One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband --- - Chapter 174: Chapter 174

It started with an eye-roll.
Subtle. Quiet. But sharp enough to cut.
Amara had been best friends with Naomi since sixth grade. They'd built each other up through heartbreaks, crushes, school plays, and group projects. They had matching bracelets and a shared journal.
But everything changed when Naomi was cast as the lead in the spring musical—a role Amara had wanted more than anything.
Naomi didn’t gloat. She celebrated quietly. She even apologized.
And that, somehow, made it worse.
Amara stopped answering texts.
She skipped lunch with Naomi three times in one week.
She told herself she was just busy.
But when Naomi confronted her—soft-voiced, trembling—Amara said what she didn’t mean.
“You only got the role because your mom’s on the board.”
Naomi gasped.
The look on her face broke something between them.
“You don’t mean that,” Naomi whispered.
“I do,” Amara lied.
She cried that night.
Not just because she hurt someone she loved—but because she didn’t know how to undo it.
The next day, Naomi sat three rows away in history class and didn’t look at her once.
The silence hurt more than the confrontation.
Arielle found Amara curled in the window seat that evening, her journal unopened on her lap.
“You okay?” Arielle asked.
Amara shrugged.
“I messed up,” she whispered.
Arielle didn’t ask what happened. She sat beside her and waited.
Finally, Amara said, “I was jealous. And I made her feel small because I couldn’t feel proud of her.”
Arielle nodded. “That kind of honesty is rare. Even with ourselves.”
Amara bit her lip. “I think I lost her.”
“I want to tell you something,” Arielle said. “Something I’ve never told any of you.”
She folded her hands in her lap like she was holding something fragile.
“There was a girl I went to high school with—Jenna. We were inseparable. Until she got into the university I wanted and I didn’t.”
Amara looked up, surprised.
“I stopped talking to her. One day, I just... ghosted. And when she came looking for me, I acted like she’d betrayed me just for being chosen.”
“Did you ever make up?”
Arielle’s eyes filled with old pain.
“No. We graduated. Drifted. And years later, I saw on Facebook that she’d passed away. I never said sorry.”
Amara’s throat tightened.
“I don’t want that to happen to us.”
“Then don’t let it.”
The next day, Amara stood at Naomi’s locker.
Naomi glanced up, cautious.
“I was awful,” Amara said, voice trembling. “I was jealous, and I didn’t know how to say it without sounding petty. But I never stopped being proud of you. I just... stopped showing it.”
Naomi stared at her a long moment.
And then, quietly: “You hurt me.”
“I know.”
“And I’m still mad.”
“I can wait,” Amara said. “Just... don’t walk away forever.”
The bridge didn’t mend overnight.
There were awkward silences, sidelong glances, half-smiles that faded too quickly.
But slowly, it rebuilt.
Not the same.
Something stronger.
Because Amara had learned: jealousy can burn fast—but so can apology.
And sometimes, when you think the bridge is gone forever...
All it takes is one brave step back toward it.
One truth spoken without armor.
And a friend willing to meet you halfway.