Shattered Truths

Chapter 5: A Friend's Insight

The night after his talk with Sarah, Matt sat at his kitchen table, staring at the notepad where he had scribbled fragments of his unraveling life. "Aaron – café. Older man – house. Envelopes. Cash. Papers." He drew lines between them like a man trying to solve a puzzle with missing pieces. The names and shapes stared back at him like accusations.

Sarah had helped—her words still rang in his ears, urging him not to take the blame, not to let Claire's manipulations twist him. But even with that comfort, the questions only grew sharper.

He needed another perspective.

For years, whenever Matt felt like the ground was falling away, he had turned to Luke. Luke was blunt, steady, a friend who had never sugarcoated the truth. At least, Matt thought so. And though they hadn't spoken much since the breakup, there was a part of him that still believed Luke might help him make sense of what felt senseless.

He texted him late that afternoon.

Need to talk. Pub tonight?

The reply came quickly.

Always. 8 p.m.

The pub smelled of old wood and fried food, familiar and grounding. Matt had spent countless nights here with Luke, their conversations spilling long into the night, laughter or silence equally comfortable. But tonight the air felt heavier, the weight of betrayal hanging over him even as the warm glow of lamps lit the room.

Luke was already there, tucked into their usual back booth. A pint of beer sat in front of him, condensation sliding down the glass. When he spotted Matt, his face softened into a mixture of concern and something Matt couldn't quite place—hesitation, maybe.

"You look like hell," Luke said as Matt slid into the booth. His voice was warm, but his eyes flickered briefly before settling. He reached out, clasping Matt's shoulder. "I was hoping you'd call."

Matt let out a dry chuckle, raising the pint the waitress had just set down. "Yeah, well, I finally realized I can't do this alone."

Luke nodded slowly, leaning back against the booth. "Glad you figured that out. Sarah's good for you, but sometimes... you need a friend who's not family."

"Yeah." Matt took a long sip, the bitterness grounding him. "That's exactly why I'm here. I need the truth, Luke. If you saw something—anything—about Claire, about us, that I missed... I need to hear it now. No more holding back."

Luke's jaw tightened. He swirled the beer in his glass, his silence stretching until Matt felt it pressing against his chest. Finally, Luke sighed.

"Look, man, I always had... reservations. But I didn't want to be the guy throwing shadows over your happiness."

"Reservations?" Matt pressed.

"You remember Nick's party last year?" Luke asked, his gaze fixed on the table. "Claire kept sneaking off, phone buzzing every fifteen minutes. Every time you asked, she brushed it off—'work emergency,' right?"

Matt frowned, the memory sharp. He remembered the unease but had buried it. "Yeah. I told myself it was nothing."

"Exactly." Luke gave him a pointed look. "You always wanted to believe her. And hey, I get it. She was... she had a way of making you feel like she was all in. But there were cracks, man. Cracks you didn't want to see."

Matt's stomach churned. "Why didn't you say something then?"

Luke hesitated, his hand tightening around his glass. "Because you were happy. And I... didn't want to come across as jealous or meddling. I figured maybe I was reading too much into it."