This story is about a man who learns that the childhood friend who once stole his happiness is now dying, and how some betrayals carve wounds so deep that even death cannot persuade him to offer forgiveness.
I found out recently that my ex-best friend, “Hafiz,” has terminal cancer. Maybe a year left. I felt nothing. We grew up together from the time we could barely walk. Fifteen years ago, the friendship died – long before his diagnosis.
Betrayed by My Love
I was in my late twenties, engaged to a woman I thought I’d grow old with. “Putri Aisha.” She was supposed to walk down the aisle towards me. Hafiz was supposed to stand next to me as my best man. Instead, I learned they had been sleeping together for two years behind my back.
Then I learned her plan was to marry me, drain me, divorce me, and leave with Hafiz and my money. My family home? Part of the prize.
Betrayed by My Best Friend
When I confronted Hafiz, he told me he could not help falling for her. He blamed the divorce plan on her. As if blaming her made his betrayal smaller. He tried to apologise. I broke his nose and ended the engagement. The tainted ring stayed with Putri. She could do whatever she wanted with it.
Their Wedding Invitation
Hafiz and I had been inseparable as kids. We grew up two doors apart. Our families shared school holidays. We shared our toys, went to the same SRK and SMK. We lived two houses apart until university. The betrayal cut me to the core and tainted childhood memories because he was part of them.
They tried reaching out after everything blew up. I ignored them. Then they sent me an invitation to their wedding. Did they really think it was a peace offering? I still do not know what fantasy they were living in.
I think Putri wanted to rub salt in my wounds. Cooler heads than mine prevailed: My therapist convinced me not to RSVP.
I let my lawyer respond, stating that any contact would lead to a lawsuit.
Their Rocky Marriage
Through mutual friends, I heard that their marriage was rocky almost from the start. Money problems, infidelity on both sides. Hafiz was drinking a lot, and became a stress induced chain smoker. Putri got stoned to cope with him. I laughed long and loud at their misfortunes: Karma was doing its job without me. They deserve each other.
Hafiz’s Mother Reached Out
Just before Halloween 2025, his mother called and asked if we could meet. We did, at a neutral coffee shop. She was direct: No ill will and understanding from her. She swore that what he did was despicable and they had never given their blessing.
Then she told me that Hafiz has been diagnosed with terminal cancer and he had months left. He wanted to “talk and apologize.” I didn’t want to hurt her, because whatever happened between Hafiz and me, she’s going to lose her son.
I told her I would think about it. She thanked me and left.
His Guilt is His Problem
I thought for a moment and decided no. Because, honestly I don’t care. I spent years in therapy because of what they did. I still see my therapist. I take less medication now. I focus on coping skills.
I’ve not healed much. I keep almost everyone at arms length. I have trust issues. I’m borderline anti-social. I’ve not been on a date in fifteen years. I remember how they planned to break me. It’s a boundary I refuse to cross. The only healing I can get is when both are dead and buried.
I function but forgiveness is still a long way off.
I don’t hate, nor forgive.
People like to preach about forgiveness and “making things right” at the end of life. The societal expectation is that the living will be the better person, forgive and forget, let go of hate and anger, and give the dying a clean exit, with forgiveness and closure.
That’s just noise where these two are concerned, because I don’t hate Putri or Hafiz anymore. Hate means I still feel something for them. What they did, and planned to do to me, had an impact, left a mark. But as people, they are strangers. And Hafiz’s death is the death of a stranger. So, I don’t see why I should give a stranger a clear conscience to sleep easier before he goes.
Hafiz sent his mother instead of coming himself. That tells me everything I need to know about the dying coward who cannot face up to what he did. I do not need his apology. I do not want it. Let him sit and suffer with what he did.
I hope that my former bride is hurting as her husband suffers, and will continue to hurt. Maybe both of them can empathize with my pain.
The thought of their suffering keeps me cozy on cold air-conditioned nights.
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