I found out my best friend of nineteen years told my husband about my abortion, and I don't know who I'm more angry at, and I've been sitting with that for two weeks.

Context: it was before I met him. I was twenty-three. I have never told him, not because I'm ashamed of it but because it is simply mine and I made a decision a long time ago that it was going to stay mine.

She told him in August. Apparently it came up because he was talking about wanting a third and she said something like "after everything she's been through," and he asked what that meant, and she told him. She says she thought he knew. I believe that she thought that.

I also know her well enough to know she's wanted me to tell him for years and that there was a version of her that was relieved to be the one to finally handle it.

He has been extraordinary about it. He waited three days and then asked me gently and told me it changed nothing and he meant it. He has not brought it up again.

So nothing bad happened, technically. And I am coming apart.

Because what she took wasn't a secret. It was the fact that it was mine to give him, on a day I chose, in words I chose. That was the only version of that conversation I was ever going to get and she spent it.

And the thing I can't get past: she is the person I would call if something happened to him. Nineteen years. She was in the room when my mother died. There is no replacing her and there is no going back to before, and everyone keeps telling me to decide whether to forgive her like it's a switch.

How do you stay friends with someone who did one unforgivable thing and nine hundred unrepayable ones?