'My best friend and I were trying for babies at the same time. Then she did something unforgivable.'

I always thought my friendship with Alison was like a refuge. It was a bond that lifted me up and added a kind of richness to my life. At least, that's what I thought when I met her through some of my high school friends.

We weren't exactly an obvious match as I'm more reserved and she was all sparkle and show, drawing attention wherever she goes. But we clicked, and I felt that we really cared about each other.

And yet, over time, I started to notice the cracks. Our friendship started to feel like we were locked in an unspoken competition. It started small. In our mid-twenties, when I dated a wealthy man working in finance, Alison suddenly decided she had to date someone in the same industry.

She made it a mission, like finding her own version of him would somehow one-up me. Then there was the time I poured my heart into starting a T-shirt brand. I was so proud of it, and before I knew it, she was suddenly obsessed with launching her own side hustle in the fashion business. It always felt like she was chasing what I had, not because she wanted it, but because she couldn't bear the thought of me having something she didn't.

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Still, I stuck by her. I kept the friendship going because I felt that we shared too much history to let these things ruin our relationship. We celebrated birthdays together, leaned on each other during breakups, and brainstormed our next big money-making ideas. But everything came to a head last year when she crossed a line I couldn't get over.

I'd married the love of my life, Daniel, and around the same time Alison had moved in with her partner. So we were both in serious relationships and life looked pretty good. From the moment I met Daniel and realised he was "the one" I started to think about being a mother. And I knew if I had a girl, I'd call her Odette.

It wasn't just a name; it was meaningful as it was my grandmother's middle name. It was a name I'd always loved, well before I ever considered becoming a mother. Alison knew this. I remember telling her over coffee one day that if I ever had a girl, she'd be called Odette. I remember Alison commented that it was a beautiful name, but we didn't really discuss it further.

Then Alison fell pregnant. I was thrilled for her at first, even though it was bittersweet to see her get there before me. I'd been trying to fall pregnant with no luck. Fast forward to the birth — I received a group text from Alison's partner welcoming their baby girl: Odette. My baby name! She'd taken it - name I'd told her about, dreamed about, and attached to this precious idea of my future daughter.

When I found out, I called her immediately, and while I did congratulate her, I found it hard to keep the hurt from my voice. "Why would you call her Odette? You know it's the name I'd call my own daughter?" Her response? She acted like she'd just borrowed my dress and forgotten to return it. "Well, sorry you feel that way. I just loved the name," she said, as if that excused everything.

Daniel thought I was overreacting, after all I wasn't pregnant yet. And, maybe I'd never have a girl. But deep down, I knew better. This was Alison, a woman who couldn't stand not having what I had. Only this time, it wasn't a boyfriend or a business idea, it was something so personal it felt like a slap in the face.

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The argument that followed was one of the worst we'd ever had. She accused me of being petty, and I accused her of being selfish. The truth is, it wasn't just about the name. It was about years of feeling overshadowed, like my wins could only ever be hers if she replicated them. So the baby naming was really the final straw.

After that fight, we stopped speaking. I didn't reach out, and neither did she. When my baby girl was born the following year, there was no question in my mind, I still named her Odette. People asked if it felt strange, knowing Alison's daughter shared the same name. It didn't. My daughter was the Odette I'd always imagined, and no one could take that away from me.

Do I miss Alison? Sometimes. We were friends for a very long time. There were moments of laughter and comfort that I still value. But I've come to realise that some friendships aren't meant to last.

Alison and I may never speak again, and that's okay. My life is fuller now, not just because of my beautiful daughter but because I've finally let go of a friendship that weighed me down. And my Odette will grow up knowing her name is special, chosen just for her.

As told to Ann DeGrey

Feature Image: Getty.