'When my partner offered to be a mentor, I was proud. Then I walked in on one of his sessions.'

The day I met Ryan*, it felt like the rest of the world fell away. We connected online, starting with a single chat that quickly became daily conversations. Suddenly, we were spending every spare moment talking to each other.

Ryan wasn't the type to put on a show; he was grounded and genuine, someone who really listened. For the first time, I didn't feel like I had to act or impress. I could just be me, and he made me feel secure in a way no one else had before. A few months in, and we'd moved in together.

Looking back, maybe it was fast, but I was swept up by this feeling of trust and ease - a kind of love I hadn't known. He supported my career and I, his. So when he brought up the idea of mentoring someone who needed "a little extra support," I wanted to be as encouraging for him as he'd been for me.

When he started his mentoring, I was proud. My Ryan, giving his time to help someone in need. And while I knew no relationship was perfect, I felt confident in his loyalty… most of the time. I had moments of insecurity, especially when he casually mentioned "her" - his mentee. I couldn't help but imagine some young, impressionable woman looking up to him, and where that kind of adoration might lead, but I knew these thoughts were silly. He was doing a good thing, and I reminded myself to trust him, to let him help in the way he wanted.

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I kept those intrusive, insecure thoughts to myself, masking them with supportive smiles and telling him how proud I was. I didn't want to be "that girlfriend" - the one who couldn't handle her partner ever being around another female.

That's what made it so much worse when I came home early one afternoon and found out the truth.

We had a spontaneous, company-wide shutdown when the server went down. It was a doozy and not expected to be rectified any time soon, and it rendered most of us unable to work at all. I gleefully took the early mark and made my way home for some much-needed chill time on the lounge where I planned to continue my Vanderpump Rules rewatch. I'd gone back to season one and was loving it all over again.

But what I walked into was a far cry from chilled. As I opened the door, voices floated toward me from the kitchen. Sh*t! Wednesdays were Ryan's mentoring days. The Vanderpump crew might have to wait.

"Oh, hey, babe!" I called out, letting the door close softly behind me. The voices went quiet, then muffled whispers took their place. It felt off.

As I stepped into the kitchen, there she was - blonde, tanned, beautiful, and all too comfortable in my kitchen, as though she belonged there. She turned, and it took me a moment to recognise her: Ryan's ex, Eve*. I'd never met her in person, but I knew her face from a few nosey social media searches I'd done in the early days of our relationship.

"Oh, Claire*! Ryan's told me so much about you," she said with a sugary smile. "And he's been such a big help lately!" Her casual presence in my kitchen sent my buried insecurities rushing back. I looked to Ryan, whose face was stricken with guilt, and suddenly, everything fell into place.

"I didn't realise that Ryan's mentoring meant coffee dates with his ex in our kitchen," I seethed.

Eve didn't miss a beat. "Oh, we're just catching up," she replied breezily, shrugging as if nothing could be more normal. But her gaze held a challenge, as though daring me to react and cause a scene.

"So, how long has this 'mentorship' been going on?" I asked, crossing my arms and narrowing my gaze.

Ryan looked away, but Eve cheerily answered, "Oh, every Wednesday for a few months now. Didn't he mention it?"

I looked at her, then at Ryan, feeling a wave of anger. "Ryan," I said slowly, the fury in my voice unmistakable, "you kept a pretty big part of this from me."

Eve stood up, looking suddenly less comfortable. "I think maybe I should go," she said, her smirk finally fading.

Ryan tried to explain, stammering about how he hadn't wanted to "worry" me. But as he fumbled for excuses, I felt myself slipping further from him. I'd buried my insecurities, trusted him fully, only to have my trust repaid with deception. He'd let her into our lives, into our home, under the guise of "mentorship."

Whether or not it went beyond that, I have no idea. Didn't matter anyway, I couldn't look past the betrayal. The person I thought I knew was willing to risk our relationship for a lie. He kept speaking, but I'd stopped listening, a clarity dawning over me.

"Ryan," I said firmly, "I'm done."

I'd trusted him completely, and he'd let me down, but I wouldn't let myself down by staying. This wasn't Vanderpump's SUR, it was my life. I was never going to be the 'Brittany' to his 'Jax'.

Even in the months-long aftermath of the breakup, which included a lot of begging from Ryan, I knew I'd made the right choice. My worth wasn't up for debate, not for anyone. I was choosing me. Breaking up with Ryan was the easiest decision of my life.

*Names have been changed due to privacy.

The author of this story is known to Mamamia but remained anonymous for privacy purposes.

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