When Layla called me, panicked about the interview, I didn’t hesitate.

“It’s your dream job,” she had said, voice shaky. “I don’t even think I have a shot, but they called me for an interview, and I’m freaking out.”

It was my dream job. The position I had been working toward for years. But I pushed that aside and helped her. Because that’s what best friends do.

For months, I coached her—mock interviews, industry insights, even sharing my own study notes. She leaned on me completely, and I wanted to believe that if I couldn’t get the job, at least it would go to someone I cared about.

Then the rejection email landed in my inbox.

I was devastated but tried to stay positive. I told myself Layla probably didn’t get it either. That we’d commiserate over drinks and laugh about how brutal the hiring process was.

Then I opened Instagram.

“Can’t believe I got the job! Hard work pays off! #DreamJob #Blessed”

My stomach turned.

I stared at the post, the comments flooding in with congratulations. Layla hadn’t called. Hadn’t texted. Hadn’t even hinted that she got the job. I had to find out this way?

I swallowed hard and texted her.

“Congrats. When were you going to tell me?”

Read. No response.

An hour later, my phone finally buzzed.

Layla: Hey! Sorry, it’s been crazy. I was going to call. I just didn’t know how to tell you. I hope you’re not mad?

I stared at the message, my hands shaking. Didn’t know how to tell me? Was she serious? After everything I had done for her?

I took a deep breath, trying to push down the anger building in my chest. I typed out a response, deleted it. Typed another. Deleted that too.

Finally, I settled on something neutral.

Me: I’m happy for you. Just wish I didn’t have to find out through Instagram.

She read it immediately. No reply.

That was the moment it hit me—Layla had no intention of making this right.

Days passed. Then weeks.

Layla never reached out again. No apology. No attempt to make things right. It was like I had been erased from her life the moment she got what she wanted.

And that hurt more than losing the job itself.

I kept telling myself to move on. That people change. That maybe she wasn’t the friend I thought she was. But it still stung—because I had given so much of myself to help her succeed.

And what did I get in return?

Silence.

One afternoon, still licking my wounds, I got a LinkedIn notification. A recruiter from another company—one even bigger than the one Layla got hired at—had sent me a message.

“We came across your work and would love to chat. Are you open to opportunities?”

I blinked at the screen. Was this a joke?

I responded immediately. The next day, I was on a call with them. Turns out, one of the hiring managers had seen my name pop up several times in industry discussions. Apparently, I had built a solid reputation without even realizing it—because of the study materials and mock interview prep I had shared with Layla.

She had used my notes. My insights. And in doing so, had unknowingly boosted my credibility in the industry.

The irony wasn’t lost on me.

I went through their interview process. Unlike the last company, this one felt right. The culture, the people, the vision—it aligned with everything I wanted.

A few weeks later, I got the call.

I got the job.

And not just any job—a better one.

I didn’t hear much about Layla for a while. But one evening, scrolling through LinkedIn, I saw something interesting.

Layla had posted again.

But this time, it wasn’t a celebratory post.

“Sometimes things don’t work out the way you hoped. On to the next chapter.”

I clicked her profile.

Her dream job had lasted a grand total of six months.

She had been let go.

A part of me wanted to feel sorry for her. But deep down, I knew—it wasn’t just bad luck.

Layla had taken shortcuts. She had used my knowledge, my prep, my insights—but none of the actual work had been hers.

When it came time to prove herself on the job, she couldn’t.

Karma had done its job.

Looking back, I don’t regret helping Layla.

Because, in the end, I still got where I wanted to be—without stepping on anyone to do it.

If anything, I learned one of the most valuable lessons of my life:

You can’t cheat your way to success. You might get ahead for a little while, but if you haven’t truly put in the work, it’ll catch up with you.

And most importantly?

The right opportunities will find you.

If something is truly meant for you, no one can take it away.

So if you’ve ever felt betrayed, used, or overlooked—just wait.

Your moment is coming.

And when it does, it’ll be better than you ever imagined.

If this story resonated with you, share it. Someone out there might need the reminder.