I Worked at the Same Company for Seven Years: From Starting as an Assistant to Becoming the Coordinator of the Administrative Department

I’d worked at the same company for seven yearsyes, seven.
I started at the very bottom as an assistant and clawed my way up to Administrative Coordinator, which sounds much fancier than it pays.
My best friend joined two years after meon my recommendation, of course.
I taught her the ropes, explained the office jargon, handed over my network of contacts, and, not to brag, I even covered for some of her classic early-bird errors so she wouldnt get booted out before shed even learnt where the kettle was.
Wed lunch together, wed grab drinks on Fridays, and I trusted her more than I trusted my own taste in shoes.
Six months ago, a managerial position was announced.
My boss hinted I was a top contender.
So, naturally, I turned into one of those people who comes in before the cleaners and leaves closer to sunrise than sunset.
I hoarded extra tasks like Poundland bargains and made myself indispensable.
My friend kept reassuring me: That jobs yours, youve earned it. I told her everythingmy tactics for the all-important in-house interview, even my choice of power blouse.
The day of the interview rolled round, and who should pop up but my dear friend, glammed up and waiting outside the big bosss office.
This was news to me.
She just shrugged and said, I thought Id have a go. I tried not to let my mind spiral into pettiness.
A week later, the results were announcedshed landed the managerial role.
I sat at my desk, staring blankly at my computer, trying not to slam my head on the keyboard.
Things quickly got odd.
Our new bossonce my lunch buddy, now my managerstarted tweaking (read: ruining) the processes Id spent years perfecting.
She took me off key projects, demanded pointless reports, and generally seemed intent on making my life as tedious as a two-hour budget meeting.
A colleague quietly told me shed said I lacked leadership skills, and, just for fun, had pitched my ideas as her own in front of the higher-ups.
One day, in a moment of caffeine-fuelled bravery at the café, I confronted her: Why did you say those things about me? She replied, Its work, not friendship.
I had to secure my spot. I reminded her of all the help Id given her.
She simply said, That was your choice, not mine.
Now the office feels like the inside of a fridge.
She speaks to me like Im part of the furniture, corrects me in front of everyone, and delegates pointless busywork my way.
I go home in tears most nights, anxiety my trusty companion, often fantasising about storming out in an explosive scenethough, lets be honest, I usually just eat biscuits and mope.
So here I am, stuck at a crossroad: do I keep my head down and endure, so Im not jobless, or do I quit and start fresh somewhere else?
What would you dowould you stick it out or walk away?