While youre still living with mum, my sisters coming over, Stephen said, slamming my suitcase shut.
You cant be serious! Its Tuesday, Emilys got school!
Mum will pick her up after lessons, Ive already arranged it.
Arranged? Without me? Stephen, whats happening?
I was standing in the bedroom, watching Stephen methodically stuff my things into the battered old travel case. He pulled sweaters, shirts, jeans from the wardrobe, never looking at me. His movements were precise, rehearsed, like hed done this a hundred times.
Nothings happening, he said calmly. My sister Irene is staying for a week, she needs her own room. You know she cant stand any noise, and weve got Emily running around all day with her music.
What about Emily? Irene could stay in a hotel! Or crash on the couch!
Stephen finally met my gaze. There was a new coldness there Id never seen before.
On the couch? My sister in a hotel? Natalie, are you hearing yourself? This is my house, by the way.
Our house, I whispered.
My house, he cut in. Bought with my money. I decide who lives here.
My throat tightened. Twentythree years of marriage. Twentythree years of keeping this place, raising our daughter, cooking, cleaning, waiting for him to come home. And now hes packing my things as if Im just a tenant.
How long? I asked, voice trembling. How long do I have to stay with mum?
A week, maybe two. Irene hasnt decided yet. It depends on how things go.
What things? Shes on holiday!
He slammed the suitcase shut, buckling the straps.
Not your business. Pack up, Ill drive you out in an hour.
He left the room, leaving me alone in the bedroom. I sank onto the edge of the bed, staring at that old, scuffed case the same one wed taken on our honeymoon. Back then it was new and shiny, stuffed with my dresses and his shirts. Now it was being used to kick me out of my own home.
Mum met me at the door with a sour expression.
Well, look who finally showed up.
Mum, please, I tried to step inside, dragging the suitcase.
How can I not? I told you what would happen when you married him, when you bought the house in his name. You shouldve listened!
Margaret Clarke, at seventytwo, ran her life by strict rules and even stricter judgments. Shed kept her mind sharp and her character firm, which sometimes seemed too much for me.
Mum, Ill just stay the night. It wont be long.
Oh, right, just a night. Ive heard that one before. First a week, then a month, then suddenly youre filing for divorce. Your sisters coming, you know. The same one who vanished five years ago?
I didnt answer. I slipped into the old bedroom that now doubled as Mums wardrobe and a stack of magazines. The single narrow bed from my teenage years was still there.
Have a cuppa, you look pale, Mum softened a bit. You havent even had breakfast?
Im not hungry.
Ten minutes later I was sitting at the kitchen table with a strong cup of tea and a slice of toast. Mum settled opposite, studying me.
Somethings up, she said. He wouldnt just kick you out.
He didnt kick me out, he just asked to stay with you.
Natalie, Im seventytwo, but Im not losing my mind. Men dont throw wives out of the house for no reason. Either theres someone else or money trouble.
He doesnt have someone else.
How do you know? You sit at home all day. Hes at work from dawn till dusk. Did you check his phone?
Mum!
What, you naïve thing. Always have been, always will be.
I finished my tea and stood up.
I need to pick up Emily. Shes out at three.
Stephen promised to collect her.
Ill get her myself.
Emily, fifteen, was my mirror at that age chestnut hair, grey eyes, that stubborn set to her mouth. Shed come out of school laughing with her friends, but when she saw me, her face fell.
Mum? Wheres dad? He was supposed to pick me up.
Ill handle it, I said, hugging her shoulders. Lets go for a walk and talk.
We strolled through the park, leaves turning orange, and I told her about staying with Grandma, about Irenes visit, about it being only temporary.
He threw you out, Emily said flatly.
No, its just
Mum, Im fifteen, not five. I get it. He kicked you out, and me too.
Emily, dont say that.
She turned to face me.
Should I be honest? Ive noticed him acting weird for a month. Hiding his phone, disappearing at night. You never see it?
From where
Im not blind or deaf. Two days ago he spent an hour in the bathroom talking to someone, thinking we were asleep.
I stopped dead in my tracks.
What was he talking about?
I didnt catch the words, just the tone. He was laughing. When was the last time you heard dad laugh like that?
I was silent. I really couldnt remember.
In Mums flat we ran into Margaret, whod already made two beds and started dinner.
I love beetroot soup, mashed potatoes with meatballs, she announced cheerily. After we eat, Ill put on a good lovestory film.
Grandma, Id rather stay in my room, Emily dropped her backpack. I have homework.
Homework on a day off? You should be out enjoying the sun!
Emily slipped away to a farther room, leaving Mum and me alone.
Shes sharp, Margaret whispered. You cant hide anything from her.
We ate in silence. The soup was thick and hearty, just like Mums, the potatoes fluffy, the meatballs juicy. I forced myself to swallow.
Call him, Mum said suddenly. Ask how hes doing, mention the sister. Let him know you havent given up.
I dont want to call.
You have to. You cant let a man run unchecked.
I didnt call that night or the next. I tried to keep busy, help Mum, pick Emily up from school. Life felt stuck, hanging in limbo.
On the third day my friend Olivia rang.
Nat, where have you vanished to? Ive called you a hundred times!
Sorry, my phone was on silent.
Listen, is it true Stephens seeing some other woman?
I froze.
What? Where did you hear that?
Svetlana saw them at the new restaurant on Garden Avenue. They were sitting together, he was kissing her hand. I thought it was his sister, but she said she was a young lady, about thirty.
Which restaurant?
The one on the high street, the pricey one we never go to.
I hung up, hands shaking. It all clicked. Mum was right, Emily was right. He had someone else.
Why are you so pale? Margaret asked, entering the kitchen.
Mum, can I go back home? I need to collect something.
Mum gave me a long, searching look.
Go. Just dont cause a scene. Find out whats really going on first.
I boarded a bus, trying to calm my nerves. Maybe it was a mistake, maybe Olivia mixed things up. Deep down I knew the truth.
Outside the flat a sleek white foreign car waited. I went up to my flat, fumbled with the keys, my hand trembling as I slid them into the lock.
The flat smelled of expensive perfume, something Id never worn. Laughter drifted from the living room, a womans.
I slipped off my shoes and padded down the hallway. The livingroom door was ajar.
On the sofa sat a young woman, blonde hair, dressed in a white lab coat, barefoot. Glasses of wine and a plate of fruit lay on the coffee table.
Stephen was beside her, stroking her arm, whispering.
You promised she wouldnt be back for a week, a soft voice said.
Shes at your mums, dont worry.
What about our daughter?
Shes there too. No need to stress, love. Its just us.
I stood frozen, legs refusing to move. The word traitor hammered in my head.
When will you tell her? the woman asked.
Soon. First I need to sort the paperwork on the house so she cant claim anything.
Youre clever, she kissed him on the cheek.
I turned and fled toward the exit. I had to get out before he saw me. The keys clinked loudly as I slipped on my shoes. Footsteps echoed from the living room.
Natalie? Stephens voice sounded surprised.
I didnt look back. I bolted out the front door, sprinting down the stairs, ignoring his shouts. I burst onto the street, gasping for breath, tears blurring my vision. Passersby gave me curious glances, but I didnt care.
I didnt get home until nightfall. Mum met me at the door, worry written all over her face.
What happened?
I slipped into the flat, stripped off my coat and collapsed onto the bed. Emily peeked in, but Mum waved her away.
An hour later the door burst open. Stephen stood there, his face tight.
Natalie, we need to talk, he said, trying to sound calm.
Leave, I snapped.
Its not what you think.
Really? I sat up, staring him in the eyes. Explain yourself.
I Ive got a helper, Irene, from work. Shes helping with paperwork.
In a white coat? Barefoot? With wine?
He fell silent.
I heard everything, I pressed on. The papers, the plan to keep me from anything. Do you think Im a fool?
Natalie he started.
Twentythree years, Stephen. Twentythree years of being your wife, raising your child, running this house. And you treat me like a stranger you can push out?
He swallowed, then stood up, pacing.
I met Rita six months ago. She works in the office next door. We got together. It wasnt planned.
Just happened, I repeated. Twentythree years dont just slip away like that.
You never asked about my work, never cared about my day. You just came home, ate, went to bed.
Exactly. I never asked. Rita listens, she understands.
Shes young and pretty, thats all that matters, Margaret interjected from the doorway, her voice sharp. Youre just a dog, Stephen.
Thats none of your business, Margaret!
It is! Shes my daughter!
And my wife! I have the right to decide who lives with me!
I bought the house with my money, Stephen snapped. Its mine.
Its ours, I said calmly. Married property.
Prove it. You got the cash for a solicitor? Time to go to court?
I had no money. I hadnt worked in ten years, spent my life on the house and Emily.
Thats it, Stephen said, heading for the door. Im done.
He slammed it shut. I sat there, stunned, while Margaret came over and put her hands on my shoulders.
Dont cry, love. Hes not worth it.
The days that followed felt like a strange limbo. I still collected Emily from school, helped Mum with meals, tried to keep my mind occupied.
Olivia dropped by a week later, urgent.
Nat, you need a solicitor.
How will I pay?
Ill lend you what I can. You deserve half the house.
Its in his name.
It was bought while we were married, that makes it joint.
He says I cant afford a lawyer.
You have a right. A good solicitor will prove it.
I wanted to believe her, but after twentythree years with Stephen, Id learned not to argue. Hed always called the shots where we lived, how we spent, where we went on holiday.
Emily, one evening, said,
Mum, Im fed up. I want to go back home.
We cant,
Why? This is our house! Why are we stuck with that that woman and dad?
Because dad decided so.
And you? Did you agree?
I looked at my daughter, fifteen but wiser than many adults.
I dont know what to do.
Then Ill say this: we should go there and kick her out. This is our house, my and yours, and Grandmas in a way too. He just handed it to some stranger!
Mom
No, Mum! I wont stay silent! Youve put up with his shouting over undercooked soup, missed birthdays, his drunken returns at three in the morning. Youve endured it all. And this is the result!
How do you know all that?
Im not deaf, Mum. I heard you crying in the kitchen, thinking I was asleep.
I wrapped my arms around Emily, for the first time in days, really holding her close.
Im sorry, love.
No apologies. We need to act.
The next morning I did something I hadnt done in weeks I put on a decent coat, heeltopped shoes, and gave myself a little makeup. Mum gave me an approving nod.
Looking sharp. Where are you off to?
To a solicitor.
Olivia gave me the address of a small firm. The solicitor, Maria Patel, listened patiently, took notes.
Its a classic case, unfortunately, she said. He thinks owning the title gives him free reign, but the house was bought during the marriage, so its jointly owned. You also have a minor child, which works in your favour.
I have no money for court,
First consultation is free. Well file a claim, and if we win, hell cover the costs.
She sounded confident. I left her office feeling a sliver of hope.
But when I got back to Mums, Emily was in tears, saying Stephen had called, threatening to strip me of parental rights if I didnt give up the house.
He said Im an unfit mother, that hell have us split up,
Hes bluffing, Mum insisted. He wont do that.
I knew he would. Stephen had always gotten his way, no matter the price.
That night I lay awake, thinking of the house, of Emily, of the future. I realized the house wasnt worth risking my daughters wellbeing.
In the morning I called Stephen.
Im okay with you keeping the house, I said.
He was silent a beat.
Smart choice, he finally replied. Ill arrange child support for Emily.
I dont need your support. Just leave us alone.
He hung up. Mum looked at me, puzzled.
What have you done?
Chosen. Between the house and my daughter, I chose her.
Thats your right!
My right is to protect Emily, not to fight endless courts with a man who drags us through mud.
Mum sighed,
Maybe youre right. Its a shame, all those years in that house.
I was already past the pity. I started looking for work. At fortyfive, with an old qualification and a decade out of the workforce, it wasnt easy, but a retail shop in a town centre took me on as a sales assistant. The pay was modest, but it was something.
The first weeks were hard on my feet all day, finicky customers, a boss who liked everything perfect. Yet each day got a little easier, I learned, I adjusted, I found a rhythm.
Youre doing great, Mum said, beaming when I brought home my first paycheck. Im proud of you.
Emily helped around the house, did well at school, didnt whine.
Mum, you know what? she said one evening. I like it here, at Grandmas. It feels cosy, and the three of us are happy.
I hugged her. It really was.
Three months later I was promoted to senior sales assistant, my earnings rose, and I started saving for a small flat of my own.
One afternoon Stephen walked into the shop with Rita, both browsing dresses. Rita tried one on, twirling, while Stephen watched admiringly.
I approached with a professional smile.
Good afternoon, how can I help you?
Stephens face went pale when he saw me.
Natalie? You work here?
Yes, I replied calmly. And you?
Nothing, just
Rita glanced at me, perhaps expecting a broken, dishevelled woman, but I was tidy and confident.
That dress looks wonderful on you, I said to Rita. Maybe tryAs I watched them leave, I felt the quiet triumph of finally choosing my own path, and the promise of a fresh start ahead.
