The scene unfolded like a midsummer fog over a quiet culdesac in a suburb of Manchester. Listen, I dont want us to quarrel, Mrs. Whitaker said, squinting as if the light were a blade. Youre the one whos pushing this. Live peacefully in the flat; no one here will throw you out. And stop tyrannising my son. I could, if I needed to, split you two apart. Where would you go with the child then? Lets try to live together, eh, Sophie?
***
Sophie sat at her desk, eyes glued to the screen. Out of nowhere a bouquet of fresh roses appeared on the tabletop. She lifted her gaze and saw Leonard, the new analyst in her department, blushing shyly.
This is for you, Sophie, Leonard murmured, cheeks pink.
Thank you, but it wasnt necessary, she replied, keeping her tone even.
Leonard had started a ritual of little attentions: a coffee here, a compliment there. Sophie brushed them off, pretending not to see his advances. He was nothing more than a bookish fellow, unremarkable.
During a lunch break, her colleague Marina drifted over.
Sophie, why are you turning away Leonard? He seems decent enough.
Its not my type, Marina. Hes too calm.
But reliable. You dont find that many steady lads these days. And, by the way, he owns his own flat. Not many of his age can brag about that.
A flat, you say? Sophie mused.
Housing mattered to her. If a man had a roof over his head and a steady income, those were solid points on the marriage ledger.
That evening Sophie stayed late to finish a crucial report. As she gathered her things, Leonard appeared.
Sophie, may I walk you to your taxi? he offered.
Thanks, Leonard, but Ive already booked one.
Just to the curb, then, he persisted.
On the way, he chatted about his hobbies, his work, his future plans. Then, without warning, he invited her out on a date. She hesitated, then agreed, thinking it would be a chance to scrutinise him more closelyespecially after Marinas flat comment.
***
The first date was in a cosy café. Leonard turned out to be a pleasant conversationalist, surprisingly engaging.
So where do you live? Sophie asked, masking her curiosity.
In my own flat, he said proudly. My parents helped me buy it when I finished university.
Lovely! Sophie replied sincerely.
After a series of meetings, Sophie began to notice qualities shed missed before: attentiveness, reliability, a listening ear, honesty. Her parents and friends took a liking to him too.
One afternoon she asked, Leonard, what do you dream about?
I dream of a family, children, he said. A warm home of our own.
A house sounds wonderful, but we need at least a flat first, Sophie noted.
Dont worry, we already have the flat, he grinned. We can start thinking about a house
A year later they were married in a modest yet heartfelt ceremony. They moved into Leonards flat. Sophies happiness swelledshe had married a good man and secured a roof over their heads.
Two years on, a son was born. Sophie was overjoyed. Leonard proved a caring, loving father. They lived in harmony, and Sophie never once rued her choice.
One night, while tucking their boy into bed, Sophie whispered about a second childshe had always imagined twins.
Leonard, I think its time for a second baby, she said lazily.
Another one? he asked, surprised. Why? Our sons still little.
I want a daughter, she confessed. We have the money, the flat why not sell this place, buy a bigger one
Moneys fine, Leonard agreed, but the flat
What about the flat? Sophie asked, puzzled.
Its not entirely mine, he said, eyes dropping. My parents put it in my fathers name.
Your fathers name? Sophie repeated.
Yes, Leonard whispered. They wanted a safety net, in case of a divorce
Sophies legs felt weak. She sank onto the bed, trying to digest the revelation.
Youve been lying to me all this time? Why? she asked, tears threatening.
I didnt lie, I just omitted. My parents asked me not to mention itthey feared youd marry me for the flat. I now know you love me, not the property.
What now? she pressed, eyes damp.
We love each other, we have our son. My parents wont take the flat away. Well live as we have.
What if they need it? Or give it to your sister? Sophie snapped. How can you stay so calm?
Youre overreacting, Leonard protested. Theyd never do that.
How do you know?
Sophie, please calm down, he tried to hug her. Everything will be alright.
No, Leonard, nothing will be alright. You kept this from me. You deceived me!
The evening ended in a bitter clash. Sophie barred Leonard from the bedroom; he spent the night on the sofa.
***
Three days passed in tense silence. Leonard went to work, Sophie prepared his meals, ironed his shirtseach action wordless. Leonard kept trying to draw her into conversation, but Sophie ignored him, pretending he didnt exist. She even kept him away from their son; whenever Leonard approached, she snatched the boy and fled to another room. She clung to the hope that Leonard would return with news that the flat had finally been transferred to his name, so she could sell their twobedroom flat, buy a threebedroom house, or even a cottage on the edge of town.
But Leonard brought no joyous tidings. Sophie never confronted her motherinlaw directly about the property; instead, Mrs. Whitaker, having heard the commotion, arrived unannounced when Leonard was out.
Whats happening here? Mrs. Whitaker asked. Your son seems troubled, somethings nagging at him. Tell me, Sophie, whats the matter?
Nothing, Mrs. Whitaker, everythings fine, Sophie replied, trying to stay composed. I dont know why Leonard looks so glum.
Youre lying, the matriarch said, leaning in. Why are you eyeing a flat that isnt yours? Youre living here peacefully; we wont evict you, Leonard, nor our grandson. Whats wrong with you? Why are you pestering my son about this?
Sophie clenched her fists, then answered as calmly as she could.
No one is trying to seize your flat, Mrs. Whitaker. Leonard and I simply have a misunderstanding. He keeps telling me the flat belongs to him, but actually its owned by your husband. Im worried about our future. If something goes wrong, we cant do anything with the flat. I want a second child, and a twobedroom flat is cramped. A threebedroom would be perfect. Weve saved some money, but not enough for a bigger place. Selling this flat could give us the funds. I dont like the idea of pleading with you for permission to sell. Were a family, we have a child, so we should decide where we live.
Mrs. Whitaker smiled thinly. I raised my son to protect him, and you think Im naïve? You think Id fall for a simple programmers charms? Dont tell me you married Leonard out of grand love. Ill never believe that. This flat will not be sold, no matter what. It will stay in my husbands name. What are you hoping for? To sell it, buy a bigger one, then file for divorce and split the assets? That wont happen. Save, invest, and maybe youll have a say in the money. As for you, you came here ready to fight for rights. I dont want to argue with you. Live peacefully; I promise no one will throw you out. If you start causing trouble, Ill make my son divorce you. Trust me, I have leverage.
With that, Mrs. Whitaker turned and left. Sophie exhaled heavily and went to prepare dinner, resigned to the situation. Her husband earned a decent wage, and the flat, though unsellable, would remain theirs. Fine, she thought, well save for a bigger house ourselves. Leonard will have to push a little harder. She set the table quietly, the clink of cutlery sharp in the stillness. Leonard came home late, shoulders slumped, but she met him with a calm she didnt feel. Dinners ready, she said, and he nodded, surprised shed spoken at all. They ate in silence, the boy babbling between them, unaware. Later, as Leonard washed the dishes, she stood in the doorway and watched himhis careful hands, his tired eyes. Well find another way, she said softly. He turned, hopeful. She didnt smile, but she didnt look away. They would stay, for now, in the flat that wasnt theirs, building a life within its borrowed walls.
