Listen, Im not here to pick a fight with you, Eleanor Whitaker narrowed her eyes, the edge of her voice as sharp as a kitchen knife. Youve forced this on yourself. Live peacefully in your flatno ones going to evict you from here. Stop tormenting my son. If I have to, I can separate you two. Where would you go with a child then? Lets try to get along, darlingBlythe?
***
Blythe Harris sat at her desk in the sleek Manchester office, eyes glued to the screen. A sudden rustle of paper announced a bouquet of fresh red roses on her keyboard. She glanced up to see Leon Carter, the new junior analyst, blushing as he shuffled forward.
This is for you, Bly, he stammered, cheeks flaming.
Thanks, but you didnt have to, she replied, her tone flat enough to keep the peace.
Leon had taken to leaving little gestures: a coffee here, a compliment there. Bly tried to brush them off, pretending not to notice his attentions. He wasnt her typeshe found him plain, more a lab coat than a lover.
During the lunch break, their colleague Marina stepped over, a grin tugging at her lips.
Bly, why are you giving Leon the cold shoulder? He seems decent.
Its not my kind of bloke, Bly muttered. Hes oddly calm.
Calm is reliable. You cant find men like that these days. And lookhe even has his own flat. Not many people his age can brag about that.
Flat, you say? Bly mused, the idea settling like dust on a shelf. Property mattered. A roof over ones head and a steady income were the foundations of any future Bly could imagine.
That evening, Bly stayed late to finish a crucial report. As she packed to leave, Leon appeared again.
Bly, may I walk you to the car? he asked.
Thanks, Leon, but Ive booked a cab.
Just to the cab, then, he insisted.
On the short walk, Leon talked about his hobbies, his work, his plans. Then, out of nowhere, he asked her out on a date. Bly hesitated, but eventually said yes, telling herself it was an opportunity to gauge him betterespecially after Marinas flat commentary.
***
Their first date unfolded in a cosy café on a rainy Oxford Street. Leon turned out to be a surprisingly engaging conversationalist.
Where do you live? Bly asked, careful not to betray her curiosity.
In my own flat, Leon said proudly. My parents helped me buy it when I graduated from uni.
Thats brilliant, Bly replied, genuine warmth lighting her eyes.
After a handful of dates, Bly began to see qualities in Leon shed previously missed. He was attentive, dependable, a good listener, and undeniably honest. Her friends and family warmed to him almost immediately.
One quiet evening, Bly pressed him about his dreams.
What do you think about, what do you hope for? she asked.
I dream of a family, children, a home thats ours, Leon answered. A place thats warm and welcoming.
A home sounds lovely, Bly said. But first we need at least a proper flat.
We already have one, Leon smiled. So we can start thinking about a house.
A year later they stood at the altar in a modest but heartfelt ceremony. They moved into Leons flat, and Bly felt a surge of gratitudeshed married a good man and finally had a roof she could call her own.
Two years after that, their son, Jamie, was born. Blys joy overflowed; Leon proved a caring, devoted father. Their life together felt seamless, and Bly never questioned her choice.
One night, as they tucked Jamie into bed, Bly whispered a thought that had lingered for months.
Leon, I think its time we think about a second child.
Another? he asked, surprised. But Jamies still so little.
I want a daughter, she confessed. Weve got the money, the flat why not sell this twobedroom place, buy something bigger, and start again?
Moneys not the problem, Leon agreed, but the flat
What about the flat? Bly pressed.
Leons face fell. Its not really mine.
Not yours? But you said your parents helped you buy it!
They helped, yes, but its still in my fathers name.
Your fathers? Bly repeated, heart pounding.
Exactly, Leon whispered, eyes downcast. They wanted a safety netso if anything went wrong, the house wouldnt be lost.
Bly felt her knees go weak. She sank onto the bed, trying to process the betrayal.
Youve been lying to me all this time? Why? she asked, tears threatening to spill.
I didnt lie, Leon pleaded. I just left out the details. My parents asked me not to sayfearful that Id marry you just for the flat. I now see you love me, not the property.
What do we do now? Bly asked, her voice trembling. How do we move forward, Leon?
We love each other, we have Jamie. My parents wont take the flat away. Well live as we have always lived.
What if they want it later? Or give it to your sister? Bly shot back, anger flashing. How can you be so calm?
Bly, I swear theyll never do that, Leon insisted. I have no idea why youd think otherwise.
Why should I trust you? she whispered. You kept this from me!
The night ended in a heated argument. Bly shut Leon out of the bedroom; he spent the night on the sofa, the silence heavy as fog.
***
Three days passed with no words. Leon went to work; Bly cooked his meals, ironed his shirts, all in a mute routine. He tried repeatedly to draw her into conversation, but Bly turned him away, ignoring his presence. When he approached Jamie, Bly snatched the boy and fled to another room, refusing him any contact.
Blys mind kept circling the idea of selling their twobedroom flat, buying a threebedroom house, maybe even a cottage on the outskirts of London, once Leon finally secured the title. But Leon returned home emptyhandedno good news about the flat.
Unable to speak directly to Eleanor about the property, Blys motherinlaw, Eleanor, arrived unannounced while Leon was at work.
Whats happening here? Eleanor asked, eyes narrowing. Your son seems troubled, always restless. Tell me, Bly, why are you eyeing a property that isnt yours? You live here peacefully; we have no intention of throwing you, him, or our grandson out. Whats wrong? Why are you pestering my son about this?
Bly clamped her fists, forcing a calm tone.
Nothing, Mrs. Whitaker, really. Just a misunderstanding with Leon. He keeps telling me the flat belongs to him, but its actually my husbands property. Im worried about our future. If something happens, we cant do anything with that flat. I want a second child, but a twobedroom flat is cramped. Weve saved some money, yet its not enough for a threebedroom. Selling the flat could make it possible, but I dont want to beg you for permission. Were a family; we should decide where we live.
Eleanor smiled thinly. Thats why I protected my son. You think Im naïve? I see right through you, dear. You think youve snagged my modest programmer? Dont try to convince me you married Leon out of deep loveI wont believe it. The flat stays in my husbands name, no matter what. You wont be able to sell it, take the proceeds, and then file for divorce to split the assets. If you want a bigger place, save, invest, and contribute to the family budget. Then youll have a say.
She leaned in, voice low. You came here ready to claim everything, fighting for rights you dont own. I dont want to argue with you. Live quietly. I promise no one will throw you out. But if you start causing a ruckus, Ill make my son I have leverage. Think about where youll be without a home and a child in your arms.
Eleanor turned and left. Bly exhaled a weary sigh and headed to the kitchen to make dinner, resigned to the fact that her husband earned a decent salary, and the flat wouldnt move. Well save for a bigger place ourselves, she muttered, and maybe push Leon to work harder. Thats the only way. Bly set the table with quiet precision, the clink of cutlery masking the tremor in her hands. She stirred the soup without tasting it, her mind replaying every word Eleanor had said. That night, she didnt turn away when Leon crept into bed. He didnt touch her, just lay beside her in the dark, breathing softly.
Jamie starts nursery next month, she said finally, her voice low. We should look into savings plans. Education, housingproper ones.
Leon turned his head toward her. Youre not angry anymore?
Im tired, she said. But Im not giving up. Well do this our way. Slowly. Together.
He reached for her hand. She let him take it, fingers interlacing, the weight of unspoken promises hanging between them. Outside, rain began to fall, gentle and steady against the windowpane.
