I stand at the door of my own home in Manchester, clutching a key that no longer fits the new lock, feeling my heart shatter into pieces. The marriage I fought so hard to save has crumbled in an instant. But my cheating husband and his mistress have no idea whats cominga lesson theyll never forget.
James, its nearly ten, Id said the night before, my voice trembling. You promised to be home by seven.
He tossed his keys onto the side table without looking at me.
Work, Lucy. What do you want me to tell my boss? That I need to rush home to my wife? His tone dripped with irritation, as if I were an inconvenience.
I swallowed hard, staring at the table Id set for a simple birthday dinner. Two candles flickered beside the cake Id bought during my lunch break.
Yes, James. Thats exactly what you couldve done. Just once, I said, crossing my arms to keep my tears at bay. Its my birthday.
Finally, he glanced at the table. His face twisted with guilt.
Damn it, Lucy, I forgot he muttered, running a hand through his hair.
Obviously, I replied coldly, the pain choking me inside.
Dont start, he snapped. I work for us. You know that.
I gave a bitter smile.
For us? I shot back. Youre barely home, James. When was the last time we had dinner together? Watched a film? Talked like husband and wife?
Thats unfair, he frowned. Im building a career so we have a future.
What future? We live like strangers under the same roof! My voice cracked. I earn more than you, so dont hide behind providing for the family.
His face hardened.
Of course, youd throw that in my face, he sneered. How am I supposed to keep up with my successful wife?
Thats not what I meant
Enough, Lucy. Im going to bed. He cut me off and walked away, leaving me alone with the cold cake and burnt-out candles.
I blew them out, whispering to myself that things would get better. Hes my husband. I love him. Every marriage has rough patches, right?
How wrong I was to forgive him so easily.
Wed been married three years, but the last one had been a slow, painful unraveling. We had no childrenthank heavens for that. My job as a marketing director brought in most of our income, while James, a sales executive, constantly complained about stress, long hours, traffic everything except the truth, which I discovered too late.
Three weeks after my ruined birthday, I came home early with a splitting headache. All I wanted was painkillers and bed. But as I reached our house on the outskirts of Manchester, something felt off. The doorknob and lock, once brass, now gleamed with new silver metal.
What? I whispered, sliding in my key. It didnt turn.
I tried again, but the key wouldnt budge. Confused, I double-checked the address. This was definitely my home.
Then I spotted a note taped to the door. Jamess familiar handwriting hit me like a punch: *This isnt your home anymore. Find somewhere else.*
The world spun. My blood ran cold.
Youve got to be kidding me, I hissed.
I pounded on the door, shouting his name. Finally, it swung open. James stood there, and behind him, a woman wrapped in my cashmere dressing gowna gift from my mother.
Seriously? My voice shook with rage and hurt.
Lucy, listen, he crossed his arms, smirking. Ive moved on. Anna and I are together now. We need this place. Go stay with someone.
*Anna.* The same just a coworker hed mentioned for months. She stepped forward, hands on hips, and sneered:
Your stuffs in boxes in the garage. Take it and leave.
I stared at them, stunned. Then I turned and walked to my car, determination burning inside me. They thought they could toss me aside and win. But I wasnt giving up. I needed a planone that would hit them hard.
I knew exactly who to call.
Lucy? Oh my God, whats wrong? My sister Emily pulled me into her flat, taking in my tear-streaked face. What happened?
I collapsed onto her sofa, spilling the story between sobs.
That absolute wanker! Emily hissed when I finished. And that Anna woman *wore* your dressing gown?
Mums gift, I choked out. The cashmere one from last birthday.
Emily marched to the kitchen and returned with two glasses of wine.
Drink, she ordered. Then well figure out how to ruin them.
What can I do? I sipped. The flats in Jamess name. The mortgage was under his credit because mine was still recovering from my masters.
Emily narrowed her eyes.
And who paid for everything else?
Both of us, but I paused, realizing. I bought everything. The furniture, appliances, even the bathroom renovation last year. Its all in my name.
Exactly! She grinned. What does James have besides an empty flat?
I opened my banking app and scrolled through transactions.
I have all the receipts. I always handled the finances.
Of course you did, Miss Accountant, she laughed. Queen of spreadsheets!
For the first time in this nightmare, I felt in control again.
They think theyve won, dont they? I whispered.
Emily clinked her glass against mine.
Theyve no idea who theyre dealing with.
The next morning, I called my solicitor friend, Charlotte.
What he did is illegal, she said after a sip of tea. He cant change the locks and kick you out, even if the flats in his name. Youve a right to live there.
I dont want to go back, I said firmly. But I want whats mine.
Charlotte smiled.
Then lets make a list.
We spent the morning cataloguing everything Id bought for the flat: the sofa, TV, fridge, even the rugs. By noon, I had a detailed list with receipts, dates, and amounts.
Impressive, Charlotte nodded. With this, no one can argue its not yours.
So I can take it all?
Legally, yes. But Id bring a police escort to avoid accusations of breaking in.
I remembered Jamess smug grin. Anna in my dressing gown. Their confidence that theyd won.
No, I said slowly. Ive got a better idea.
That same day, I hired a moving company. The owner, Mark, listened to my story and nodded in understanding.
Had a similar case last year, he said.
The next morning, while James and Anna went for coffee, the movers slipped in with my old key and took every last fork Id bought with my salary, leaving the flat so empty even the echoes faded into the walls.
Sometimes, the best revenge isnt angerits silence, precision, and walking away with everything youve earned. They wanted the flat? Fine. But theyd learn the hard way that a home isnt made of bricksits made of love, effort, and respect. And theyd lost all three.
