So, I let my ex move in with me to help him get back on his feet, and then he brings home a new girlfriend without even asking.
My name’s Catherine Smith, and I’ve always prided myself on being someone who helps others, especially people I care about. So when my ex, Alex, came to me in a rough spot, I didn’t hesitate. I opened my door, thinking it’d just be temporary. But what he did flipped everything upside down—made me feel betrayed in my own home.
Alex and I split two years ago, but we stayed friendly. We’d meet for coffee now and then, catch up. He wasn’t a bad guy, just not the right one for me. When he lost his job and wound up homeless, I stepped in. “It won’t be long, Cat,” he promised. “Just till I get sorted.” So he moved into my flat in a little town in the south of England.
At first, it was fine. He respected my space, job hunted all day, and in the evenings, we’d chat. It was odd having him back in my life, even like this, but I got used to him. He wasn’t demanding—just needed a roof and time to figure things out. I still saw the guy I’d once shared dreams with, so I wanted him to pull through. But then things started changing, and not in a good way.
One day, I came home early. Expected silence, but instead, I heard voices. Thought maybe Alex had a mate over, but when I walked in, I froze. There was some woman on my sofa, laughing with him like they’d known each other forever. I just stood there, stunned, until Alex spotted me and went pale. “Cat,” he stammered, standing up. “Didn’t think you’d be back this soon.”
Took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “I see you’ve got company,” I said, my voice tight. “Who’s this?” He hesitated, glancing between her and me. “This is Emily,” he finally said. “We’ve… been seeing each other for a bit.” My head spun. He’s living in my house, eating my food, sleeping under my roof—and didn’t think to mention he had a girlfriend? “You never said anything,” I managed, my throat tight.
Alex looked guilty. “Didn’t think it mattered,” he muttered. “It’s pretty new. Didn’t want to burden you.” Burden me? It wasn’t about that—it was about respect. This was my home, my kindness, and he just waltzed someone in without a second thought. “We need to talk,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “You didn’t ask if you could bring someone over. That’s not okay.”
Alex blinked. “Cat, come on,” he said. “Didn’t think it’d be a big deal. She’s just visiting—not moving in.” But the way Emily was lounging on my sofa told a different story. It wasn’t just irritation—it was betrayal. He’d crossed a line. “This isn’t just a quick visit,” I shot back. “You brought her into my home without asking. That’s not on.”
Alex stepped closer. “Didn’t mean to upset you. Emily’s just been… helping me through all this.” That just made it worse. “And did you think about me?” I snapped. “I gave you a place when you had nowhere else, and you didn’t even have the decency to check if this was alright?” Emily stood up, flustered. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble. Just came to see Alex.” But it wasn’t about her—it was about him.
The next few days were unbearable. Alex tried to make amends, but the trust was broken. I wasn’t mad at Emily—she didn’t know—but what Alex did stung. He acted like my home was his, forgetting I’d done him a favour. I felt like I was losing control of my own space.
Finally, I sat him down. “Alex, I’ve done a lot for you,” I said, firm but calm. “But this is my place, and you need to respect that. I never agreed to strangers being here.” He nodded, avoiding my eyes. “I get it, Cat. I’m sorry. I’ll talk to Emily—sort it out.” It wasn’t easy, but it needed saying. He admitted it was time to find his own place, and Emily didn’t come round again while he was staying.
After that, things were awkward. Alex tiptoed around, and I just felt… tired. I hate drama, but this made me realise—my home didn’t feel like mine anymore. One morning over coffee, he finally said, “I’ve started looking for a flat.” I nodded, relieved. “Good,” I said, hiding how much better that made me feel.
He fidgeted with his mug. “Cat, I’m sorry. You’ve been amazing, and I let you down.” I knew he meant it, but the hurt didn’t vanish. “I helped because I wanted to,” I said. “But now I need my space back. It’s best for both of us.” He agreed, and for the first time, I think he really understood.
Soon after, he found a studio and moved out. The day he left, I felt this weird mix of nostalgia and liberation. We’d loved each other once, and even after the breakup, I thought we’d stay friends. But real life isn’t that simple. As he loaded his stuff into the car, he paused. “Thanks for everything, Cat. Seriously.” I gave him a small smile. “Take care, Alex.” And then he was gone.
I closed the door and breathed. For the first time in ages, my home was mine again. This whole mess taught me something: kindness shouldn’t cost you your peace. Helping is good—but so is knowing your limits. Now, sitting on my sofa, I know one thing for sure: my home is my sanctuary, and I won’t let anyone ruin that again.
