**Half the House Is Yours, But You Cant Live There!** Her ex-husband had moved a hardened criminal in with her and their son
Emily Carter slumped as she stepped out of the courtroom, as if her soul had been left behind on those cold benches, among the dry words and indifferent glances. She looked like a shadow of herselferased from life like an unwanted word scribbled out of a sentence. Her grey coat, crumpled and slung carelessly over her shoulders, nearly slipped off, as though it, too, had given up on her. Her once-neat hair tangled into a heavy cloud over her forehead. Her arms hung limp, but onepale and slenderclutched her sons small hand tightly, as if that touch was her only tether to reality.
“Mum” whispered Leo, hiding his face like he already knew she couldnt protect them both just then.
Emily couldnt look up. It was over. Gone. As if none of it had ever existed. Mark had done this. Hed torn their family apart, taken almost everything, smeared her name, even convinced their son she was to blame. Bitterness rose in her throat, her breath caught, and her chest tightened. Her treacherous memory dragged her back to that moment three months agothe kitchen, another womans cloying, expensive perfume, and Marks laugh, the same as ever, but no longer hers. She remembered how casually hed said, like he was commenting on the weather:
“Dont even think of making a scene. It wont end well for you.”
Now, in the bustling corridor of the county court, people rushed past. Someone chewed gum, another rummaged through a briefcase for a missing file. No one saw her pain. No one knew that inside, she was hollow. Everyone had their own lives, their own problems. Hers had just collapsed like a house of cards. She squeezed Leos handher only anchor. She just had to survive. The rest could come later.
Outside the house theyd once called home, Emily hesitated for the first time in years. Their belongings sat in pitiful piles on the concrete porch: a suitcase with a faded green stripe, a bag of toys, a box labelled “Documents.” Dust coated everything, and light rain had streaked dark stains across the bags. Leo buried his face in her shoulder.
“Mum, are we going home?”
Emily wiped his nose with the corner of her scarf, forcing a smile even as her lips trembled.
“Home is wherever we are together.”
She lifted the box, rolled the heavy suitcase onto its wheels. Behind the flats door lay their old lifeclosed off forever, like a theatre curtain after the final act.
Emily called her friend Charlotte, who answered in a dressing gown, the flat smelling of coffee and vanilla. Charlotte hugged her tightly, just like old times, and gave Leo a careful squeeze.
“Stay with me for a bit. Get your bearings.”
Charlottes children were already asleep. Over pasta, her friend kept catching Emilys eyethen looking away. The air thickened with awkwardness. Finally, Charlotte sighed.
“Im sorry Mark spoke to me too. He hinted you had issues. Legal trouble, substances. Told me to be careful.”
Emilys breath hitched. Even here, where theyd once laughed over photos on the walls, she felt like an outsider. Leo wolfed down his food like he feared being thrown out any second.
A few days later, Charlotte approached with a troubled expression.
“Im sorry, but Im scared for my kids. Marks told everyone. Someone even left medical reports about youclaims youre a danger. I know its lies, but how do I stop the gossip? Even the kids teacher asked about you.”
The warm flat became a cage. Emily packed hastily, heart pounding. Leo sniffled, confused.
“I want my teddy. Why didnt Dad let me take Teddy?”
“Dads busy, sweetheart,” Emily soothed.
That night, they slept at a bus stop under an orange streetlamp. Road dust, trampled grass. Leo slept with his head on her knee. Emily stared at the starless sky.
She made a decision.
“Were going to the cottage, Leo. Remember our house in the village? Where we picked raspberries last winter.”
The night stretched endlessly, the road ahead holding only a faint hope and an old house at the end of forgotten lanes.
The village greeted them with dust, rain, and time forgotten. A nettle-choked fence sagged like it had waited wearily for their return. The apple tree behind the house shed yellow-red leaves, the path untouched by footsteps.
Emily lifted her collar, breathing in damp grass and woodsmokea strange, prickling sort of comfort.
“Mum, are we staying long?” Leo asked, stomping on the wet doorstep.
“As long as it takes, love. Weve got cleaning to do.”
First, they washed windowsLeo drew silly faces in the soap, and Emily laughed, realising it was the first time in ages she hadnt cried.
“Help me clear the path?” she asked. Leo eagerly brought an old trowel, and together they cleared fallen branches and dead leaves.
Exhausted, Emily tucked Leo into an ancient bed. The dim lamp made the room almost cosy. Leo curled into her.
“Mum, are we going back to Dad?”
Emily held him close, fighting a tremble.
“Its just us now, Leo. Well be okay.”
Late that night, she opened her laptop. Her fingers hoveredshe wanted to vanish, to stop being Emily Carter.
Finally, she typed:
“Mr. Thompson, Ive had to leave town due to personal circumstances. Any chance of remote work?”
The reply came by morning.
“Emily,” her boss said evenly. “Ive heard the situation. Lets try remote for two months. Just dont well, you know. Hang in there. Weve got you.”
A tiny lifeline, but real.
Day by day, Emily gathered documents, scoured her memory for what shed need for the next hearing. At night, when Leo slept, she cried quietly, willing herself not to break. Sometimes, Leo brought her tea or a lopsided clay figurine.
“Dont be sad, Mum.”
Then the summons cameanother hearing in a week. Emily barely stifled a scream.
The second hearing was worse. Mark stormed inhaggard but aggressive, yelling before hed even sat down.
“Your Honour, she lied systematically, hid income! I could say more!”
Emily stared at the wall. The judgea weary man in his fiftiesraised an eyebrow.
“More evidence, Mr. Dawson?”
Mark waved papers, dropped a few. His lawyer snorted.
When Emily tried to speak, the judge cut her off.
“Youll get your turn.”
The pause was agonising. The verdict came raspy and final:
“Half the cottage is awarded to Ms. Carter. No further claims permitted.”
Mark shoved his hands in his pockets, stormed out. On the stairs, he snapped:
“Maybe Ill rent your half to someone *interesting*.”
Emily straightened, meeting his gaze with icy calm.
“Glad its over.”
But inside, she was hollow. Shed wonand lost everything.
*Why did everyone blame me? As if I destroyed us alonenot his lies, his women, his rumours.*
She returned to the empty house, hiding tears from Leo. Life felt like rock bottom. Thenshe called it the *second* bottom.
Three quiet days, three nights of dreadthen, as dusk fell, a knock. A man stood theretall, angular, like a shadow given form. His worn jacket clung like a second skin, stubble rough. Faded tattoos peeked from his sleeves.
No smile, no threat. Just calm. He set down a bag.
“Evening. Rented half this place from your ex.”
Emily stepped back, pulling Leo close.
“IIve got a child. Hope thats alright.”
He nodded curtly.
“Thomas Wright. Wont be in your way.”
The door closed. The phone rang inside. Emily stood frozenfear, confusion, numbness.
That night, she didnt sleep. Checked every lock, every window. Held Leo tight, listened to every creak. She was afraidof the unknown, of the past catching up.
For two days, Thomas was a ghost. Then, as Emily gathered storm-fallen branches, laughter erupted. Leo, red-cheeked, chased a football with village kidsand Thomas, effortlessly blocking shots, moving like hed shrugged off some old weight. He *laughed*. Emily stared.
She approached the porch where Thomas sat, spotting her.
“Not scared? I dont bite kids. Help, if anything.”
Then he talkednot about himself, but life, about being there when needed. Hed been inside once. Didnt hide it. A fightnot for trouble, but defending his ex. Said it plain, no pride, no shame. Just fact.
Emily was stunned. No bitterness, no drunken brav
