I fought back the tears blurring my vision as I stared at my reflection. No, I wouldnt break. Not here, not now. This was *my* flat, and no oneno onehad the right to force me out.
Six years of marriage to James, gone. To everyone else, we were the perfect couple. A cosy flat in Kensington, a gift from my parents for my twenty-fifth, holidays in Cornwall, evenings curled up with films I could still hear my fathers voice before the wedding:
*”Charlotte, the flat stays in your name. Its not that I dont trust James, but lifes unpredictable.”*
Id laughed it off then. Love was supposed to last forever.
*”Charlotte Elizabeth, are you hiding in there?”* A sharp voice cut through the door. I straightened my blouse, lifted my chin. If *she* thought Id crumble, she was wrong.
*”Coming,”* I said coolly, swinging the door open.
In the hallway stood a polished blonde in her thirtiesdesigner heels, a tailored suit, lipstick untouched. No wonder James had chosen her. She was everything I wasnt: sleek, corporate, distant.
*”Amelia Victoria,”* she said crisply. *”Jamess solicitor. Were here to discuss the eviction.”*
*”Eviction?”* A bitter laugh escaped me. *”From *my* flat?”*
Amelia tilted her head. *”James insists this is marital property.”*
Now I did laugh. *”Did he forget to mention my parents bought it *before* we married? That its solely in my name?”*
A flicker of doubt crossed her perfect face.
I remembered the cracks appearing. Late nights, missed calls, excuses about client meetings. Id given him spacethought it was stress.
*”I have the deeds,”* I said calmly. *”Would you like to see?”*
*”That wont be necessary.”* She pulled out her phone. *”Ill clarify with James.”*
As she stepped away, I sank onto the sofa. Memories flashedJames returning home stone-faced that final evening, dinner untouched.
*”We should part ways,”* hed said, staring past me. *”Im filing for divorce.”*
No scene. No tears. Just quiet actionI filed first, two days ahead of him.
Amelia returned, her confidence faltering. *”Theres been a misunderstanding. James wasnt entirely clear about the ownership.”*
*”You mean he lied,”* I said, standing. *”Hes good at that. Always has been.”*
She shifted uncomfortably. *”My apologies.”*
*”Dont.”* I opened the door. *”You were doing your job. But a word of advice?”* I paused. *”Be careful with James. Today its evicting his wife. Tomorrow”*
I didnt finish. But her eyesshe understood.
The moment the door clicked shut, my knees gave way. The phone rang*James*.
*”What game are you playing?”* he snapped. *”Humiliating Amelia like that?”*
*”*Im* humiliated? Sending your *solicitor* to throw me outthats not humiliation?”*
*”Shes not myshes my lawyer!”*
*”Who just *happens* to share your bed?”*
Silence.
*”Ill still get my share in the divorce,”* he hissed.
*”What share? The flats mine. You sold the Range Rover last year. Our joint account? Thats *my* moneyyou havent worked in two years.”*
More silence. I could *feel* him scrambling.
*”You know,”* I said softly, *”you almost convince yourself, dont you? Believing your own lies.”*
*”Charlotte, lets not”*
*”No,”* I cut him off. *”We wont.”*
A week later, walking through Hyde Park, I heard laughter. ThereJames and Amelia, hand in hand.
*”Just a solicitor, then?”* I whispered, throat tight.
They didnt see me. I turned sharply, heart pounding.
That evening, a knock. Amelia stood thereno suit, just jeans, hair loose.
*”May I come in?”*
I stepped aside.
*”Charlotte, I didnt know,”* she said, eyes down. *”About the flat. James said”*
*”Hes persuasive,”* I finished.
*”I crossed a line. Mixed personal with professional. Im sorry.”*
*”For what? Falling for a married man? Or trying to evict his wife?”*
She flinched. *”For all of it. I ended it.”*
*”Really?”* I raised a brow. *”Hyde Park today?”*
She paled. *”He calledsaid it was business. Then he backtracked, said hed made a mistake”*
*”And you believed him?”*
*”No,”* she said firmly. *”Thats why Im here. Hell come to you. Beg for another chance.”*
Of course he did. Next evening, lilies in hand.
*”Charlotte, Ive made a terrible mistake,”* James said, stepping forward. *”This thing with Ameliait meant nothing. We can start over.”*
*”What exactly have you realised?”*
*”That I belong with you. That our marriage is worth saving.”*
*”And Amelia?”*
*”A lapse in judgment.”*
*”Six months is quite a lapse.”*
*”Were you *following* me?”* Anger edged his voice.
*”No. But she apologised. More dignity than youve shown.”*
He stiffened. *”What did she tell you?”*
*”Enough,”* I said, leaning against the doorframe. *”Funny thingI overheard her at a café. Telling a friend how shed manipulated you to get my flat.”*
*”Youre lying!”*
*”Predictable,”* I sighed. *”Youll believe anything that suits you.”*
The divorce was swift. James didnt showjust some junior solicitor droning through formalities.
Stepping out of court, I breathed deeply. Free.
*”Mum? Its done.”*
*”How are you, love?”* Her voice wavered.
*”Better than expected,”* I admitted. *”Signed up for interior design courses. Always wanted to.”*
I threw myself into changenew paint, furniture, curtains. Erasing traces of him.
Months passed. My Instagram, filled with design sketches, gained followers. Then, one evening, I bumped into Amelia outside my building.
*”Charlottewait.”* She looked differentsofter. *”Thank you. What you said it made me rethink everything. I *was* using him. But you showed me how ugly that was.”*
*”Glad to help,”* I said, and meant it.
At home, I watched Londons lights from my window. This flatonce just a giftwas now *mine*. Proof I could stand alone.
On the sill, a cactus bloomedspiky, resilient. Like me. I smiled. The future? It was mine to shape. And this time, I *knew*my happiness depended on no one but myself.
