**Diary Entry: A Cold and Exquisite Revenge**
They lived together for thirty-five years. Nearly half a lifetime. James and Eleanor. It had begun like something from an old noveldancing in the rain, talking until dawn, dreaming together of a house with a garden. Eleanor was petite, fragile, quiet, but with a spine of steel. James, ambitious, eyes full of fire, always wanting more.
They endured poverty, debts, moves across the country, losses. When James built his business from nothing, it was Eleanor who held everything togetherhome, children, bills, illnesses. When success finally came, bringing comfort and stability, James fell in love. With his new secretary, leggy and bright, who laughed at his jokes and lingered a touch too long on his arm.
He made his decision quickly. Hired expensive solicitors to take the housethe one built brick by brick, renovated together, where Eleanor had planted roses and embroidered cushions. The home that had once been their shared dream.
The court gave the house to James. Eleanor had two months to leave. But she was gone in two days. No tears, no scene. Silent. She packed her bags, called the removal van. And as a farewell, she scattered flakes of boiled codthrough the curtains, behind the skirting boards, in the vents. Leftovers from the goodbye dinner shed made for herself, at an empty table.
Jamess new love moved into the “dream house” days later. Everything seemed perfect: the light, the space, the fireplace, the balcony. But within 24 hours, a putrid stench seeped through the walls. Nothing could erase itnot cleaning, not air fresheners, not renovations.
The smell grew worse. They scrubbed floors, replaced carpets, kept windows open. Bought air purifiers. Useless. Friends stopped visiting. No one could stand it.
James tried to sell. But rumours spread through the village. Buyers fled after ten minutes. Estate agents refused to help. The house had become cursed.
The couple took out a crushing loan for a new place. The money ran dry. Until Eleanor called:
“How are things, James?”
“Terrible,” he admitted, broken. “The house wont sell. Were ruined.”
“How odd,” she replied, calm. “You know, I miss that house. Would you sell it to me? For say, 10% of the value?”
James almost wept with relief. He agreed instantly. Ten percent? Anything to be rid of the nightmare.
The next day, Eleanor arrived with a notary. Papers signed in minutes. The couple left for their new home. She stepped into the empty house, took a deep breathand smiled for the first time in years.
But the story wasnt over.
The couple took everything from the old place: furniture, curtains, even the curtain rods! Especially the rods. James wouldnt leave a thing for his ex-wife. He dismantled them himself. And with them, he carried the source of the smell.
By morning, the stench had returned in their new home.
Eleanor knew it would. And she never called again.
Now, in her own house, she enjoys silence, clean walls, and roses in bloom. While James lives in a self-inflicted curse. For betrayal. For pride. For forgetting who stood by him when he had nothing.
