Emma sat at a corner table in a quaint London bistro, her fingers tracing the rim of her wine glass as she waited for her fiancé, James. He was unusually restless, checking his phone every few minutes with a tightness in his jaw she hadn’t seen before.
“James, you’re acting odd. What’s going on?” she asked, keeping her voice steady despite the unease coiling in her stomach.
“Just wait a bit longer. We’re expecting company,” he muttered, avoiding her gaze.
“What company?”
“My parents. And a couple of associates. This isn’t just dinner—we’ve got things to settle.”
Emma stiffened. She’d known James for nearly a year and could read his tense silences like a warning sign. They never ended well.
Minutes later, James’s parents, Richard and Margaret, arrived, followed by two strangers in tailored suits.
“Meet Daniel and Sophie,” James announced with forced cheer. “They’re interested in leasing your flat. Long-term arrangement.”
“My… flat?” Emma’s grip on her fork tightened.
“Obviously. They’re offering £2,500 a month. After the wedding, we’ll move in with Mum and Dad—their place in Surrey has plenty of space. No point letting your flat sit empty when it could generate income.”
Emma’s hands went cold. Oblivious, James pulled out a folder.
“I’ve already sorted it with the bank. We’ll transfer your mortgage into both our names—lower interest, easier payments.”
“You… decided all this without me?” Her voice trembled.
“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” Margaret cut in. “James is thinking of your future. You’re practically family now!”
Daniel and Sophie exchanged glances.
“Forgive me,” Sophie said coolly, “but is the flat under your name?”
“Not yet, but—”
“Then this doesn’t work for us,” Daniel interrupted. “We weren’t aware the owner wasn’t consulted. Good evening.”
They stood and left, the silence at the table suffocating.
“Brilliant,” Margaret snapped. “You scared off perfectly decent tenants with this tantrum, Emma!”
“Tantrum?” Emma rose slowly. “This isn’t a tantrum. It’s my right to decide what happens to my home.”
“Are you serious?” James paled. “We had everything planned!”
“You planned it. For both of us. Without me. And I won’t build a future with someone who thinks that’s acceptable.”
“Emma, just—”
“No. There won’t be a wedding.”
She walked out without looking back—and never replied to another message.
Later, perched on her windowsill with a steaming cup of tea, she let the weight of the moment sink in.
*Better alone with self-respect than with someone who doesn’t understand it.*
