Snow had been falling since morningheavy, wet flakes that stuck to the asphalt, turning the motorway into a treacherous ribbon of ice. Olivia stared blankly out of the passenger window of their black Range Rover, not noticing the snow or the flickering headlights. All her focus was locked on the icy lump in her chest and the steady, measured voice of her solicitor on the phone clutched in her clammy hand.
Joint assets gained during the marriage are split evenly, Miss Olivia Morgan. Yes. But the flat your husband bought before your weddingthe one you moved into and have lived in for seven years, even though youre on the leasecant be divided. The laws clear on that. It remains his.
She placed the mobile down on her lap, hands shaking. Seven years. Seven years shed poured herself into making that concrete shell on the edge of town a proper homechoosing wallpaper, curtains, endlessly trawling through John Lewis for the perfect lamp to place by the sofa. Seven years washing, cooking, accepting his rowdy mates whod descend till three in the morning, enduring his heavy, jealous moods. And it was never hers. His fortress. Now, after her marriage came tumbling downafter that night hed never come home, and shed found lipstick she didnt own and a heart emoji on his phoneit turned out shed be the one walking away. Only herself, a modest teachers salary, and a battered suitcase of clothes.
So? What did that bloodsucker solicitor say? Tom, at the wheel, swerved into the next lane, his heavy face twisted in that familiar smirk. He knew. He already knew. He looked almost thrilled.
Olivia turned her head; her eyes were dry and huge on an ashen face.
The flats yours. Bought before we married. I get nothing.
He didnt reply, just gripped the steering wheel harder, jaw muscles twitching.
Knew it. What did you expect, Liv? Did you think Id be stupid enough to put half in your name? Thought I wouldnt plan ahead? His voice oozed self-satisfaction.
Inside, something snappednot from the cheating, the heartbreakthat was already behind her. This was something else. Cold, piercing clarity. It wasnt just that he didnt love her. He despised her. All these years, hed seen her as a lodger, a temporary inconvenience he could throw out at will. And hed made sure of it. Calculated it like an accountant.
Youve planned it from the start, she said quietly, barely recognising her own voice.
You have to plan, love. Dont be daft. Soon all women like youll be running for maintenance the way the law is going. Ive saved you from that. Free ride, reallyconsider yourself lucky.
A shudder she couldnt control threatened to take over, and she tried to mask it, but a strange calmness settled instead. The cold inside her expanded, filling every crevice.
Take me home, Tom. Ill pack and leave tonight.
Home? he scoffed. Thats my home. But Ive found you somewhere else. See?
He jerked the car suddenly onto the hard shoulder, headlights fading behind. They were on the outskirts, only occasional lampposts and the thunder of lorries barreling past. Snow lashed the windows. Darkness all around, fields and biting wind.
Out. Time for some fresh air. Give you a chance to think about your future.
Are you mad? Its minus ten out! Im in slippers! Olivia instinctively pressed herself back in her seat.
I said out! His roar stunned her. He flicked open the central lock, grabbed her arm. The smell of expensive aftershave, mixed with stale alcohol from the night before, filled her nostrils.
She tried to resist, braced against him, but he was far too big, far too angry. His fist, massive and bearing a chunky signet ring, caught her on the temple. Stars flared, pain shot hot through her head. Another blow, to her shoulder. She was dragged from the car like a rag doll, hitting the icy verge with her knee against the barrier. The door slammed shut with a crash. The Range Rover screeched off, spattering her with filthy snow from the wheels, vanishing into the swirling white.
For a moment, she lay there, unable to move. Pain burned in her limbs; her cheek and temple went numb. Snowflakes melted on her face, mingling with tears, finally flowing free. She staggered upright. On her feetthin felt slippers shed thrown on in a dash after that call from the solicitor. On her shouldersa light jacket, no use for a freezing night.
Her mobiledead. Charger left in his flat. In his socket. No one about. Only the roar of rushing cars that wouldnt so much as slow down. No one would glance twice at the lonely figure making her way along the verge in the dark.
Fear was thick enough to swallow. She understood: hed brought her out here to freeze. To “refresh” her, show her her place. Or perhaps worse No, murder was never the plan. Hed simply gotten rid of her like an unwanted toy. After that, not his concern.
She had to move. To walk. Anywhere. Olivia set off against the wind, heading back towards town. Every step sent pain through her bruised knee. The freezing air clawed its way inside her jacket. After five minutes, she couldnt feel her toes. After ten minutes, her face. Her breathing turned quick and ragged, clouds of mist freezing on her lashes.
One thought clanged cold and clear in her head: Hes gone off to celebrate. With his mates. To toast his victory.
Thats exactly what Tom had done. He pulled up at an upmarket spa and sauna on the edge of town, where his old uni mates, Ben and Alex, were already waitingbroad, loud, full of themselves.
Whats got you so cheerygot the flat then? Ben clapped him on the back, handing him a shot of whisky.
She legged it sharpish. Couldnt get out quick enough. Gave her a spin in the frost, see if it did her any good, Tom sneered, throwing back the whisky. The warmth settled in his gut and bolstered his confidence. He bragged about everythingthe solicitor, her face, the motorway. All of it, delivered with rowdy laughter and crude jokes.
His friends hooted with approval. Well done, mate! Put her in her place! All these women, want maintenance, want half the assets. They sweated in the oak sauna, swigged brandy from crystal, ordered thick steaks and jeered at bad jokes. Tom felt invincible. Hed won. Life was good.
But deep down, below the layers of drink and gloating, something restless prickled: that flash in her eyes before he struck. Not fearsomething else. Emptiness. Like shed already gone, before he ever shoved her out. He drowned the thought in another drink. This was his night.
They finished drinking closer to three in the morning. Tom, drunk and triumphant, made his way back to his place by taxi. His place. Forever his. Fumbling with keys at the front door, he stumbled into the hallway and flicked the lights on.
He was almost speechless.
The flat was immaculate. In the way a grave or a museum is immaculate. Everything belonging to Olivia was gone. The photos, the cross-stitched cushions, her books, her potted violets on the window ledgeall gone. But that wasnt the worst of it.
Shed taken only hers. Meticulously. Everything shed brought or chosen for their life together was missing.
In the lounge, no curtains hungjust bricked-black windows. Shed taken themthe rose-tinted ones shed hunted for half a year. All the pictures and posters were gone, just shadowy rectangles and nail holes on the dusty walls. On the kitchen shelves, no jars of spices, no fancy knives, no favourite mugs. Even the kitchen roll holder was unscrewed and gone. A bare screw jutted out uselessly.
He wandered through wobbling. In the bedroom, her half was stripped. Bare bedside table, an empty section in the wardrobe. Yet even half his pillows were missingthe ones shed selected. In the bathroom? Not a single thing. Her shampoos, hair bobbles on the tap, her dressing gownall vanished. Even the bath mat was gone.
He slumped down onto the cold living room floor, staring at the blank wall. The place was silent, empty in a way furniture cant fix. The soul of itthe warmth, comfortwas scrubbed out. Shed erased seven years of his life, left nothing but a concrete box with vacant windows.
He remembered her last looknot pain, not pleading. Just cold calculation. She hadnt planned to freeze on the verge. Shed given him his drama, played the helpless part he wanted. But while he drank in the sauna with his mates, she mustve come backno doubt by taxi, same as himhad the nerve to return to his home! And cleaned herself out, methodically, without a tear.
A wave of fury surged. He leapt up, pounded his fist on the wall. Cow! he shouted into the emptiness. But the emptiness swallowed it. He grabbed his phone to ring, to rage at her, threaten her. But he realisedher number was blocked, and he didnt know a new one. And what could he say anyway? Give me my curtains back?
He walked over to the window. Below, the city sprawled in yellow glows. Somewhere she was out there. Maybe at a friends, maybe already renting a room, paying from her teachers wage. And in her new place, doubtless, it was warmher weird curtains, her violets. Here? Here, it was freezing. Not the kind from outsidethe inner kind. The one that seeps into your bones.
Hed planned everything. Hed outwitted her. But what hed never counted on was that her leaving wouldnt be a retreat but a victors exit, taking all the spoils and leaving him only barren ruins. He had his flatevery last inch. And now every inch of it had the chilly weight of utter emptiness pressing against him.
Tom stood by the window, staring at his reflection in the black-glazed eye of the glass. Then he turned and wandered to the kitchen to pour himself another glassonly to realise there was nothing left but one battered mug, the one that read Worlds Best Dad, nicked from work. He drank straight from the bottle, sitting on the cold bare floor of the once-home, now only his flat forever.
And outside, the unforgiving snow went on falling.
