**”I’m moving out. I’ll leave the keys under the mat,”** the text read.
**”Not this again, Marina! How many times?”** James snapped, tossing his phone onto the sofa. **”Every penny counts right now, and youre going on about a new coat? Whats wrong with the one youve got?”**
**”Its falling apart, James. Seven years old. Seven!”** Her voice cracked. **”I look like something out of a charity shop while everyone at works refreshed their wardrobe twice over. Am I not allowed one decent thing?”**
**”Of course you are!”** He threw his hands up, his face twisting into that familiar scowl. **”Just not now. The projects hanging by a threadevery pennys tied up. Once this deal closes, Ill buy you a damn mink. But for now, just hold on.”**
**”Ive been holding on for twenty years, James.”** The words surprised even her. Normally, shed swallow the hurt, make tea, smooth things over. But tonight, something broke. **”First, it was your degree. Then the car. Then this houseor rather, the renovations, because God forbid we actually buy our own place. Theres always something more important than me.”**
James scoffed, grabbing his jacket. **”Here we go. The greatest hits. I dont have time for thisIve got a meeting.”**
**”At nine in the evening?”** Her voice was quiet, but she already knew. These *meetings* had become too frequent lately.
**”Business, Marina. Not everyone clocks out at five like you. Some of us actually work to keep this roof over your head.”**
The door slammed so hard the china in the cabinet rattled. Marina stood frozen in the empty hallway, the silence thick as tar. She drifted to the kitchen, filled the kettle on autopilot, hands tremblingnot from anger, but from the hollow ache spreading inside her. She knew. About the woman from his office, younger, brighter. Shed shoved the thought away, but it buzzed back like a wasp.
Her phone vibrated. An apology, probably. *”Sorry, lost my temper. Well talk when Im back.”* But the message wasnt that.
**”Im moving out. Ill leave the keys under the mat.”**
Eight words. Sharp as a blade. She read them again, againletters swimming. This wasnt happening. A joke. A mistake. Not after twenty years. Not like this.
She lunged for the bedroom. His side of the wardrobe was half-empty. Best suits, shirts, gone. A lone tie forgotten on the shelf. His watch, chargermissing. Hed packed in advance. The coat argument was just an excuse.
Her legs gave way. She crumpled onto the bed, gasping for air. Twenty years. Her whole adult life. University sweethearts, married straight after graduation. This house, her parents old place, where theyd painted walls, picked furniture, dreamed of kids that never came. Shed worked at the local library; hed built his little business. Life wasnt perfect, but it was theirs. And now hed erased it all with a text.
She called Sophie, her only real friend.
**”Soph… hes gone.”** Her voice splintered.
**”Who? Where?”** Sophie mumbled, half-asleep.
**”James. For good. He textedhes moving out.”**
A beat of silence. Then
**”That bastard!”** Sophies voice sharpened. **”I told you those late meetings were bollocks! Look, dont panic. Hell crawl back. Men like him always do.”**
**”No. He took his things.”**
**”All of them?”**
**”Most. Said hed leave the keys under the mat.”**
**”Right. Stay put. Im coming over. Were getting wine. Or vodka. Something strong.”**
Sophie arrived in forty minutes, armed with a bottle of whiskey and a bag of crisps. She shoved a glass into Marinas hands. **”Talk. What set him off?”**
Marina spilled itthe coat, his temper, the cold distance lately.
**”Classic.”** Sophie swirled her drink. **”Midlife crisis. Thinks hes some hotshot with his shiny new girlfriend. But listenfirst, change the locks. Tomorrow. Second, lawyer up. That little window-fitting business of his? Half is yours.”**
They drank until dawn. Sophie ranted about revenge; Marina just stared, numb. She didnt want revenge. She wanted yesterdaywhen he was still here, when theyd shared coffee, when things were normal.
Morning came. Sophie left for work. Alone, Marina flinched at every creak of the floorboards. His dressing gown hung on the chair. She pressed it to her facestill his smelland sobbed like a child.
Days blurred. She called in sick, lied about flu. Ate nothing. Slept less. The silence gnawed.
On day three, she forced herself up. Called a locksmith. New keys in hand, she breathed easier. The house was hers again.
Then, the purge. Old T-shirts, socks, a toolbox on the balcony. In the loft, a box labelled *”James Documents.”* She dragged it down, dust choking her. Five years ago, hed stashed it, muttering about *”old contracts.”*
Curiosity won. She ripped the tape.
Top layer: invoices, receipts. Underneathdeeds to *her* house. Proof of inheritance. And then
A loan agreement. Signed by James. Three years ago. A massive sum. And the collateral?
*Her house.*
Ice flooded her veins. **How?** She was the sole owner. She scoured the papers. A copy of her passport. And
A power of attorney. Giving James full rights to her property. Her signature. But shed never signed this.
Memories flickered. Three years back. His *”urgent tax papers.”* Shed signed blindly, trustingly. It had been buried in the stack.
Her hands shook. She called him. Straight to voicemail. Texted: **”Whats this loan? You mortgaged MY house?!”**
The reply was cold. **”Not your concern. Ill handle it.”**
**”NOT MY? You had NO RIGHT!”**
**”I had the papers. Stay out of it.”**
She called Sophie, voice breaking.
**”Hes not just a bastardhes a criminal!”** Sophie hissed. **”Lawyer. Now. I know oneDaniel Hart. Helped my bosss husband. Ill text his number.”**
An hour later, Marina dialled, shame burning her throat.
Daniel Hart wasnt the grey-haired barrister shed pictured. Mid-forties, calm grey eyes. His office was quiet, oak-panelled.
**”Tell me everything,”** he said.
She did. The loan. The forged signature. The looming deadlinetwo months until the debt swallowed her home.
**”We can fight this,”** Daniel said. **”Prove you were misled. OrJames repays the debt.”**
**”He wont. Hes broke.”**
**”Then we go to court.”**
Relief, thin but real, trickled in. A plan. A lifeline.
Days passed. Work became her sanctuary. Evenings, Daniels updates. She stopped mourning James. Now, she seethed.
Then, gossip. Neighbour Betty, eyes bright with drama: **”Saw your James in a flash new car, love. With some young thing. Thought it was his daughtertill I saw them kissing!”**
Marinas cheeks burned. So hed moved on*spending the money hed stolen from her.*
Daniels eyes lit at the news. **”If hes splashing cash, well find it.”**
A month later, the flat felt lighter. Shed bought the coatsky-blue, soft. Her first *just-for-her* purchase in years.
Thena knock. James. Gaunt, shadows under his eyes.
**”Marina. Please. We need to talk.”**
She left the chain on. **”About what? Your text was clear.”**
**”The house. The loanIm ruined. The deal collapsed. Theyll take it in a month.”**
Her laugh was sharp. **”*Your* debt. *My* house. Youll move in with *Kirsty*, wont you? Or did she dump you already?”**
He flinched. **”She didnt know. I thoughtId fix it, divorce you properly, leave you something”**
**”Something?”** Her voice cracked. **”You were leaving me *homeless*!”**
**”Sell it, then! Pay the debt, split the
