I blinked back tears as I stared at my reflection in the mirror. No, I wouldn’t fall apart. Not now. This was my flat, and nobody had the right to throw me out.
Who’d have thought six years of marriage to William would end like this? Everyone said we were the perfect couple. A cosy central London flat, a gift from my parents for my twenty-fifth birthday, holidays together, movie nights… I remembered what Dad told me before the wedding:
“Charlotte, we’ll put the flat in your name only. Not that I distrust William, but you never know what life might throw at you.”
I’d laughed it off then. I truly believed our love would last forever.
“Charlotte Elizabeth, are you asleep in there?” came an impatient voice through the bathroom door. I gave my reflection one last look, smoothed my hair, and straightened my shoulders. No way was I letting my husband’s new woman see me broken.
“Coming,” I said, opening the door.
In the hallway stood a striking blonde in her thirties. Designer suit, expensive heels, flawless makeup. No wonder William fancied hershe was everything I wasn’t: polished and corporate.
“Emily Victoria,” she said formally. “I’m William James’s solicitor. We’re here regarding your eviction.”
“My eviction?” A bitter laugh caught in my throat. “From my own flat?”
Emily tilted her head slightly. “William claims this is jointly owned property.”
Now I really laughed. “Did he conveniently forget my parents gave me this flat before we married? That it’s solely in my name?”
A flicker of doubt crossed Emily’s perfect face.
I remembered when things started unravelling. At first, just small thingsWilliam coming home late, talking less. Blamed it on a big project at work. I gave him space, thinking it was temporary.
“I’ve got all the paperwork here,” I said calmly. “Would you like to see it?”
“That won’t be necessary,” Emily said, pulling out her phone. “I’ll call William back.”
As she stepped away, I sank onto the sofa, memories flooding back. That evening William came home sober and said we needed to talk. I’d just made his favourite roast.
“It’s better if we separate,” he’d said, avoiding my eyes. “I’m filing for divorce.”
I didn’t make a scene. Mum always taught me to keep my dignity. I quietly gathered the papers and filed first, beating him by two days.
Emily ended her call. Her confidence had vanished. “There seems to have been a misunderstanding. William… wasn’t entirely truthful about the property situation.”
“You mean he lied?” I stood up. “Sounds about right. He’s always been good at rewriting history.”
Emily shifted uncomfortably. “I apologise for the inconvenience.”
“No need,” I said, opening the front door. “You were just doing your job. Though… word of advice?” She looked at me. “Be careful with William. Today he sends you to evict his wife. Tomorrow…”
I didn’t finish, but her expression told me she understood. When the door closed, I slid down the wall, knees shaking.
My phone rangWilliam’s name flashing up. “What the hell was that?” he snapped. “Why embarrass Emily like that?”
“Me? Embarrassed?” Anger surged through me. “Sending your girlfriend to evict me isn’t humiliating?”
“She’s my solicitor!”
“Who just happens to share your bed?” I couldn’t keep the sarcasm out.
Silence.
“You know I’ll still get my share in the divorce,” he finally said.
“What share? The flat was mine before marriage. You sold the car last year. What’s left?”
“Our joint account”
“Which has only my money,” I cut in. “Or have you forgotten you’ve lived off my salary for two years while building your business?”
More silence. I could practically hear him calculating.
“You know,” I said slowly, “I always wondered how you charm people so easily. Now I get ityou believe your own lies. You actually think you have rights to this flat?”
“Charlie, let’s not”
“Exactly,” I hung up.
A week later, I tried to focus on work but couldn’t. On Friday, I walked through Hyde Parktime to start moving on. Autumn leaves crunched underfoot until familiar laughter made me freeze. Twenty metres away, William and Emily held hands, deep in conversation.
“Not your solicitor then?” I muttered, throat tightening. They didn’t see me as I turned down a side path. Suddenly everything made sensethe late nights, the “business trips,” the sudden divorce.
At home, I opened the wine my colleagues gave me for my birthday. A knock at the door startled me.
Emily stood thereno suit now, just jeans and a messy bun. “Can we talk?”
I let her in.
“Charlotte, I need to explain,” she said. “The eviction thing… I didn’t know the flat was yours.”
“You took William’s word for it?”
“He can be very convincing,” she admitted. “We met six months ago at a work do. He said you didn’t understand him…”
“Classic,” I said wryly.
“I mixed personal with professional. I’m sorry.”
“For what? Falling for a married man or trying to evict his wife?”
Emily flinched. “For everything. I’ve ended things with him.”
“Really?” I raised an eyebrow. “Saw you in the park today.”
Her face paled. “He called, said he wanted me as his solicitor again. Then started talking about fixing things…”
I laughed bitterly. “And you believed him?”
“No,” she said firmly. “That’s why I’m here. He’s going to come crawling back to youapologies, second chances.”
Sure enough, next evening another knock. William stood there with my favourite lilies.
“Charlie, we need to talk,” he said. “I made a mistake. It meant nothing. We can start over.”
“Oh?” I crossed my arms. “What exactly have you realised?”
“That only with you I feel at home. Our marriage is worth saving.”
“What about Emily?” I deliberately used her name.
He stiffened. “A mistake. Momentary weakness.”
“Lasting six months?”
“Were you spying on me?” Anger crept into his voice.
“No, just happened to overhear her telling a friend how she planned to use you to get my flat. Funny, isn’t it? You thought you played her, but she played you.”
“You’re lying!” he snapped. “Emily loves me!”
“Predictable,” I shook my head. “Always believing what suits you.”
Next day, I met my solicitor, Elizabeth Margaret. We secured all the flat’s paperwork.
“Legally, it’s entirely yours,” she confirmed. “But let’s dot every ‘i’.”
The divorce went smoothly. William didn’t showsent some junior solicitor droning through formalities.
After court, I breathed deeply for the first time in ages. Free. I called Mum.
“It’s done.”
“How are you, love?”
“Surprisingly good,” I smiled. “Signed up for interior design coursesalways wanted to.”
“And work?”
“Took a month off. Going to redecorate, ditch all the old memories.”
I threw myself into changesnew paint, furniture, curtains. Each change made the flat more mine.
Life settled. Reconnected with old friends who’d drifted away during the marriage. Turns out many had noticed William’s behaviour but didn’t know how to tell me.
“You’ve changed,” my best mate Sarah said over coffee. “More confident.”
“I just realised something,” I stirred my tea. “I thought trust should be given freely. Now I knowit’s earned.”
“And you’ve got to protect what’s yours,” Sarah added.
“Exactly,” I set my cup down.
Six months later, I nearly finished my course and took my first design joba tiny Notting Hill studio. My design Instagram grew steadily.
One evening, I bumped into Emily leaving a nearby building.
“Charlotte!” she called. “Got a minute?”
She looked differentsofter, no power suit.
“Just wanted to say thanks,” she said. “What you said that day… made me think. I really had planned to use that situation. But you showed me how it looked from the outside.”
“Glad to help,” I said honestly.
At home, I watched London lights from my window. This flat had been just a gift once. Now it symbolised my independence.
On the windowsill, a cactus I’d bought after the divorce finally bloomed. A spiky little thing, learning its boundarieslike me. I smiled. The future didn’t scare me anymore. Now I knewmy happiness was mine to make.
