What on earth do you think youre doing? This is my home! I divorced your son three years ago! Emilys voice rang out with raw disbelief as she caught sight of her former mother-in-law standing at her flats door, plumber in tow, his toolkit already out as he fiddled with the lock.
Divorced nearly three years now, Emily had escaped a decade-long nightmarea marriage shadowed by her husbands cruelty and his overbearing mother. Her mother-in-law seized her wages, watched her every move, turned even the smallest mistake into an inquest. Meanwhile, her husband would drink himself into a stupor with mates until dawn, slamming doors and hurling insults as he stomped about. The years had drained Emily, leaving her health shattered and her figure changed by relentless stress.
Staring into her own haunted reflection one morning, Emily knew she had to go. If not now, she suspected shed lose herself entirely. The divorce became a battleground of shouting, threats, and her husbands refusal to leave her own flat. He demanded his share, dug in his heels, until the local constable had to intervene and remove him.
This evening, weary from work, Emily climbed the stairs only to find a chilling scene: her ex-mother-in-law barking orders at a plumber in a blue overall, urging him to hurry up. Emily froze for a moment, then called out, her voice echoing through the hallway.
What are you playing at?
Her former mother-in-law didnt bother to look around. Were here with my nephew to collect whats ours.
Have you completely lost your mind? Your son and I divorced. Three years ago. This is my flat!
Half of it belongs to my son, she coldly replied.
Emily stood in the corridor, chest heaving, unable to believe this woman would really break in. But the scene turned even colder when her ex-mother-in-law leant in to the plumber and whispered, Get on with it! She mustnt see whats inside. The words sliced through Emily.
What did she mean, not see whats inside? Emily pushed closer and spotted a faint line of dirt across the doormata mark she hadnt noticed before.
The door had already been opened, she realised with a thud of dread. Her voice rose, shrill with outrage: Have you been inside my flat already? The woman blanched, then sneered, We have every right.
Emily shouldered past, flung open the door, and what she saw made her blood run cold.
Her former husband lounged in the living room, sprawled out with a young blonde on his armhis latest mistress. Shopping bags and clothes were strewn across her chairs; a heap of trainers blocked the hallway. He caught her stunned gaze and grinned, smug.
Whats the matter? Halfs mine. Mum will swap out the locks, so off you pop. Were living here now.
Emily nearly collapsed, but forced herself to stay standing. Silently, with trembling hands, she took out her phone and dialled 999.
Within minutes, two officers arrived. Emily handed over her title deed, court decree, the eviction orderall the paperwork. The officers listened, eyes unreadable, then one spoke up:
Sir, youve entered someone elses property illegally. Well need you to come with us.
Her ex erupted in protest, while his mother shrieked empty threats, but neither could change the outcome. They were led away, the plumber warned of criminal charges, and her ex-mother-in-law, pale and shaken, sat on the stairs whispering, We thought he still had rights
Emily shut the door and sank to the floor, heart pounding, as the realisation washed over herat last, she could call the place her own.
