When my neighbour knocked on the door at ten oclock at night, he was holding an unfamiliar key in his hand.
I was alone in the kitchen, washing up after a long day. All I wanted was a bit of peace and quiet. When I opened the door, he stood there on the threshold, looking at me strangely.
Isnt this your key? he asked.
I glanced at the metal key in his palm. It looked exactly like mine.
No, I replied. Ive got mine right here.
I showed it to him.
He frowned deeply. Then why does it open your front door?
For a moment, I thought he was jokingbut his face was all seriousness.
What do you mean, it opens it?
Half an hour ago, he said, I saw a woman come in. I thought it was you, but then I noticed you were out on your balcony.
Suddenly, my heart began to thump in my chest.
Id been living alone for two years. After my divorce, I swore Id never again endure someone elses habits, their noise, or their keys rattling in my lock.
What did she look like? I asked, voice thin.
Dark hair about forty carrying a handbag.
A chill crept along my spine. No one else had a keyno one except me.
Except, perhaps, one person.
My ex-husband.
But hed moved out two years agoand the spare Id given him, he said he returned. Or so he claimed.
Are you certain she came in here? I said, fighting to keep my voice steady.
I saw her clearly, he said. She tried the handle and walked in.
I glanced over my shoulder at the inner door. Everything was silent.
Too silent.
Stay here, I told him.
But he shook his head. Im not leaving you on your own.
We moved slowly, side by side. The lounge looked just as Id left it. The light still glowed softly.
But something was different on the table.
A mug.
My mug.
Filled with water.
I stopped dead.
I havent had any water tonight, I whispered, heart racing.
My neighbour stepped over and touched the mug.
Its warm.
Suddenly, a faint noise came from the hallwaya soft scuffle, as if something had been moved.
We froze.
Is anyone there? my neighbour called out.
No answer.
He led the way. I followed close behind. My bedroom door was partly ajar.
My heart beat so loudly I was sure hed hear it.
He pushed the door open wide.
The room was empty.
But my wardrobe hung open, clothes disturbed.
And on my bedsomething small: an envelope.
I picked it up. Only my first name, written on the front.
Hands trembling, I tore it open.
Inside was a notejust one sentence:
When youre ready to talk, you know where to find me.
I recognised the handwriting instantly.
My ex-husband.
My neighbour stared at the slip of paper.
Hes got a key?
I shook my head slowly.
He shouldnt have.
I sat on the edge of the bed, trying to make sense of it all. The last time Id seen him was in court. Hed been so calm, much too calm.
He even said to me then, One day, well talk again.
Back then I thought he was just talking nonsense.
But now someone had been in my home.
Sat at my table.
Drunk from my cup.
Searched through my things.
My neighbour watched silently from the doorway, eyes on the note.
This isnt right, he said quietly.
I know.
Suddenly, a realisation chilled me. I hurried to the cupboard near the front door, swung it open.
Thats where I kept my spare key.
And it was gone.
Then I understood something dreadful.
He hadnt made a copy.
Hed simply never given back the original.
And Id believed him.
My neighbours voice was low but steady: Might be time to change your locks.
I looked at the note once more.
Then I tore it in half.
No, I said. Its time to change something else.I took a shaky breath, the torn paper fluttering from my hands to the floor. I stood up straighter than I had in months.
My neighbour was still waiting, silent, watching me as if I might break.
Would you go with me to the locksmith? I asked.
He nodded. Of course.
I looked around at my bedroom, at the familiar chaos, the worn comfort, the evidence of my solitude and peaceinvaded, but not broken.
Without a word, I reached for my coat and my phone. I typed out a message to my ex-husbandbrief, final.
Do not come back. The locks will be changed. This is over.
Then I blocked his number.
On my way out, I paused by the table, emptied the mug of water, and set it in the sinkclearing away the last trace hed left behind.
My neighbour opened the door, glancing at me reassuringly.
Ill wait outside while you speak to the locksmith, he said.
No need, I replied, a quiet resolve steadying my voice. Lets walk together.
As the door closed behind us, something unburdened within menot fear, but a calm conviction. For the first time in a long time, I wasnt just locking someone out.
I was letting in the rest of my life.
