The phone rang, and I knew it was him before I even answered. That voicesoft, wheedling, the same one that had once whispered promises of foreverwas sickeningly familiar.
I stayed silent, tracing the frost patterns on the windowpane. A call from my ex-husband, David, after two years of near-silence, could only mean trouble. It always started like thisa prelude to a request.
“Annie, dont just ignore me. I need to talk to you.”
“I’m listening,” I answered flatly, my voice brittle as a snapped twig.
He hesitated, choosing his words. That was his waytesting the waters before delivering the blow.
“Look, I know this sounds odd but me and Hayleywere in a tight spot. We had to leave our flat, cant find a new one.”
I let him talk, each word a pebble plopping into the still lake of my composure.
“Could youjust for a couple of monthslet us stay at the cottage? Well be quiet, you wont even notice were there.”
*”Me and the new wife have nowhere to live, let us have the cottage.”* So casual, as if he were asking me to pass the salt.
As if there had never been betrayals, lies, or the way he left me picking up the shattered pieces of myself.
A memory flashedtwenty years ago, building that cottage together. Young, tanned David, hammer in hand, laughing. *”This is our fortress, Annie! No matter what happens, well always have this place. Our retreat.”*
How poisonous those words tasted now. *Our retreat.* Hed brought another woman into it. And now he wanted to make her its mistress.
“David, have you lost your mind?” I asked, straining to keep my voice steady.
“Annie, please. Weve got nowhere else. You know Hayleyshes pregnant. We cant sleep on the streets.”
Hed struck the rawest nerve. Children. The one thing we never had. And for themoh, how easily it had come.
I closed my eyes. Inside me, two beasts warred. One wanted to scream every vile thought Id ever had about him, slam the phone down, and forget him forever. The other whispered: *This is your chance. Not to forgive. To settle the score.*
“We vowed to stand by each other, no matter what,” he pleaded now, pressing on that old sense of duty, the *good girl* Id been for him all those years.
Another memoryour wedding. So young, his eyes locked on mine. *”Ill never betray you.”* Fifteen years later, packing his things: *”Sorry, it just happened. Feelings fade.”*
Betrayed. *Faded.* And now he wanted my help.
A cold, crystalline clarity filled me. The plan formed instantly. Brutal. Perfect.
“Fine,” I said evenly, surprising even myself with my calm. “You can stay.”
Relief gusted down the line. He babbled thanks, something about always knowing Id come through. I stopped listening.
“The keys where it always is. Under the stone by the porch.”
“Thank you, Annie! Youve saved us!”
I hung up. The trap was set. Now all I had to do was wait for the beast to grow careless.
Two days passed. I lived on edge, flinching at every phone alert. I knew hed call againto check I was still hooked.
The call came Saturday morning.
“Hey! Were here, its brilliant,” David chirped, his tone no longer begging but proprietorial.
“Place needs workcobwebs, the gardens a mess. But Hayley and I will sort it.”
I gripped the countertop until my knuckles whitened. *”Well sort it.”* In *my* home.
“I didnt ask you to *sort* anything,” I said crisply. “I said you could stay.”
“Annie, dont be like that. We just want to improve things. Hayley says the airs good for the baby. Shes picked a spot for a flower bed. Right under the bedroom window.”
*Our* bedroom. Where the wallpaper still bore the faint scratches from the cats claws.
“Dont touch my roses,” was all I said.
“Who wants thorns anyway?” he snorted. “Hayley likes peonies. Listentheres more. The attics full of your junk. Boxes, old clothes. We need the space. Can I move it to the shed?”
A flash of the pastour first flat. David *”upgraded”* the bathroom, ripping out the tiles Mum and I had spent weeks choosing. *”Theyre dated, Annie, Ill make it modern.”* The result was crooked, cheap, and drained our savings. His initiatives always cost me too much.
“Leave my things alone, David.”
“Why cling to rubbish?” he snapped. “We need room! Cant you be reasonable? Hayleys stressedits bad for the baby!”
A whisper, then her voicecloying, faux-sweet: *”David, dont shout. Ask nicely. Annie, love, we mean no harm. We just need space for the babys things”*
They were performing. He pushed, she softened. And I was meant to melt, hand over everything.
“I said: dont touch my things. And dont plant in my garden. Live in the house and be grateful.”
“*Grateful?*” he exploded. “I wasted fifteen years on you! And you begrudge us space? FineIll change the shed lock. You can collect your *precious* boxes when we leave.”
He hung up.
I stared at the grey cityscape outside. He wasnt just living in my homehe was *taking* it. Erasing me. Changing the locks wasnt rudenessit was war.
Very well. War hed get.
I waited a week. Lived normallymet friends, worked. Beneath the surface, the plan hardened.
The next Saturday, I drove to the cottage. Unannounced. Parked round the bend and crept up like a thief.
First, I saw my rosesuprooted, dumped by the fence like corpses. In their place: freshly turned earth, pale peony shoots.
Something inside me tore. This wasnt just arrogance. It was desecration.
I circled the house. New wicker chairs on the porch. Ugly floral curtains in the windows. They were *nesting*.
The shed door gaped openthe one where hed changed the lock. Inside, I froze.
My boxesrifled through, contents strewn in filth. Mums letters, the ribbon undone, lying in a puddle. My diaries, pages ripped out.
And on topmy wedding dress. Once white, now soiled with mud and grease. Beside it, an empty beer bottle.
They hadnt just cleared space. Theyd *savaged* my past. Trampled it.
Enough.
The *good girl* Anniewho feared conflict, who pleaseddied in that cold shed, staring at her defiled dress. In her place rose something else. Calm. Ice. Ruthless.
I didnt scream. Didnt storm in. Just turned, walked to the car, and drove.
Hands steady on the wheel. Mind eerily blank, yet crystal-clear.
First stop: the hardware shop. The heaviest padlock. Thick chain.
By seven the next morning, I stood at the gate. Wrapped it in chain. Clicked the lock shut.
I sat in the car, watching.
At ten, David ambled out. Tugged the gateonce, twice. Froze.
His relaxation vanished. He shook the gate harder, as if sheer force would undo metal.
Hayley scurried out. Her shriek pierced the car windows.
The phone rang.
“What the hell are you doing?!” he roared. “Youve locked us in!”
“Just securing my property,” I said coolly. “Considering you proved locks mean nothing when you broke into my shed.”
“What shed?! Youre insane! Hayleys pregnantwhat if she needs an ambulance?! Open this now!”
“An ambulance? Fine. Ill call the police instead. Report trespassing, destruction of property. Im sure *they* have tools to open gates.”
Silence. Just Hayleys muffled sobs.
“Trespassing?! You let us in!”
“I allowed a temporary stay. You decided you owned the place. Dug up my roses, turned the shed into a tip. You crossed a line, David.”
“Who cares about your old junk?!” he spat. “Youd really have us arrested?!”
“Its not *junk*. Its my past. The one you betrayed, then tried to destroy.”
I hung up. Dialled the police. Calm, preciselike ordering a take
