“Who are you?”
Emily stood frozen in the doorway of her own flat, unable to believe her eyes.
Before her stood an unfamiliar woman in her early thirties, her hair pulled into a short ponytail, while behind her loomed two childrena boy and a girlpeering curiously at the unexpected visitor.
In the hallway, strange slippers lay strewn about, unfamiliar coats hung on the rack, and the scent of stew drifted from the kitchen.
“And who might you be?” The woman frowned, instinctively pulling the younger child closer. “We live here. William let us in. He said the lady of the house didnt mind.”
“This is *my* flat!” Emilys voice trembled with indignation. “And I certainly never gave you permission to stay here!”
The woman blinked in confusion, glancing at the toys scattered across the floor, at the kitchen where childrens laundry hung drying, as if searching for proof of her right to be there.
“But William said Were his relatives He told us you wouldnt mind That you were kind and understanding”
A wave of outrage and shock washed over Emily, as if someone had thrown a bucket of icy water over her.
She slowly closed the door and leaned against it, trying to gather her thoughts. Her home, her space, her lifeand now she was the stranger in it.
A year ago, everything had been different. Emily had been on holiday by the sea, enjoying a well-earned break after completing a complex project restoring a historic building in central Manchester.
At thirty-four, she was a successful architect, accustomed to relying only on herself.
Her career occupied most of her life, and she didnt mindthe work brought satisfaction and a steady, comfortable income.
Shed met William on the promenade one sweltering August evening. He was charming, slightly older than her, with a warm smile and attentive brown eyes.
Divorced for three years, with two childrena ten-year-old boy and a seven-year-old girlhe worked as a site foreman for a large construction firm.
William courted her beautifully, in an old-fashioned wayflowers every day, restaurants overlooking the sea, long walks under the stars.
“Youre special,” hed say, pressing a kiss to her hand. “Intelligent, independent, beautiful. I havent met a woman as whole as you in years. You know exactly what you want from life.”
Emily melted under his words and attention. After a string of failed relationships with men who were either intimidated by her success or tried to compete with her, William seemed like a true gift from fate.
He respected her work, asked about her projects with genuine interest, and supported her when clients demanded the impossible.
“I love that youre strong,” hed say. “But still so feminine, gentle, and warm.”
The holiday ended, but their relationship continued. William visited her in Manchester; she travelled to see him in Liverpool. Video calls, messages, plans for the future.
Eight months later, he proposed on the very spot where theyd first met.
The wedding was modest but heartfelt. Emily moved to Liverpool to live with her husband, found work at a local architectural firm, and left her Manchester flat empty.
“Were family now,” hed say, holding her tightly. “My children are your children, my troubles are yours. Well face everything together.”
At first, Emily was happy. She loved the feeling of a real familythe warmth of home, the sound of childrens voices.
She gladly helped William with the children, bought them gifts, paid for clubs and lessons, took them to doctors appointments.
But gradually, things began to change.
It started with small thingsWilliam took money from her account without warning. “Forgot to ask, sorry,” hed say when she noticed the withdrawals.
Then came more frequent requests to help with his ex-wifes child support.
“You understand, dont you?” Hed spread his hands with a guilty smile. “The children arent to blame just because their fathers had a rough month with work. Im waiting on my pay.”
Emily understood and wanted to help. She loved William and had grown fond of his children.
But the requests became constant, and the sums grew larger
Paying for the childrens trip to visit their grandmother in Cornwall, buying new winter coats, covering summer camp fees, hiring a maths tutor.
The worst part was that William began transferring money directly from Emilys account to his ex-wife, without even telling her.
“Theyre *our* children now,” hed say when she confronted him. “You love them. Besides, you earn more than I do. Surely you dont mind?”
“Its not about minding,” shed reply quietly but firmly. “Its *my* money, and you could at least discuss it with me first.”
“Of course, of course. Next time, Ill ask.”
But the next time was no different.
Emily began to feel less like a wife and partner, and more like a convenient source of income. Her opinion wasnt sought; she was simply presented with a *fait accompli*.
And every time she tried to protest or discuss their finances, William accused her of being cold, selfish, unwilling to be a *real* family.
“I thought you were different,” hed say bitterly. “I thought money wasnt everything to you”
That May afternoon, when Emily decided to visit her ailing mother in Lancashire and stop by her old flat in Manchester to check on it, she still hoped things could be fixed.
Perhaps a little distance would help them both reassess and find a compromise.
But what she found in her flat surpassed her worst fears.
The place was in a state of lived-in chaos. Unwashed dishes cluttered the kitchen, unfamiliar laundry hung in the bathroom, and a childs cot stood in her bedroom.
On the table lay unpaid utility bills totalling over two hundred pounds.
“How long have you been here?” Emily asked, fighting to keep her voice steady.
“Three months,” the woman replied, still oblivious to the gravity of the situation. “William said we could stay until we found our own place. We *are* paying, of course. A hundred a month. He said you were fine with itthat you had a big heart.”
Emily pulled out her phone with trembling hands and dialled Williams number.
“William, did you *forget* to ask me something?!” she snapped, skipping greetings. “You moved a family into my flat without telling me. And wheres the money? Three hundred pounds for three months!”
“Em, theres no need to shout,” Williams voice was placating. “Theyre distant relativesSarah and her kids. They had nowhere else to go. You werent living there anyway. Surely you dont mind helping people? The moneys going toward our holiday to SpainI wanted it to be a surprise.”
Something inside Emily shattered then. Not from anger, but from cold, clear understanding.
She realised that to William, she wasnt a wife or partnershe was a resource.
Her flat, her money, her lifeall were at his disposal, and he hadnt even considered asking her.
“William,” she said quietly, steel in her voice. “Your relatives have one week to leave my flat.”
“Emily, have you lost your mind?” His voice turned sharp. “There are *children* here! Where will they go? Have you no heart?”
“Not my problem. One week. And I want every penny of the rent.”
“How can you? Youre my *wife*! Were *family*!”
“Dont start! In a proper family, *everyones* opinion mattersyou dont just decide for them.”
She hung up and turned back to the woman, who was staring in horror.
“Im sorry,” Emily said, and she *was* sorry. “But youll have to leave. No one asked *me*.”
The following days were a blur of action. Emily called a locksmith and changed the locks.
She consulted a solicitor to file for divorce and separate their finances.
She revoked Williams access to her accounts and cards.
He called dailypleading, accusing, playing on her sympathy.
“I thought we were a real family,” hed say, voice breaking. “I thought we were a team, that you truly loved me.”
“You thought you could do whatever you liked with whats mine,” Emily corrected him calmly. “Turns out, you cant.”
“Youre heartless! Destroying a family over money!”
“You destroyed it when you decided my opinion meant nothing.”
The divorce was swiftthere was little shared property, and no children of their own.
William returned some of the money hed spent on himself and his relatives, but not all.
Emily didnt drag out court proceedingsshe just wanted this painful chapter over.
“Youll regret this,” William said at their final meeting with the solicitor. “Youll end up alone. No one wants a woman so cold.”
“I want myself,” Emily replied evenly. “And thats enough.”
When the formalities were settled, she packed her things and lefthim, the sea, the problems behind.
