**Diary Entry 5th March**
The phone call came out of nowhere. Two years of silence, and then there he wasLiams voice, soft and wheedling, the same tone hed used when swearing forever. The sound made my stomach turn.
I didnt speak, just traced the frost patterns on the windowpane while he fumbled for words. He always did thistesting the waters before asking for something.
“Emily, listen Lena and I are in a tight spot. Had to move out of our flat, cant find another. We were wondering”
A pause. I let him stew in it. Every word was another stone dropped into the calm pond of my peace.
“Could we stay at the cottage? Just a couple of months, till we sort things out. You wont even know were there.”
*”Me and my new wife have nowhere to go. Let us use the cottage.”* As casual as asking to pass the salt. As if there had never been lies, affairs, or the way hed walked out, leaving me to piece myself back together.
A memory flashedtwenty years ago, building that place. Young Liam, sunburnt, hammer in hand, laughing. *”This is our fortress, Em! No matter what happens, well always have this.”*
Poisonous now. *Our* fortress. Where hed brought *her*. And now he wanted to make her its mistress.
“Are you out of your mind?” I kept my voice steady.
“Please, Em. Lenas pregnant. We cant sleep on the streets.”
A sharp twist in my ribs. *Children*. The one thing wed never had. And for them, it came so easily.
Two beasts warred inside meone wanted to scream, slam the phone down. The other whispered: *Let him in. Not to forgive. To make him pay.*
“We swore to support each other,” he pressed, voice pleading. Playing on duty, on the *good girl* Id been for him all those years.
Another memoryour wedding. Him looking into my eyes: *”Ill never betray you.”* Fifteen years later, packing his bags: *”Sorry. Feelings fade.”*
Now he needed help.
Cold clarity settled over me. A plan formed, brutal and perfect.
“Fine,” I said flatly. “You can stay.”
Relief gusted down the line. He babbled thanks, how he *knew* I wouldnt let him down. I wasnt listening.
“Keys are under the stone by the porch.”
The trap was set.
—
Two days later, he called again, cheerful now.
“All settled in! Bit of work neededcobwebs, the gardens a messbut well sort it.”
My grip on the phone tightened. *Well sort it.* In *my* home.
“Didnt ask you to *sort* anything. Youre *guests*.”
“Come on, Em. Lena says the airs good for the baby. Shes picked a spot for flowerbedsright under the bedroom window.”
*Our* bedroom. Where the wallpaper still bore claw marks from the cat.
“Dont touch my roses.”
“Who wants thorns?” he scoffed. “Lena prefers peonies. Oh, and the attics full of your junk. Boxes, old clothes. Can I move it to the shed?”
Flashbackour first flat. Liam “updating” the bathroom, ripping out tiles Mum and I had spent weeks choosing. *”Theyre dated, Em. Ill make it modern.”* It had been crooked, cheap, and cost me half my savings.
“Leave. My. Things.”
“Its *rubbish*! We need space! Lenas stressedits not good for the baby!”
A whisper, then her saccharine voice: *”Liam, dont argue. Emily, darling, we just need room for the crib”*
A rehearsed act. Him pushing, her softening. Expecting me to melt.
I hung up.
—
A week later, I drove to the cottage unannounced. Parked round the bend, walked the rest.
First thing I sawmy rose bushes, torn up by the roots. Mums roses. Dumped by the fence like corpses.
Fresh soil in their place. Peonies.
Something inside me snapped.
New wicker furniture on the porch. Ugly floral curtains in the windows. They were nesting.
The shed door hung open. My boxesripped apart. Mums letters, the ribbon undone, lying in mud. My diaries, pages ripped out.
And on top, my wedding dress. Once white, now soiled, greasy. A beer bottle beside it.
They hadnt just cleared space. Theyd *enjoyed* destroying what mattered to me.
Enough.
The *good girl* died in that shed. In her placesomething calm. Ice-cold.
I didnt shout. Didnt storm in. Just turned, drove to the hardware shop, bought the heaviest padlock and chain they had.
At dawn, I wrapped the gate in steel links and snapped the lock shut.
Sat in the car and waited.
By ten, Liam appeared. Tugged the gate. Tugged harder. Froze.
The call came instantly.
“What the hell?! Youve locked us in!”
“Protecting my property. Since you proved locks mean nothing when you broke into my shed.”
“Well *call the police*!”
“Do. Ill report trespassing, vandalism, and theft. Theyll have bolt-cutters.”
Silence. Thenwhispered arguing.
Half an hour later, officers arrived. I handed them the deeds while Liam and Lena screeched through the fence.
“Gather your things and leave,” the sergeant ordered.
Watching them shuffle out, bags in towLena shooting daggers, Liam staring at the groundI felt no triumph. Just quiet certainty.
The fortress had held. It was mine again.
And no one would ever dictate terms in my world again.
**Lesson:** Some people mistake kindness for weakness. Let them learn the difference the hard way.
