**Diary Entry 14th May**
“Empty the flatIm getting married, and well be living here,” declared my husbands daughter from his first marriage.
“Margaret, you forgot to sign your holiday request form. HR needs it by lunch,” my younger colleague, Emily, reminded me.
I looked up from my computer and smiled. “Thanks, Ill pop over now.” Setting my work aside, I headed to HR, already dreaming of a seaside trip. But David, my husband, insisted we save money and stay at his familys cottage in the Cotswolds. I didnt argue. After eight years of marriage, Id learned to pick my battles.
Back at my desk, I noticed several missed calls from Davidodd, since he rarely phoned during work hours. I rang him back.
“Meg, can you come home early today?” His voice was tense.
“Is everything alright?”
“Sophias here. Says she needs to talk to us.”
SophiaDavids daughter from his first marriage. Twenty-seven, lived in Manchester, and only turned up when she wanted something.
“Ill try for six.”
My boss let me leave early. The three-bedroom flat in Surrey had been my parents. When I married David, I never thought to draft a prenup. Love and trust were enough.
At home, I heard voices in the living room. Sophia was chatting animatedly, David nodding along. I kicked off my heels and joined them.
Sophia sat on the sofa in a sleek dress, a well-dressed young man beside her. An open bottle of champagne sat on the coffee table.
“Ah, Margaret, finally,” she said, eyeing me. “Meet Daniel, my fiancé.”
“Pleasure,” I shook his hand.
“Sit,” David motioned to the armchair. “Sophias got something important to discuss.”
I sat, nerves prickling. Something was off.
“Clear out the flat. Daniel and I are moving in after the wedding,” Sophia announced bluntly.
I stared. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. We need a place, and thisll do nicely.”
“Sophia, this is Margarets home,” David said weakly.
“Youve been on the lease eight years, Dad. Legally, youve got rights. And Im your only heir.”
The blood drained from my face. “David, whats happening?”
He wouldnt meet my eyes, fidgeting with a napkin. “Meg, shes got a point. Maybe we should talk”
“Talk about *what*? This is *my* flat. My parents bought it. I grew up here!”
“But Dad has rights,” Sophia pulled papers from her bag. “My solicitor confirmed it. Eight years of cohabitation, shared billsa court could award him half.”
“Are you *mad*?” I turned to David. “Say something!”
“Meg, lets stay calm. Sophias youngshe needs stability. We could rent somewhere smaller.”
I couldnt believe my ears. The man Id trusted for eight years was calmly discussing evicting me from my own home.
“David, surely you see this is reasonable,” Daniel cut in. “A young couple needs space. Two bedrooms are excessive for you both.”
“And who are *you* to decide what we need?” I kept my voice steady, though my hands shook.
“Sophias future husbandpractically family.”
“Youre *no* family of mine.”
“Dont be rude, Margaret,” Sophia snapped. “Daniels father owns a property firm. Were not some gold-diggers.”
“Then let his father buy you a flat.”
“Why buy when this ones available?” She shrugged. “Dad, you *do* want me happy, dont you?”
“Of course, darling.”
“Then *talk* to her. Its your flat too.”
I pulled out my phone.
“What are you doing?” David tensed.
“Calling my solicitor. And I suggest you all leave.”
“Meg, dont be like this” He reached for me, but I stepped back.
“James? Its Margaret Whitmore. I need an urgent consultationtomorrow morning? Perfect.”
Hanging up, I faced them. “Now, get out. I need to think.”
“This is *my* home too,” David protested.
“No. Its *mine*. Youre here by my goodwill.”
“Dad has every right to stay,” Sophia stood. “And so do I, as his guest.”
“Sophia, leave now, or Ill call the police.”
“How *dare* you!” she shrieked. “Dad, youll let her?”
David looked between us, lost.
“Meg, please”
“Enough. Im staying with Sarah tonight. When I return, I expect her *gone*.”
I grabbed my bag and left. My hands trembled in the lift. Eight years. Eight years of trust, and hed sell me out for his daughters greed.
Sarah, my best friend, lived nearby. One look at me, and she knew. “Tea. Now.”
Over chamomile, I explained. Sarah shook her head. “I *told* you to get a prenup.”
“Not helpful.”
“Sorry. Whats the plan?”
“Solicitor first. ThenGod, I dont know. Divorce, probably.”
“And wheres *he* going? Hes got no assets.”
“Not my problem.”
David called. I declined.
“Not talking?” Sarah asked.
“Whats left to say? He chose.”
I stayed the night. Next morning, I went straight to my solicitor. James, a silver-haired man with sharp eyes, listened patiently.
“Margaret, relax. The flats yoursacquired pre-marriage, inheritance. David has no claim.”
“But the lease”
“Means nothing. Worst case, you give him a month to vacate if you divorce.”
Relief washed over me.
“They cant evict me?”
“Not a chance. And if they harass you, file a report. This is coercion.”
Work was a blur. David kept calling. I ignored him.
That evening, I returned home. David sat at the kitchen table, nursing tea.
“Meg, thank God. Ive been worried.”
“Wheres Sophia?”
“Gone to Daniels. Meg, we need to talk.”
“About what? How you sat silent while she demanded my home?”
“I was shockedI never thought shed”
“Really? She had *legal papers*, David. This was planned.”
He stared into his mug. “Shes my daughter, Meg. My *only* child.”
“And Im your *wife*.”
He said nothing.
“Right. Im filing for divorce.”
“Meg, wait”
“No. You showed me who matters. She wins.”
That night, he packed a bag. “Ill stay with Mark.”
“Do what you want.”
He paused at the door. “Is this really it?”
“Yes. Goodbye, David.”
The flat felt emptier but peaceful. For the first time in weeks, I breathed.
A week later, Daniels mother, Eleanor, phoned.
“Margaret? I owe you an apology. Daniel told me everything. Outrageous behaviour.”
I was stunned. “Thank you, but”
“Meet me tomorrow. We must discuss Sophia.”
Curious, I agreed. Over coffee, Eleanor sighed. “Shes manipulated Daniel. Claimed shes pregnant, demanded a rushed wedding. When he hesitated, she *promised* him your flat.”
“*My* flat.”
“Precisely. Margaret, I looked into her. No job, floats between men. A textbook fortune-hunter.”
“And the baby?”
“Doubtful. Even if true, paternity tests exist.”
Oddly, I pitied Daniel. “What do you propose?”
“Stand your ground. Ill handle my son.”
Back home, Sophia was *in my flat*, rifling through drawers.
“What are you doing here?”
“Dad gave me keys. Just scoping out *my* new place.”
“Get. Out. Now.”
She laughed. “Or what?”
I dialled 999. “Police? Theres an intruder in my homerefusing to leave.”
Her smirk vanished. “Youre *mental*!”
“Try me.”
She fled.
David returned that night, shoulders slumped. “Im staying with Mark.”
“Fine.”
“Youre really divorcing me?”
“Yes.”
He left without another word.
Eleanor called days later. “Sophias *not* pregnant. Daniel insisted on a testshe lied. Theyre done. Hes gone to work in Paris. And Sophia? Already has a new fiancé.”
“Charming.”
“Indeed. Take care, Margaret.”
The divorce was swift. David didnt contest it, only apologised. I forgave himbut closure isnt reconciliation.
A month later, a new colleague joined our team. Thomas, a softly spoken programmer from Edinburgh. Tall, kind-eyed. He fixed my crashed laptop, then asked me for coffee.
“Married?” he asked bluntly.
“Recently divorced.”
“If I maywhy?”
I smirked. “Long story. Lets just say we wanted different things.”
He nodded. “I get that. My divorce was five years ago.”
We started seeing each other casuallywalks, films, easy conversation. Thomas was witty, well-read, *present*.
One weekend, we bumped into David and Sophia in Hyde Park. David flinched; Sophia glared.
“Margaret.”
“David. This is Thomas.”
They shook hands. Sophia yanked her fathers sleeve. “Dad, *move*.”
As they left, Thomas murmured, “Ex-husband?”
“Yep.”
“And the flat-stealing daughter?”
I blinked. “How?”
“Sarah works in my department. Shes fond of you.”
I laughed. “Shes a gossip.”
Thomas took my hand. “Glad you divorced him.”
“Why?”
“Otherwise, wed never have met.”
I smiled. Funny how life works. What seems like an ending is sometimes just the start of something better.
That night, I boxed up old photos of David. Eight yearssome good, some not. But when tested, he failed. *I* didnt.
My phone buzzed. Thomas: *”Today was lovely. Tomorrow again?”*
I typed back: *”Yes.”*
Life goes on.
**Lesson learned:** Trust is preciousbut so is your home. Never let anyone make you choose between the two.
