When I was still living under my mothers roof, my husband announced, gathering my suitcase, Your sister is on her way to us.
Are you serious? Its TuesdayEmma has school! I snapped.
My mother will collect her after lessons, Ive already arranged it.
Arranged? Without me? Simon, whats going on?
Nora stood in the middle of the bedroom, watching him methodically pack her belongings into the battered leather trunk that had once been brandnew. He pulled sweaters, shirts, jeans from the wardrobe, never looking at her. His motions were precise, rehearsed, as if hed practiced this moment countless times.
Nothings happening, he said calmly. Irene is staying for a week; she needs a private room. You know she cant stand noise. And Emma has been blaring music from dawn till dusk.
What does Emma have to do with it? Irene could stay in a hotel! Or on the couch!
Simon finally met her gaze. In his eyes Nora saw something shed never noticed beforecoldness, indifference.
The couch? My sister in a hotel? Nora, are you hearing yourself? This is my house, by the way.
Its our house, she whispered.
My, he cut in. Bought with my money. I decide who lives here.
A lump rose in Noras throat. Twentythree years of marriage. Twentythree years shed kept the home, raised their daughter, cooked, cleaned, waited for him to come home each night. And now he was stuffing her things into a trunk as if she were a temporary lodger.
How long? she asked, fighting a tremor in her voice. How long must I stay with my mother?
A week, maybe two. Irene hasnt decided yet. It depends on how things go.
What things? Shes on holiday!
Simon slammed the trunk shut, clicking the locks.
Its none of your business. Pack, Ill take you out in an hour.
He left the room, leaving Nora standing alone. She sank onto the edge of the bed, staring at the old, scuffed trunkthe same one theyd taken on their honeymoon. Back then it had been shiny, packed with her dresses and his shirts. Now it was a symbol of his eviction.
Her mother met her at the door, a sour look on her face.
What, finally got up?
Mum, please, Nora replied, dragging the trunk into the flat.
What do you mean please? I told you it would end up like this. I warned you when you married, when the house was put in his name. Listen to your mother!
Dorothy, now seventytwo, was a woman of strict rules and even stricter judgments. Her mind was still sharp, her will unbending, sometimes to Noras distress.
Mum, Ill just stay the night. It wont be long.
Ah, just a night. I know those stories. One week, then a month, and before you know it youre filing for divorce. Your sister is coming, you know. Which sister? The one who last visited five years ago?
Nora said nothing and slipped into the old bedroom, now a makeshift wardrobe and magazine storage for her mother. The narrow single bed, where shed slept as a girl, remained.
Have a cup of tea, her mother softened. You look pale. No breakfast?
Im not hungry.
Ten minutes later Nora found herself at the kitchen table with a mug of strong tea and a slice of toast. Dorothy sat opposite, eyes fixed on her.
Somethings happened, Dorothy said. He wouldnt just throw you out.
He didnt throw me out, he asked to stay with you.
Listen, Im seventytwo, but I havent gone mad. Men dont kick wives out without a reason. Either theres another woman, or money troubles.
He doesnt have another.
How do you know? You sit at home all day. He works from dawn till dusk. Did you check his phone?
Mum!
What, Mum? Youre naive, always have been.
Nora finished her tea and stood.
I need to pick Emma up. She gets out at three.
Simon promised to collect her.
Ill get her myself.
Emma, now fifteen, was a mirror of her motherchestnut hair, grey eyes, that stubborn set to her mouth. She had left school with friends, laughing, but when she saw her mother her face fell.
Mum? Wheres dad? He was supposed to pick me up.
Ive decided for myself, Nora said, wrapping an arm around Emmas shoulders. Lets go and talk.
They walked through an autumn park, Nora explaining shed have to stay with her mother, that Aunt Irene was arriving, that it would be brief.
He threw you out, Emma said flatly.
No, its just
Mum, Im fifteen, not five. I understand. He threw you out of the house, and me with you.
Emma, dont say that.
Emma turned, face earnest.
How else to put it? The truth. Ive noticed hes been acting oddly for a monthhiding his phone, disappearing in the evenings. Dont you see anything?
Im not blind.
Im not deaf either. Two nights ago he spent an hour in the bathroom talking to someone, thinking we were asleep.
Noras legs gave way.
What was he saying?
I didnt catch the words, just the tone. He was laughing. When was the last time you heard your father laugh like that?
Nora was silent. She truly could not recall.
In her mothers flat they found Dorothy already had two beds made and dinner prepared.
I love borscht, love potatoes with meatballs, Dorothy announced brightly. Well eat, then Ill put on a good film about love.
Grandma, Id rather stay in my room, Emma muttered, dropping her bag. I have homework.
What homework on a day off? You should be relaxing!
Emma disappeared into another room, leaving Nora and her mother alone.
She understands everything, Dorothy whispered. A smart girl. You cant hide anything from her.
They ate in silence. The borscht was thick, the potatoes fluffy, the meatballs juicyjust as only a mother could make. Nora forced down each spoonful.
Call him, Dorothy suddenly suggested. Ask how things are, mention the sister. Let him know you havent given up.
I dont want to call.
You must. You cant let a man run unchecked.
Nora didnt call that night nor the next. She kept herself busyhelping her mother, collecting Emma from school, trying to keep life moving. It felt as if time had stalled, hanging in a waiting room.
On the third day her friend Olivia phoned.
Nat, where have you vanished to? Ive called you a hundred times!
Sorry, my phone was on silent.
Is it true Simons seen some other woman?
Nora froze.
What? Where did you hear that
Olivia saw them at the new restaurant on High Street. They were sitting together, he was kissing her hand. I thought it was his sister, but she said she was about thirty, not his sister.
The restaurant on High Street? The one that’s pricey?
Nora hung up, hands shaking. The truth was dawning. Her mother and Emma had both been right. He had someone else.
Whats wrong with you, dear? Dorothy asked as she entered the kitchen.
Mum, can I go back home? I need to fetch something.
Dorothy gave her a long, measuring look.
Go. But dont make a scene. First find out whats really happening.
On the bus Nora tried to steady herself. Maybe it was a mistake, maybe Olivia had misread. Deep inside, however, she sensed the truth.
Outside her mothers block a sleek foreign car was parked. Nora climbed the stairs, fumbled for the keys, and felt her hand tremble as the lock clicked.
The flat smelled of expensive perfume, something she had never worn. Laughter, a womans voice, drifted from the lounge.
Nora slipped off her shoes and tiptoed down the hallway. The lounge door stood ajar.
There, on the sofa, sat a young woman with long blonde hair, barefoot in a white coat, a glass of wine and a platter of fruit on the table.
Simon sat beside her, his hand gently stroking her arm, whispering.
You promised she wouldnt be back before the weeks over, the woman said softly.
Shes at her mothers, Simon replied. Dont worry.
What about the child?
Shes there too. No need to fret, love.
Nora stood frozen, the word traitor echoing in her mind.
When will you tell her? the woman asked.
Soon. First I need to sort the paperwork on the house, so she cant claim anything.
Youre clever, the woman cooed, kissing Simons cheek.
Nora turned and fled toward the stairwell. The keys clanged betrayingly as she slipped on her shoes. Footsteps thundered from the lounge.
Nat? Simons voice sounded surprised.
She didnt look back. She hurled herself down the stairs, stumbling over a step, heart pounding.
On the street she stopped, gasping for breath, tears blurring her vision. Passersby glanced her way, but she cared not.
She didnt return home until nightfall. Dorothy met her at the door, worry etched on her face.
Whats happened?
Nora slipped inside, undressed in silence, and collapsed onto the bed. Emma peeked in, but Dorothy waved her away.
An hour later the door burst open. Dorothy almost slammed it shut.
Dont come in!
Dorothy, I need to speak to you, Simons voice crackled with tension.
She wont talk to you.
Ill ask myself.
He pushed past his motherinlaw and entered the flat. Nora lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
Nora, lets talk, he said, sitting on the edge.
Leave.
This isnt what you think.
Really? she asked, meeting his eyes. What is it, Simon? Enlighten me.
Its Irene shes my assistant. Shes helping with paperwork.
A assistant in a white coat, barefoot, with wine?
He stayed silent.
I heard everything, Nora continued. About the papers, about you trying to keep me from taking the house. Do you think Im a fool?
Nat…
Twentythree years, Simon. Twentythree years Ive been your wife, raised your daughter, kept the home. And you treat me like a guest you can throw out to make room for a lover?
She isnt a lover!
No? Then who?
Simon rose, pacing.
Its true. I met Rita half a year ago. She works in the next office. We got together. I didnt plan it, it just happened.
Just happened, Nora repeated. Twentythree years didnt just happen, and now it all collapses in a heartbeat.
You dont understand! I dont feel what I used to. Were like flatmates. When was the last time you asked about my work? My affairs?
You came home, ate, went to bed. What else?
Thats exactly it! You never tried. Rita she listens, she understands.
Its her youth and beauty that matters, Dorothy interjected from the doorway. And you, Simon Vasquez, are a common dogowner. Sorry, but thats the truth.
This isnt your concern!
How can it not be? Shes my daughter!
And my wife! I have the right to decide who lives with me!
You have that right, Nora said calmly. Just not in my house.
Simon smirked.
My house? The title is in my name. Im the sole owner.
Were married twentythree years. This is jointly acquired property.
Prove it. Do you have money for a solicitor? Time to go to court?
Nora was silent. She had no money; shed been out of work for a decade, devoted to home and Emma.
Exactly, Simon said, moving toward the door. Stop playing the victim. Youre the one who drove us here.
The door slammed. Nora sat on the bed, staring into emptiness. Dorothy wrapped an arm around her.
Dont cry, dear. He isnt worth it.
But Noras tears had already run dry; only a numb hollowness remained.
The following days hovered in a strange limbo. Nora fetched Emma from school, helped her mother, tried to read. Yet her thoughts kept circling back to one question: what now?
You need a solicitor, Olivia said when they met at a café.
With what money?
Well find it. Ill lend you what I can. You have a right to half the estate.
The house is in his name.
That doesnt matter. You were married when you bought it. Its joint property.
He says I cant afford a lawsuit.
But you have the truth. A decent solicitor will prove it.
Nora wanted to believe, but years with Simon had taught her not to argue, not to press. He always dictated where they lived, how money was spent, where holidays went.
Mum, Im fed up, Emma said one evening. I want to go back home.
We cant, Dorothy replied.
Why? This is our home! Why are we living here while that that woman is with dad?
Because he decided.
And you? Did you decide too?
Nora looked at her teenage daughter, who seemed wiser than many adults.
I dont know what to do.
Then Ill say it. We must go back and evict her. This is our house, yours, mine, even grandmas, in a way. We built it, we lived in it, and he just handed it over to some stranger!
Emma
No, Mum! I wont stay silent! All your life youve been silent. When he yelled at you over undercooked soup. When he forgot your birthday. When he came home drunk at three in the morning. You endured, endured, endured. And now look at the result!
How do you know all this?
Im not deaf, Mum. I heard you sobbing in the kitchen, thinking I was asleep.
Nora embraced her daughter, for the first time in days truly holding her close.
Im sorry, love.
No need to apologise. We must act.
The next morning Nora, for once in a week, applied a touch of makeup, slipped on her best coat and a pair of sensible heels. Dorothy watched approvingly.
Much better. Where are you off to?
To a solicitor.
Olivia gave her the address of a modest law office. Marina Patel welcomed her, listened attentively, and made notes.
This is a typical case, she said. A husband thinks ownership gives him free reign, but the law sees the marriage as joint ownership. You have a minor daughter, which strengthens your position.
I have no money for court fees.
The first consultation is free. If we win, hell cover costs.
Do you think well win?
I do. The house was bought during the marriage, so its marital property. The court will be on your side.
Nora left the office feeling a lightness she hadnt felt in years. Hope flickered.
But when she returned to Dorothys flat, hope collapsed. Emma stood at the doorway, tears streaming.
Dad called. He said if you dont give up the house hell strip us of parental rights.
What?
He said Im an unfit mother, that hell separate us.
Nora felt the ground give way.
Hes bluffing, Dorothy said. He wont dare.
But Nora knew Simon could do anything. He always got his way, no matter the cost.
That night she lay awake, turning the house, Emma, the future over in her mind. She realized the house wasnt worth losing her daughter.
In the morning she called Simon.
Ill keep the house.
He was silent for a moment.
Smart choice, he finally said. Ill arrange maintenance for Emma.
No need for your maintenance, Nora replied. Just leave us alone.
She hung up. Dorothy stared, baffled.
What have you done?
Ive chosen. Between the house and my child.
But thats your right!
My right is to protect Emma, not to be dragged through courts while he drags me through mud.
Dorothy sighed. Perhaps youre right. Its a pity, though. So much years in that house.
It was a pity, indeed, but Nora no longer had the luxury of regret. At fortyfive,Years later she stood at the window of her modest shop, watching Emma laugh with friends across the street, and knew she had finally reclaimed both her dignity and her future.
