Can my new wife and I stay at the cottage? he asked, my ex. I said yes. Then I called the police and filed a break-in report.
Found out, have you? The voice on the phone was sickeningly familiar. Soft, wheedlingthe same one that once swore eternal love.
I stayed silent, tracing frost patterns on the windowpane. A call from my ex-husband, David, after two years of near-silence, could only mean trouble. It always preceded a request.
Annie, dont ignore me. Ive got a situation.
Im listening, I replied flatly, my voice cracking like a brittle twig.
He hesitated, testing the watershis usual tactic before dropping the bomb.
I know it sounds odd but me and Emma are in a tight spot. Weve moved out of our flat, cant find a new one.
I let him talk, each word a pebble tossed into the still lake of my composure.
Any chance youd let us stay at the cottage? Just a couple of months while we sort things out. Well be quietyou wont even know were there.
*Can my new wife and I stay at the cottage?* So casual, as if he were asking to pass the salt. As if thered been no betrayals, no lies, no walking out while I picked up the pieces alone.
A memory flashedtwenty years ago, building that cottage. David, young and sunburnt, hammer in hand, laughing: *This is our fortress, Annie! No matter what, well always have this place. Our safe haven.*
How poisonous those words tasted now. *Our safe haven.* Hed brought another woman into it. And now he wanted to make her its mistress.
David, have you lost your mind? I asked, fighting to keep my voice steady.
Annie, please. Weve got nowhere else. You know Emmashes pregnant. We cant sleep on the street.
Hed hit the sorest spot. Children. The one thing we never had. And for them? Easy. Effortless.
I closed my eyes. Two beasts warred inside meone screaming every ugly truth at him, slamming the phone down, never looking back. The other whispering: *This is your chance. Not to forgive. To balance the scales.*
We vowed to support each other, no matter what, he pleaded, pressing on my sense of duty, on the *good girl* Id been for him all those years.
Another memory: our wedding. Young and foolish, gazing into my eyes: *Ill never betray you.* Fifteen years later, packing his bags: *Sorry, it just happened. Feelings fade.*
Betrayed. Faded. Now begging for help.
A cold, crystalline clarity settled in my mind. The plan formed instantly. Brutal. Perfect.
Fine, I said calmly, surprising even myself. You can stay.
Relief hummed through the line. He babbled thanks, something about always knowing Id come through. Id stopped listening.
The keys where its always been. Under the stone by the porch.
Cheers, Annie! Youre a lifesaver!
I hung up. The trap was set. Now, to wait for the beast to grow careless.
Two days passed, every phone buzz sending jolts through me. I knew hed call againneeding reassurance I was still on the hook.
The call came Saturday morning.
All settled in, brilliant here! David chirped, his tone no longer begging but proprietorial.
Needs workcobwebs, overgrown garden. No worries, me and Em will sort it.
My fingers whitened on the countertop. *Well sort it.* In *my* house.
I didnt ask you to *sort* anything, I enunciated. I allowed you to stay.
Oh, come off it. Were making improvements! Emma says the airs perfect for the baby. Shes already picked a spot for flowerbedsright under the bedroom window.
*Our* bedroom. Where the wallpaper still bore scratches from the cat.
Dont touch my roses, was all I said.
Who wants those thorns? he scoffed. Emma loves peonies. Listenanother thing. The attics full of your junk. Boxes, old clothes. Weve nowhere to store them. Mind if I chuck em in the shed?
A flashback: our first flat. David updating the bathroom, ripping out tiles Mum and I spent weeks choosing. *Theyre dated, Annie. Ill make it modern.* Crooked, cheap, and budget-breakinghis initiatives always cost me too much.
Dont touch my things, David.
Why cling to tat? He bristled. We need space! Cant you be reasonable? Emmas stressedbad for the baby!
A whisper, then Emmas saccharine voice: *Davie, dont argue. Annie, darling, we mean no harm. Just need room for the crib, pram*
A tag-team act. Him pressuring, her softening. Expecting me to melt and surrender.
I said no. Dont plant in my garden. Be grateful youre there at all.
Grateful?! he exploded. Fifteen years I wasted on you! And you begrudge old rags?! FineIm changing the shed lock. Lost the key. Fetch your boxes when we leave.
The dial tone buzzed.
He wasnt just living in my home. He was erasing me. And the new lock? A declaration of war.
Very well. War it would be.
I waited a week. Worked, met friends, played normal. Beneath it, ice formeda plan, precise and pitiless.
Next Saturday, I drove to the cottage unannounced, parking round the bend and creeping up like a thief.
First sight: my rose bushesplanted by Mumuprooted, dumped by the fence like corpses. In their place, fresh soil and pale peony shoots.
Something in me snapped. This wasnt just rudeness. It was desecration.
I circled the house. New wicker furniture on the patio. Frilly curtains in the windows. Settling in. Sinking roots.
The shed door stood ajar*his* new lock. Inside, chaos.
My boxes, ripped open. Mums letters, the ribbon now muddy. My diaries, pages torn. And atop the wreckagemy wedding dress. Once white, now soiled, a beer bottle beside it.
They hadnt just cleared space. Theyd relished destroying what mattered to me.
Enough.
The *good girl* Annie died in that shed, staring at her trampled past. In her place, something calm. Icy. Unforgiving.
No shouting. No storming in. Just a silent walk back to the car, hands steady on the wheel, mind crystal-clear.
First stop: the hardware shop. The heaviest padlock and chain I could find.
By 7 a.m., Id wrapped the gate in steel links, snapped the lock shut, and parked opposite, watching.
At ten, David ambled out, stretching. Tugged the gate. Tugged harder. Froze.
Emma scurried out, shrieking loud enough to hear through closed windows.
My phone rang.
What the hell?! David roared. Youve locked us in!
Securing my property, I replied, glacial. Since locks mean nothing to you.
Which shed?! Youre mental! Emmas pregnantwhat if she needs an ambulance? Open this now!
An ambulance? Of course. Im calling the police. Filing for trespass, property damage, vandalism. Im sure theyve tools to open gates.
Silence. Just Emmas hiccuping sobs.
Trespass?! You let us in!
Temporarily. You acted like owners. Dug up my roses, trashed the shed, destroyed my things. You crossed a line, David.
Its just old junk! he spat. Youd send us to jail over tat?
Not junk. My memories. What you betrayed, then tried to erase.
I hung up, dialed 999. Calmly gave my address: *Intruders on private property. Refusing to leave.*
The police arrived swiftly. I handed them the deed, silent as David and Emma ranted over the fence.
They claim you permitted this, an officer said.
I let my ex stay temporarily. Then he broke locks, destroyed my belongings. I asked them to leavethey refused. I secured the gate while calling you. Look what they did to the garden.
An officer inspected the fence. David ranted; Emma clutched her belly theatrically.
Pack your things. Youve thirty minutes, the sergeant said.
The sight of them hauling suitcases, Emma shooting venomous glances, David staring at his shoes
