‘Diana Will Be Living Here Now,’ Declared Her Husband on His Return from Holiday

This flat will now be Eleanors home, Andrew announced as he stepped through the door, fresh from his break.

It was a day that felt different from all the others.

Andrew had been away for two weeks, off on a seaside holiday in Brighton, to get away from everything, he had said. From work, from the city, perhaps even from Mary herself. She hadnt taken offense; a tired man needed rest.

While he was gone Mary stayed home, scrubbing windows, sorting cupboards, even sweeping the balcony, trying to make the flat feel warm and inviting for his return.

The front door slammed shut.

Andrew? Mary called from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.

He stood in the hall, suntanned and relaxed, a suitcase in one hand and a bag of trinkets in the other, a smile on his face that didnt quite reach his eyes.

Hey, he said, slipping off his shoes.

How was the trip? Mary asked, stepping closer, ready to hug him, but he was already moving past her toward the living room.

Brilliant, he replied from the doorway. Sea, sunshine. Met some interesting people.

Mary turned back to the stove, turned off the burner, and called him to dinner.

He sat down at the table, ate in silence, never looking up.

Whats wrong with you? Mary asked cautiously. Did something happen?

Andrew set his fork down, looked at her, and said:

Mary, Eleanor will be living here now.

Mary froze.

What?

Eleanor. I met her in Brighton. Shes in a difficult spot, no roof over her head. I invited her to stay with usfor a while.

You Marys voice cracked. You invited a stranger into our flat?

She isnt a stranger, Andrew said calmly. We became friends. Shes a good person. Youll see when you meet her.

Im supposed to understand? Mary stared at him, bewildered.

Its only temporary, Mary. A couple of weeks, at most a month, until she finds work and a place of her own.

Mary looked at the man she had lived with for seven years, the man who had promised to stand by her, and heard him say he would bring another woman into their home. She was expected to understand.

When will she arrive? Mary asked softly.

Tomorrow morning, Andrew replied.

Mary rose from the table, cleared the dishes, washed the plates, her hands trembling. Inside her chest a cold, dark wave rose.

Eleanor arrived at ten oclock that morning.

Two suitcases and a huge overtheshoulder bag. She was strikingtanned skin, glossy hair cut to her shoulders, a dazzling smile. Jeans clung to her figure, a gold chain glinting at her neck.

Mary stood in the hallway, watching Andrew help their guest slip off her coat, handling her belongings with a tenderness that made Marys stomach churn.

Come in, make yourself at home, Andrew said. Mary, this is Eleanor.

Hello, Eleanor said, offering a firm handshake. Thank you for letting me stay. I wont be long, I promise.

Mary gave a silent nod. No one had asked her.

The rooms just down the hall, Andrew opened the door to a small bedroom off the living room. The sofa folds out, the beddings fresh. If you need anything, just let us know.

Everythings perfect! Eleanor said, stepping inside, scanning the space. Cozy, isnt it? Can I hang a picture later? For a bit of atmosphere?

Mary felt something tighten inside her.

Of course, Andrew said, smiling.

And then the real drama began.

Eleanor settled in as if shed always lived there.

From the first day she was up before Mary, slipping into the kitchen in short shorts and a tank top, pouring a cup of tea, and sitting opposite Andrew at the table. They chatted, laughed, sharing private jokes.

When Mary entered, the conversation died.

Good morning, Eleanor chirped. Mind if I use your kettle? Your tea is divine!

Mary gave a mute nod and left for work.

She returned in the evening to find Eleanor on the sofa, legs draped over the cushions, watching television.

Mary, could you wash this sweater for me? Eleanor asked.

The washing machines over there, Mary replied evenly. You can do it yourself.

Eleanors smile cooled for a beat, then she said, Fine, sorry.

The intrusion grew. Eleanor began cooking, spreading her groceries across every shelf, taking over the pots and the stove.

Andrew, try this! she called, brandishing a plate of pasta. Its just like in Italy!

Mary lingered in the doorway, watching Andrew praise the food, never looking at her.

Mary, would you like some? Eleanor offered, handing her a spoon.

No, thank you, Mary said, retreating to the bedroom.

Weeks slipped by, and gossip floated through the building. Mrs. Patel, the neighbour on the landing, stopped Mary in the hall.

Whos this young guest youve got? Your husband brought her back from his holiday? she asked, eyeing Mary sharply.

Its temporary, Mary swallowed. A friend.

Mrs. Patel narrowed her eyes. Friends come in all shapes, dear.

Mary felt the walls close in, as if everyone were whispering while pretending not to.

At work a colleague asked, Hows home? with a tone that made her want to crawl under the floorboards.

At home Andrew spent more and more time with Eleanorwatching films together, staying up late in the kitchen, talking about everything and nothing.

Mary tried to speak.

Andrew, isnt it enough? She said it was temporary. Its been three weeks.

Give her more time, Andrew said. Shes looking for a job, a flat. We cant just throw her out onto the street.

And what about me? Mary snapped. This is my home! I never gave you permission!

Youre being jealous, Andrew snapped back. Eleanors just a friend. Youre making it complicated.

Andrew couldnt see the problem, or refused to.

One night Mary came home early, the house quiet. She slipped into the kitchen and found Andrew and Eleanor at the window, standing closetoo close. They whispered, laughing. Andrew placed a hand on Eleanors shoulder.

Mary froze.

Whats happening? she demanded.

They turned.

Oh, Mary! Andrew pulled his hand away, startled. Youre up early.

Whats happening? Mary repeated, her voice shaking.

Nothing, Andrew muttered, irritated. We were just talking.

Eleanor looked down, silent.

Mary fled to the bedroom, the tension cracking inside her.

She couldnt take it any longer.

She lay awake all night, staring at the ceiling, hearing the faint clatter of the bathroom, the soft footfalls as Andrew retreated to the bedroom, lying beside her without a touch, simply turning onto his side, away from her.

Morning brought a decision.

Andrew, she said as he brewed coffee in the kitchen. We need to talk. All three of us.

He lifted his eyes. About what?

Everything. Tonight. And tell Eleanor.

Mary

Dont argue. Just do it.

That evening they all sat at the table. Mary set the plates.

Thank you for inviting me, Eleanor said, an uncertain smile playing on her lips. I didnt expect this.

I didnt expect much either, Mary cut in. But now we need honesty.

She looked at Andrew, then at Eleanor.

Im going to ask one question. Directly. And I expect a straight answer.

Mary, whats this about? Andrew began.

Silence, Marys voice was calm but steel. Eleanor, what are you here as? A lodger, a family member, or his second wife?

The room fell dead quiet. Eleanors face went pale. Andrews glass froze in his hand.

I

Answer honestly, Mary insisted. Im tired of pretending. Im tired of hearing whispers, of you cooking his breakfast, using my things, acting like you own this place.

Mary, calm down, Andrew tried to intervene.

No! Mary slammed her hand on the table. The glasses rang. Ive endured this for a month!

Eleanor lowered her eyes.

I didnt want to

What didnt you want? Mary leaned forward, fury blazing. To live here? To take my place?

Im not taking your place.

You are!

Eleanor lifted her head, met Marys gaze, and said, Fine. You want the truth? Here it is. Andrew and I have been an affair for months, since Brighton. He didnt just invite me to stayhe asked me to come because he loves me.

The words hung thick in the air.

Mary felt everything crack inside her.

She turned to Andrew. Is it true?

He stared at the table, silent, then exhaled. Yes, he said at last. Its true.

Mary sank back in her chair, hands trembling. Her heart hammered as if it might burst.

So youve been lying to me all this time? Calling her just a friend? Saying I was making it complicated?

I never meant to hurt you.

You never meant to hurt me? You brought your lover into our home! Forced me to share a roof with her! And you claim you didnt want to hurt me?

Mary, Im sorry.

Shut up, she snapped, standing. Just shut up.

Eleanor also rose. Mary, I understand how hard this is for you.

You understand nothing! Mary shrieked. You came into my flat! Slept in my bedroom! Ate from my kitchen! All while playing the victim!

She didnt finish the sentence, turned and fled to the bedroom.

Andrew followed. Mary, lets talk calmly.

Talk? Mary ripped open the wardrobe, pulling out her belongings. Now well talk. Pack your things. And hers too. Get out. Both of you. Right now.

You cant

I can! She flung his shirt onto the floor. This is my flat! I bought it! I decide who lives here!

No

No buts! Mary glared, hatred and pain sharp in her eyes. You betrayed me. Now leave.

Andrew stood, helpless, as she watched him gather his suitcase. Eleanor lingered in the doorway, speechless.

Half an hour later they were gone, suitcases in hand, the picture Eleanor never managed to hang left behind.

The first week Mary barely left the flat. She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, crying until the tears ran dry, then simply existing in a hollow that made breathing a chore.

Andrew sent texts, called, but she ignored them. Eleanor tried to apologise, but Mary blocked her number.

One morning she rose, looked at herself in the mirrorpale, dark circles under her eyes, hair in disarrayand thought, Enough.

Enough of this pain. Enough of handing over control to those whod hurt her.

She took a hot shower, changed, brewed a fresh pot of tea, flung the curtains open and let the crisp London air fill the room.

A month later divorce papers arrived. Mary signed them without a flicker of regret. The flat remained hersshed bought it before marriage, and Andrew had no claim.

He begged for a meeting, for a conversation. Mary refused.

We have nothing to discuss, she wrote. You made your choice. Live with it.

Later she learned Andrew and Eleanor had moved in together elsewhere, but the partnership crumbled after six months. Eleanor left for another city, and Andrew was left alone.

Mary, however, learned to live for herself. She travelled, finally feeling that life belonged to her.

Was she scared to be alone? Yes. But she never looked back.