Stay with a Friend, My Aunt from Salisbury is Visiting for a Month,” My Husband Said, as He Pushed My Suitcase Out the Door.

“Stay with a friend; my aunt from Norwich is staying with us for a month,” Mark said, shoving my suitcase out the door.

“Mrs. Harper! You’ve parked in my spot again! I asked you yesterday not to take it!”

“Mrs. Clarke, what spot? There are no assigned spaces here! I park wherever I like!”

“That’s not true! I’ve lived here thirty years! That spot has always been mine!”

“Well, that doesn’t give you any right to own it!”

Emily stood at the landing, bags of groceries weighing down her arms, while the two neighbours argued over a parking place. She wanted to slip past, but the women blocked the doorway, waving their arms and raising their voices.

“Excuse me, could I get through?” Emily asked quietly.

Reluctantly, the neighbours stepped aside, still throwing angry looks at each other. Emily squeezed between them, pushing the building door with her shoulder. The bags were so heavy her fingers went numb. She should have taken a trolley, but she always forgot until she reached home.

She climbed the stairs to the fourth floor the lift was broken, as usual. Standing in front of her flat, she shifted the bags onto one arm, fumbled in her coat pocket for the keys and opened the door, pausing when she saw it.

Her suitcase was there, the same blue travel case she took on holidays, closed and with the handle pulled up as if ready to be carried away.

“Mark?” Emily called as she stepped inside. “Are you home?”

“Yes, in the kitchen,” came the reply.

She dropped the bags, shrugged off her coat and walked into the kitchen. Mark sat at the table, coffee in hand, scrolling on his phone.

“Hi,” he said without looking up.

“Hi, Mark, why is the suitcase in the hallway?” she asked.

Mark finally put his phone down and looked at her.

“Right, love, there’s something I need to tell you. Remember my aunt Gladys from Norwich?”

Emily frowned, trying to picture the frail woman shed only met a couple of times at family gatherings.

“Sort of.”

“Well, she’s coming to London for a month. She needs an operation and then rehab, so I invited her to stay with us.”

Emily lowered herself onto a chair.

“You invited her here? For a month?”

“Yeah, what’s the problem? She’s family.”

“Mark, we only have a onebed flat. Where will she live?”

Mark finished his coffee and set the mug down.

“That’s the pointspace is tight. I was thinking maybe you could stay with a friend for a while? Helen, for example? She lives alone in a tworoom flat. There’s plenty of room. Aunt Gladys would stay for a month and then leave, and you could come back.”

Emily stared at her husband, unable to believe what she was hearing.

“What?”

“Just stay with Helen. She has space. Aunt Gladys will be here for a month, then she’ll go. And you can return.”

“Mark, you want me to move out of my own flat?”

“Not move out, just stay somewhere else temporarily. It’s Aunt Gladysshe needs home care after her surgery, she can’t stay in a hospital.”

“Who’s going to look after her?”

“Me, and she can help herself as much as she can.”

Emily paced the kitchen, her head spinning. It felt absurdher husband was trying to push her out of their home for a distant relative.

“This is my flat. I live here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Mark frowned.

“Emily, don’t be stubborn. It’s only temporaryjust a month!”

“A month is a long time! Why should I have to go? Let Aunt Gladys rent a place or stay in a hotel!”

“She doesn’t have the money for a hotel! Emily, are you being greedy? She’s family!”

“I’m not greedy! I just don’t understand why I have to sacrifice my comfort!”

Mark snapped up, snatching the keys from the table.

“Emily, it’s decided. Aunt Gladys arrives this evening. I’ve packed the suitcase, put the things in. Go to Helen’s. I’ve already called her and she’s agreed.”

“You called Helen without telling me?”

“Yes, so we don’t waste time. That’s that, no drama. Pack up.”

He left the kitchen. Emily stood, feeling a storm inside. She moved to the hallway; Mark was already pulling on his coat.

“Mark, wait. We need to discuss this.”

“There’s nothing to discuss. It’s settled. Here’s your suitcase and some cash for a taxi.”

He thrust a few £20 notes into her hand. Emily stared at the money, the suitcase, her husband. Was this really happening? Was she truly being driven out of her own home?

“I’m not going.”

“You will. Don’t make it hard. It’s only for a month. You’ll be back.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

Mark sighed, rubbing his face.

“Emily, why are you acting like a child? Aunt Gladys is old and ill. She needs help. And you’re being petulant!”

“I’m not being petulant! I’m defending my right to live in my own flat!”

“Rights, rights always about your rights! What about family? About helping relatives?”

Tears welled up. She turned away so he couldn’t see.

“Fine. I’ll go.”

She grabbed the suitcase, opened the door, and Mark walked her to the threshold.

“Good girl. I’ll call you when Aunt Gladys leaves.”

Emily stepped onto the landing. The door slammed behind her. She stood there, suitcase in hand, tears streaming down her cheeks onto the floor.

She fished out her phone and dialed Helen.

“Emily, hi! Mark called, said you’d be coming over. I’m waiting!”

“Helen, are you sure you dont mind?”

“Of course not! There’s plenty of space. Come!”

She hailed a black cab, rode down to Helen’s flat, and watched the city blur past her tearstreaked face.

Helen opened the door and hugged her.

“Emily, what happened? Mark said Aunt Gladys is staying and youd be living here temporarily, but you look like you’ve been crying!”

“He kicked me out. Just kicked me out of our home.”

“How?”

Emily told her everything. Helen shook her head.

“Your Mark, right? That’s ridiculousjust kicking you out for a aunt?”

“Exactly. No discussion, just ‘it’s decided.'”

Helen led her to the sofa and sat her down.

“Are you sure it’s about the aunt? Could there be something else?”

“There’s nothing else. He just wants the flat.”

Emily thought about the past monthsMark had become distant, glued to his phone, coming home late, barely speaking.

“Do you think he might have… someone else?”

Helen frowned.

“Like a lover?”

“I don’t know. Hes been oddly quiet.”

“Maybe. But if he’s lying, that’s his problem.”

Emily lay on the sofa, restless. She thought of the flat, of the suitcase, of the life shed built.

The next morning she called Mark.

“Mark, how’s Aunt Gladys? She arrived?”

“Yes, all good. You?”

“I’m fine. Could I swing by to collect a few things?”

“Emily, no. Aunt Gladys is resting. I dont want to disturb her.”

“But I just need to grab a few items”

“Tell you whatIll bring them later. Just leave it.”

Emily hung up, feeling the weight of his refusal.

She told Helen, “He doesn’t want me back.”

Helen suggested, “Maybe you should go in when he’s at work. You have a spare key, right?”

“I do.”

“Then go today. See what’s really happening.”

Emily hesitated, but curiosity won. While Mark was at work, she used her key, walked up to the fourth floor, and opened the door to their flat.

It was quiet. She walked down the hallway, peeked into the bedroom the bed was made, a nightstand held some pills, everything seemed normal.

In the kitchen she found a note on the table. She read it:

“Mark, I’ve gone to the hospital for tests. I’ll be back this evening. Don’t worry. Aunt Gladys”

Relief washed over her. Perhaps Helen was right; there was no lover, just a sick aunt.

She turned to leave when the landline rang. The caller ID displayed “Mother.”

Emily answered.

“Emily?”

“Hello, this is Emily…”

“Mark told me you’d gone away. Whats happening? How is Aunt Gladys?”

“Shes at the hospital for a test. Mark said tomorrow they’d do the operation.”

Emily froze. “Tomorrow? But you said shed stay a month”

“Month? No, Mark told me it would be a week at mostsurgery, a few days in hospital, then back to Norwich.”

Emily stared, heart pounding. Mark had said a month; now her motherinlaw said a week. Hed been lying.

She opened the wardrobe; her clothes were still there, untouched. In a drawer she found a small notebook. On the first page, in Marks handwriting, was the word “Plan.”

Below it, a list:

1. Convince Emily to leave.
2. Meet with estate agent.
3. Show flat to potential buyers.
4. Complete paperwork.
5. Collect money.
6. Move in with Sophie.

Emily read it over and over, disbelief turning to anger. He was selling the flat and moving in with another womanSophie, a name she didnt recognize.

She snapped a photo of the page, tucked the notebook back, and fled the flat, returning to Helen in a panic.

“Helen, you were right. He has someone else,” she blurted, showing the picture.

Helen read it, swore, and said, “That scoundrel! He’s trying to sell the flatyour flat!”

“It’s in his name,” Emily whispered. “When we bought it, everything was put in his name because I was on maternity leave.”

“What now?” Helen asked.

Emily sank onto the sofa, hugging her knees. “I dont know. He deceived me, kicked me out to sell the place and go to Sophie.”

Helen suggested calling him, but Emily said, “Not now. I need to think.”

She spent the evening turning the situation over in her mind. Mark never delivered the things he promised, always citing a busy schedule. She kept quiet.

The next day she visited her motherinlaw, Mrs. Thompson, who met her with surprise.

“Emily? Come in. Whats wrong?”

“Mrs. Thompson, do you know that Mark wants to sell the flat?” Emily asked.

Her mothers face went pale.

“How did you find out?”

“Is it true?”

Mrs. Thompson sighed, went to the kitchen table, and said, “Mark told me he wants to sell, move to a smaller place, maybe a studio, so we could have a bit of money for a car.”

Emily pressed, “He wants to move in with another woman.”

Mrs. Thompson froze. “What?”

Emily showed her the photo of the notebook. Mrs. Thompson read, her expression hardening.

“He isnt the man I thought he was,” she said finally.

Emily left, feeling a mix of betrayal and relief that the truth was out.

She called Mark, demanding a meeting.

“Im busy,” he replied.

“Make time. This is important.”

That evening he arrived at a café near Helens flat. They sat down with coffee.

“Whats this about?” Mark asked.

Emily slung the phone on the table, opened the photo and placed it before him.

“Explain,” she said.

Mark stared at the list, his face turning ashen.

“Where did you get that?” he asked.

“It doesnt matter. Tell me what it means.”

He was silent for a moment, then sighed.

“Emily, Ive been meaning to tell you I met someone else. Her name is Sophie. Weve been together for six months. I love her.”

The words hit her like a slap.

“For six months?” he said, remorseful. “Im sorry. I didnt want to hurt you, but it happened.”

“And you want to sell the flat we bought together?” she asked.

“The flat is in my name, so legally I can,” he said. “I can give you money, you could rent somewhere, or you could go back to your parents.”

Emily stood, heart pounding.

“You know what, Mark? Do what you want. Sell the flat, move in with Sophie. Just know youve lost meforever.”

She walked out of the café without looking back. Mark stayed, staring at his untouched coffee.

Back at Helens, Emily poured out the whole conversation. Helen wrapped her arms around her, rubbing her back as she wept.

“Emily, you did the right thing not to let yourself be humiliated. You dont need a man like that.”

“But I have nowhere to go. Hell sell the flat, give me nothing. Ill be on the street.”

“Your parents have a onebed flat. No room.”

“Then Ill stay here. Ill make do.”

Emily spent the next month living with Helen. Mark sold the flat and moved in with Sophie. Emily filed for divorce and sued for a share of the property, but the court ruled the flat was legally his, so she received only a small allowance.

She found a job, saved enough to rent a tiny room in a shared house. It wasnt luxurious, but it was hers. She started yoga, met new friends, and slowly let the hurt fade, leaving only a gentle ache.

One afternoon her motherinlaw called.

“Emily, how are you?”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“Just so you know, Mark and Sophie split. She left him when the money ran out.”

Emily listened silently.

“Hes now renting a room, complaining about being alone. He asked about you. Maybe you could reconcile?”

“No, I dont want to go back to someone who betrayed me.”

“He’s sorry, though.”

“Thats his problem. Ive started a new life and Im happy with it.”

She hung up, looked out at the grey city streets, at the people hurrying by. It wasnt easyshe lived in a modest flat, earned a modest wage, and often felt alone. But the life she was building was honest, free of lies and deceit.

And that, she realized, was worth far more than any house or any husband who didnt value her. The real security lay in selfrespect and independence, not in walls or promises.