Take My Husband—He’s Yours!” Said the Wife with a Smile to the Strange Woman at Her Door.

**Diary Entry 12th October**

Bloody hell, what a day. I was just settling in with a cuppa when the doorbell rang.

“Hold on, Emily! Someones at the door. Ill call you back,” I told my childhood mate, hanging up mid-laugh. Shed been regaling me with tales of her mother-in-laws disastrous birthday do, and I was in stitcheslike watching a bad telly show.

I peered through the peephole, expecting Mrs. Thompson from next door. But nosome strange woman stood there, looking like shed wandered out of a soap opera.

Not one for chit-chat with strangers, I ignored it. These days, you never know whos after your wallet or worse. I went back to my tea, but the bell rang againpersistent, this one.

Fine. Another look. She seemed harmless enough, just odd.

“Worst case, I tell her to sod off,” I muttered. Maybe she was lost or peddling rubbish.

I yanked the door open. The woman fluffed her hair nervously.

“Hello! You must be Charlotte?” she chirped, fiddling with her scarf. “Silly questionof course you are.”

*Right. Scammers these days even know your name.*

“Who are you, and what dyou want? I didnt invite you, so spit it out or clear off,” I snapped.

“Is Oliver home?”

That caught me off guard. *She knows my husbands name?*

“Youre here for Oliver?” I asked, though I meant to say something far ruder.

“No, I came to speak with you. But if hes here, itll be trickier,” she said, far too casually.

“Trickier? Whats this about?”

“Perhaps we should talk inside. Bit awkward on the landing,” she pressed.

“Not a chance. Say your piece and go.”

“Really? You want me to share *intimate* details about Oliver and me right here?” She smirked.

“*What* relationship?” I nearly shouted.

“Charlotte, love, everything alright?” Mrs. Wilkins, our nosy neighbour, popped out of the lift.

“Fine, thanks! Lovely weather, isnt it?” I deflected.

“Looks like rain,” she said, lingering.

Grudgingly, I waved the woman in.

Once inside, she eyed the place like a estate agent.

“Five minutes. Talk,” I blocked her path. “This isnt a bloody tour.”

“Im Jessica,” she said, shedding her coat. “Oliver and I are in love.”

“Oh, how original,” I scoffed.

“People fall in loveit happens. Youre not the first wife hes outgrown,” she shot back.

“And youre sure he doesnt love me anymore?”

“Absolutely. Otherwise, I wouldnt be here.”

“Darling, the problem is Oliver doesnt love *anyone*. Hes hopeless at it. So youre barking up the wrong tree,” I said calmly.

Jessica opened her mouthjust as the door swung open. Oliver walked in, baffled.

“Jessica? What are you doing here? Work emergency?”

“No, shes here for *you*,” I said, enjoying myself.

“For me? Did something happen at the office?”

“No, love. Shes come to take you off my hands. Permanently.”

Jessica flushed, scrambling for her coat.

“Leaving so soon? Dont you want him? Honestly, Id be *delighted* to hand him over,” I teased.

She bolted without another word.

“What the hell was that about?” Oliver looked utterly lost.

“You tell me! Whys some woman demanding a divorce and claiming youre moving in with her?”

“Are you serious?” He looked genuinely stunned. “Ive no idea whats got into her. Shes been odd at work, but I never encouraged it. Bloody hell, Charlotte, you know I wouldnt.”

“Good. Because you know meI dont tolerate nonsense.” I shook my head. “Women these daysll try anything to fix their messes.”

Oliver trudged off to the kitchen, and I stood there, chuckling. The whole thing was so badly orchestrated, it was almost pathetic.

Lesson learned: some people will stir the pot, but a solid marriage doesnt spill.