The Unexpected Guest

5November2025

Dear Diary,

Ive just got home after a relentless day of backtoback meetings at the office in Canary Wharf. The grind left me drained, so I decided to ditch the car and take the tube not the brightest idea, but I fancied a stroll. By the time I shuffled up the stairs of my flat in Manchesters Salford Crescent, I was ready for a proper night in. I figured Id grab a cab tomorrow morning, as my Volvo is still parked outside the office.

I fumbled for the key, slipped it into the lock, turned it a few times, and nothing. The door stayed stubbornly shut. I tugged the handle, gave it a good yank, and it refused to budge. Blimey! I muttered, hanging there like a sack of potatoes. Did I just get the wrong floor?

I counted the flights again: first, second third. Yes, this is my floor. Flat17. It cant be my imagination. Surely someones locked the door from the inside. My mind leapt to my husband, Edward.

Edward? You there? I called, pressing my ear to the door. No answer. He should be at work until late. No plans for an early return. A knot of worry formed had something happened to him? I brushed it aside; Edward never changes his schedule without a text.

I tried the knob again, louder this time. Come on, open up! I barked, and then started knocking. The knocks grew louder, more insistent. From the other side, I could hear faint shuffling, as if someone was pacing the flat, but the door wouldnt move.

Enough of this! I shouted. Whos in there? Im calling the police! I suspect a burglar! The thought of thieves in my hallway made my skin crawl.

Just as I was about to dial 999, the door swung wide.

Standing there was a tiny figure, almost like an imp, with oversized animestyle eyes, snowwhite hair down to her waist, and a pout that could have been plucked from a popsong lyric. She looked as delicate as a porcelain doll, and for a heartbeat I was speechless.

She snapped, Woman, stop trying to break down someone elses door, you dont live here any more. Pack up your bags, your hands are full of nothing, and get out of here quick.

What? I gasped.

Move it, then! she retorted.

At work Ive always kept a rule: stay calm, no matter who youre dealing with. Its served me well with colleagues, bosses, and clients. But this was a whole different kettle of fish. I lunged, grabbed her by the hair, and despite her shrieks dragged her inside.

What the hell are you doing? Let me go! Im pregnant! she wailed, trying to break free.

I glanced around. A halfopened suitcase lay halfdisassembled at the end of the hallway, near the lounge. I released her, and she lunged with a hefty bronze candlestick. I dodged just in time.

Sit down! I barked, yanking her back onto a kitchen chair. Now that we know whos boss, youll answer my questions. Speak only when I tell you to. Youre in my house, and if I need the police, youll be charged with illegal entry.

She sputtered, Im Blythe! And Ill be Edwards wife! Her voice cracked, and I could already tell she was fabricating.

I raised an eyebrow. Edward isnt he already my husband? Did you mix something up?

She snapped back, Im not mixing anything up! He loves me. Hes filing for divorce from you. He says you dont understand him! Im carrying his child, and well be moving into this flat, so you better leave!

I leaned against the doorframe, watching the absurd drama unfold. Just yesterday everything seemed fine with Edward. Now heres a woman with a suitcase, a claim of pregnancy, and threats of taking my home.

So, I said dryly, Edward is that right? Youve got the right man?

She fidgeted, He said it was a mistake! He wants someone who gets his soul! She shouted, Im the one wholl give him a child! Her words made my head throb.

Your soul thingdidnt he swear his love to me nine years ago? I asked, arching a brow. How long have you known each other?

Six months, she replied, trying to sound composed. He writes me poems, takes me to restaurants. No ones ever treated me like that before!

I smirked. Poems and restaurants, huh? That sounds more like your Edward than mine. Hes not exactly a poetmore of a practical guy who once compared a spreadsheet to a love letter. Still, maybe hes got a hidden romantic side.

Honestly, I continued, Im not going to ruin your happiness, but half the assets are mine. I dont know what Edward told you, but he didnt hand you keys to our flat. He never does that.

She looked bewildered. He gave them to me! she insisted.

The more I thought about it, the less it made sense. Edward is no fool; hed never give a stranger a set of keys. Hed simply discuss any issues, then file for divorce if needed. So why would he let Blythe into our home?

Before I could press further, the lock clicked and Edward stepped in, looking surprised to see me in the hallway.

Harry? Why are you up so early? he asked, rubbing his eyes.

Thought Id surprise you with dinner. I got home early, bought groceries, and we have guests, I replied, forcing a smile.

He frowned, then spotted Blythe on the chair, hair askew, eyes glinting with mischief.

Whos that? he asked cautiously.

Your new wife and mother of your future child, darling, I sang sweetly, watching his reaction.

His face turned a shade of crimson that would rival a London bus. What nonsense is this? Ive never seen this woman before.

I circled him, I expected denial or a typical it was a mistake, I love only you, but this is impressively original, love.

He opened his mouth, but I cut him off. Its shameful, Edward, not admitting to a pregnant lover. How will you look your sonor daughterin the eye? And why didnt you tell her the flat is shared? Trying to make an impression, were you?

Blythe tried to interject, I dont even know I met a man in a bar who called himself Edward. We dated, went to restaurants, he drove me home in his car. Then he lost interest, so I took extreme measures.

So you barged into what you thought was your fiancés home, hoping to claim it? I asked.

Yes, she whispered.

And you thought taking our flat would force him to marry you? I pressed.

Yes, I hoped hed have no choice but to split with you, she said, eyes flicking between us.

I sighed, Enough. Im calling the police. Either this is a twisted bit of fate or you both are master liars.

Silence fell. Then I turned to Edward, Whats your story, love?

He swallowed, I gave a spare set of keys to my brother Freddie. He needed the car for a week while were off to Greece. He also asked for a flat key I didnt think

So thats why everything felt off when we got back, I muttered, horrified. You let a stranger into our home?

He just asked, Edward muttered, looking guilty.

Its brilliant, I said, He asked, you gave. He stole our identity, brought this woman in, and now claims a child. Well sort this out. Call Freddie right now.

Freddie, a bulky bloke with a northern accent, arrived after an hour, eyes widening at the sight of Blythe.

Good afternoon, he said, trying to smile.

Good afternoon, I snapped, You pretended to be Edward and brought this girl into our flat?

He stammered, I was just having a laugh, a bit of a thrill. I didnt think He gulped, I didnt know she was pregnant.

Im joking now, I said coldly, Shes pregnant with your child. He choked, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

Did you give her the keys? I demanded.

Blythe leapt up, I made a duplicate myself. I wanted to push Edwards wife out, thats all.

The picture cleared: Freddie impersonated Edward, shuttling girls around in his car. Blythe, thinking shed cornered Edward, forged a set of keys to take over the flat. I blocked Freddies escape and warned him Id call the police if he tried anything else.

When the police finally arrived, Edward was left speechless, staring at the mess. I looked at him, I cant believe you handed out keys like that.

I just wanted to help my brother, he muttered.

You should have thought, I snapped, You almost turned me into a widower.

He whispered, Im sorry.

Ill forgive you, I said, but not today. Im famished.

Ill cook, he offered.

Lesson learned: trust is priceless, but a spare key can unlock far more trouble than you ever imagined.