“I’m marrying your ex-husband. So, sweetheart, it’s time for you to clear out of the apartment,” the mistress declared bluntly.
Only minutes earlier, Lydia had finally managed to put her daughter, Ellie, to bed. She herself had been about to turn in, hoping to savor a rare stretch of silence in the comfort of their cozy home.
Then the doorbell chimed—a soft, melodic trill that sliced through the calm.
“Well, that figures,” Lydia muttered with dry irony as she headed for the door.
On the threshold stood a petite young woman with cropped blonde hair and oversized brown eyes. She studied Lydia carefully, as though weighing her against some private standard.
“Yes?” Lydia asked, one eyebrow lifting.
“Oh—sorry,” the stranger said, snapping out of her thoughts. “My name is Sophie.”
“Nice to meet you,” Lydia replied coolly, folding her arms across her chest. “What can I do for you?”
“Yes, well… yes,” the visitor stammered. “I’m Sophie.”
“Noted,” Lydia answered, impatience creeping into her tone. “And the reason you’re here?”
“You are Lydia, right?” Sophie asked uncertainly.
“That’s correct. What is this about?”
“Well… you see…” Sophie brightened suddenly. “I’m Ryan’s fiancée!”
Lydia’s eyebrows shot up. Her eyes widened despite herself.
Of course, she thought. My former conqueror has already added a new exhibit to his collection. She gave Sophie a slow, assessing glance. Though, honestly, why should I care who he’s parading around now?
“I was hoping,” Sophie continued with a nervous smile, “that we could talk about my husband—well, future husband.”
“I doubt my memories would be of much help to you. We’re divorced,” Lydia replied flatly.
“I know. Ryan told me. I’m not here to argue!”
Lydia almost laughed. Argue? Why would I? He’s no longer mine, and you… you’re nothing to me.
“I’d really like to hear what he’s like,” Sophie pressed, clasping her hands together. “My Ryan.”
My Ryan. The words stung unexpectedly. Once, he had been hers.
“Fine,” Lydia sighed at last. “Come in.”
She stepped aside to let the uninvited guest enter the hallway. Curiosity tugged at her despite herself. Ryan rarely called anymore—he simply transferred the child support like clockwork and kept his distance.
In the kitchen, Lydia filled the kettle and brewed rose-petal tea in a glass pot. She arranged two cups on a tray, added a small plate of cookies, and carried everything into the living room.
Meanwhile, Sophie drifted along the walls, examining framed paintings and running her fingers over the spines of books. She absorbed every detail with open curiosity.
“It’s beautiful here!” she exclaimed. “So spacious. The ceilings are so high… and those huge windows overlooking the park! I’ve always dreamed of living somewhere like this.”
“What exactly did you want to know?” Lydia asked, setting the tray down.
“Oh—honestly? Everything,” Sophie replied vaguely. Then her gaze shifted to a closed door. “What’s in there?”
“Please don’t open it,” Lydia said sharply. “My daughter is asleep.”
“Oh, right! Ryan mentioned he has a daughter. What’s her name?”
“Ellie.”
“Yes, Ellie!” Sophie spun around and headed toward another door. Without asking permission, she pushed it open and stepped inside.
“Excuse me—where do you think you’re going?” Lydia demanded, hurrying after her.
“I’d like to see all the rooms,” Sophie tossed back lightly.
“Close that door and step out. Now.”
“Why?” Sophie turned, indignation flashing across her face. “This is my house.”
“What did you just say?” Lydia asked, stunned.
“Yes, mine. I’m marrying Ryan, and he’s giving it to me. So I thought I’d take a look around.” She fixed Lydia with a sharp, appraising stare. “Which means, sweetheart, it’s time for you to pack up and leave.”
Lydia felt her jaw tighten. “Are you even hearing yourself?” she said through clenched teeth.
“Why should I care what you think? I came to inspect my fiancé’s gift. I don’t want to end up stuck in some rundown place later. This will do nicely—”
“That’s enough!” Lydia’s voice rang like glass. “The show is over. Get out of my home.”
“Don’t tell me what to do!” Sophie snapped, reaching for yet another doorknob.
In a flash, Lydia grabbed her wrist and pulled. Sophie stumbled, barely keeping her balance as she lurched sideways. Lydia calmly shut the door behind her.
“Leave,” she hissed, fury burning beneath her controlled exterior.
“Oh, so fierce,” Sophie sneered. “Listen carefully: I’m giving you two weeks. After that, I’ll be living here. Understood?”
The sheer audacity left Lydia speechless. She hadn’t encountered such brazen arrogance in years.
“Get out,” she repeated quietly, her voice icy and firm.
“Fine, I’m going. I didn’t get to finish looking at the paintings, but whatever. I know the address now. Bye!”
Sophie hurried to the entryway, slipped on her shoes, and darted into the stairwell before Lydia could physically throw her out.
“Two weeks!” she shouted again as her footsteps echoed down the stairs.
Lydia slammed the door and leaned against it. Her knees trembled treacherously.
What was that? she wondered. Ryan wouldn’t dare pull something like this. He promised… Or is this just some delusional stunt by one of his admirers?
She checked the time. It was late—far too late—but sleep was no longer an option. She needed to call him. First, though, she peeked into Ellie’s room. The little girl slept peacefully, hugging her teddy bear. Lydia would never allow anyone to shatter their calm—certainly not some presumptuous girl imagining herself the lady of the house.
Outside, yellow squares of light glowed in neighboring apartment windows. Streetlamps flickered on, casting long shadows across the pavement.
Lydia paced the living room, absently smoothing stray strands of hair back into place. Her thoughts tangled together, her pulse pounding in her ears. Sophie’s words—Ryan’s new love’s words—echoed relentlessly.
The apartment Lydia shared with Ellie had always felt warm and secure. A soft sofa layered with patterned cushions, favorite books lining the shelves, photographs on the walls—everything whispered stability. Now that sense of safety seemed fragile, almost illusory.
She remembered the agreement she and Ryan had made: until Ellie finished school, she and her daughter would remain here. His fiancée’s bold declaration felt like a slap across the face.
Unable to stand it any longer, Lydia snatched up her phone and dialed her ex-husband’s number, pressing the device tightly to her ear. After several rings, a familiar voice answered.
“What?” Ryan grumbled, offering no greeting.
“What is this supposed to mean?” Lydia burst out, lowering her voice so she wouldn’t wake Ellie. “Some new girlfriend of yours showed up and ordered me to vacate the apartment. Is this your idea of a cheap joke, or have you reached a new level of spite?”
“All right, I get it,” Ryan said after a pause. “First of all, calm down.”
Lydia moved into the kitchen. Normally, the small space—with its old but carefully maintained cabinets—felt like a refuge. Tonight it seemed stifling.
“Calm down?” she repeated slowly, struggling to keep her voice steady. “You’re telling me not to get upset?”