“Blimey, who are you?” came a deep male voice from the bedroom as Emily pushed open the door to her flat.
“Actually, that’s my question,” she shot back. “What on earth are you doing in my bedroom?”
A blonde woman in a silk dressing gown appeared in the doorway, flashing a smug grin.
“Ohhh, so you’re Emily!” she drawled. “Mikey’s told me loads about you. I’m Lily, your fiancé’s sister.”
After a gruelling day at work, all Emily wanted was a hot bath. Instead, she’d come home to an unwelcome sister-in-law-to-be making herself at home.
“Mike’s my fiancé, not my husband,” Emily corrected tightly. “And I don’t recall agreeing to this little visit.”
A sheepish young man peeked over Lily’s shoulder.
“Dan and I are on holiday,” Lily cut in breezily. “Mike said we could crash here for a week.”
Emily marched into the kitchen—only to find chaos: dirty plates, empty takeaway containers.
“Funny, Mike didn’t mention guests this morning,” she muttered.
“Goodness, you’re so uptight!” Lily laughed, pulling a bottle of wine from the fridge. “Mike gave me the keys ages ago. Thought you’d talked about it. No big deal if you didn’t.”
“No, we didn’t. And why are you in our bedroom, not the guest room?”
Lily shrugged. “Guest room’s tiny. Your bed’s king-sized! Mike said you’d bunk on the sofa bed for a few nights—no drama!”
Memories of meeting Mike’s family flooded back—his mother and sister radiating disdain.
“Sorry to burst your bubble, but this is my flat, my bedroom, my bed,” Emily said firmly. “Mike lives here because I let him.”
“Ah, so the rumours are true,” Lily smirked. “Mum said you’ve got Mike wrapped around your finger.”
“Listen, I’m exhausted. You can stay in the guest room—tonight. But our bedroom is off-limits.”
“We’ll see what Mike says. Bet he’ll tell you how rude you’re being,” Lily scoffed.
When Mike arrived, his sister pounced.
“Mikey! Your fiancée’s trying to kick us out of your room!”
“Em, what’s going on?” he asked, bewildered.
“Why did you give your sister keys to my flat?” Emily kept her voice steady.
“Our flat, Emily. I live here too, remember?”
“Oh, I remember. By my invitation. Doesn’t mean you hand out keys without asking.”
On the balcony, Mike sighed dramatically.
“What’s got into you? She’s my sister. I promised they could stay.”
“So that means they commandeer our bed?”
“What’s the big deal? It’s bigger! We’ll cope on the sofa bed.”
“The big deal is you gave strangers access to my home without consulting me.”
“Dan’s not a stranger! He’s Lily’s bloke!”
“I’ve never met him! Or your sister, really.”
“So you’ve just decided to hate my family?”
Inside, Lily’s whining carried through the door: “This jumped-up cow’s trying to chuck us out! Mike’s sorting her out now.”
“Em, be reasonable,” Mike pleaded. “It’s just a week. If we’re getting married, you’ll have to compromise.”
With that, he walked off—leaving Emily alone as he laughed with his sister, ignoring her completely.
Something inside her snapped. Two years of love, support, compromise—gone in an instant.
“Get out of my flat,” she said, quiet but steely.
All three gaped at her.
“What?!” Mike spluttered.
“I said get out. All of you.”
“Mike, control your nutter girlfriend,” Lily sneered.
But Emily was already hauling Lily’s suitcase to the door, flinging out dresses, makeup, heels.
“Are you mad?!” Lily shrieked.
Emily shoved the suitcase onto the landing.
“You’ve lost it!” Mike roared. “Stop this now!”
“No, you lost it thinking your sister could disrespect me in my own home. Now it’s your turn.”
“Em, let’s talk—”
“Nothing to talk about. I get it. My feelings mean nothing.”
She stormed to the bedroom, bundling his clothes, shoes, watch—all tossed unceremoniously outside.
“You psycho!” Lily screeched, scrambling after her things.
“You can’t just throw me out,” Mike said, stunned. “We were getting married!”
“Thank God we didn’t. I deserve a man, not a doormat. You? You can live with your sister.”
The door slammed shut.
Half an hour later, once the shouting faded, Emily ordered dinner from her favourite restaurant. Opening the door for the delivery guy, she spotted Mike and Lily glowering from the stairs. Calmly, she took her food, thanked the courier, and shut the door—without a glance their way.
Setting the table, she turned on a film. As she sipped her wine, Emily realised: she wasn’t sad. She was free.
“How odd,” she mused, “to lose a relationship and find yourself in the same day.”
Smiling at her reflection, she raised her glass. “To me.”
**”In love, respect matters most. Without it, even the fiercest passion is just a passing fancy.”** —Honoré de Balzac.
