15October2025 London
Im exhausted, but I finally managed to get home after a marathon of meetings. I thought Id take a stroll instead of driving, but that was naive; I barely made it back to the flat. Tomorrow Ill take a cab because the car is still parked at the office and the thought of walking any further makes me cringe.
I fumble for the key, insert it, turn it a few timesand the lock refuses to give. I tug at the handle; nothing moves.
Cor! I mutter, hanging on the cold metal. Did I get the right floor?
I doublecheck the numbers: first, second third floor, flat17. It cant be my imagination. Someone must have locked the door from the inside. My husband, of course.
James? Are you in there? I call, pressing my ear to the door. Silence.
James should be at work until late. We never agreed hed be home early, and I cant shake the uneasy thought that something might have happened to him. He always lets me know if his plans change, so I dismiss the worry. I try his phoneno answer.
Resigned, I go back to the door, pounding on it with growing frustration.
Come on, open up! I shout, then knock harder. A faint shuffling noise comes from inside, but the door remains shut.
This is absurd, I say, voice shaking. Whos there? Im calling the police. I suspect burglars! The idea of intruders makes my skin crawl.
Just as Im about to dial 999, the door bursts open.
A figure steps ina tiny, almost ethereal girl with oversized animestyle eyes, white hair cut to her shoulders, and lips that look like they belong on a cartoon. For a heartbeat Im speechless.
She looks straight at me and, with a haughty air, declares:
Lady, stop trying to force your way in. You no longer live here. Pack your bags, get out, and leave at once.
What? I gasp.
Now! Move!
At work I have a rule: stay calm, no matter what. I try to keep that composure here, but the absurdity of the situation snaps something inside me. In one swift motion I grab the girl by her hair, ignoring her shrieks, and yank her into the flat.
What the! she screams, trying to break free. Let go! Im pregnant!
I glance around. A halfopened suitcase sits in the hallway, near the living room. I release her, and she hisses, flinging a heavy bronze candlestick at me. I dodge just in time, then snap my fingers.
Sit down! I bark, pulling her onto a kitchen chair. Now that we know whos in charge, youll answer my questions. Speak only when I say so. Youre in my house, and Ill have the police on you for illegal entry.
She continues to protest, but I wait until her shrieks wane and ask calmly:
Who are you?
She shakes her head, brushes hair from her face, and snarls:
Im Violet! And Im going to be Jamess wife!
Im already piecing it together. The lock isnt broken, the flat isnt being robbedsomeone let her in. Who?
Right, James isnt he my husband? I say with a dry smile. Did you get the wrong man?
She snaps back, but I keep her seated.
I didnt mix him up! You being married to me means nothing. James loves me. Hes filing for divorce. He says you dont understand him at all! And Im carrying his child! Her voice rises, making my head throb. Well live here, so you must leave his flat immediately!
I lean against the doorframe, watching this theatrical spectacle. Just yesterday I thought everything with James was fine. Now a frantic woman with a suitcase and a claim of pregnancy barges in.
What did James tell you about marrying me? I ask, my tone icy. If you think Im this
She doesnt answer, only glares.
He said it was a mistake! That Im coldhearted and he needs someone who gets his soul! she retorts.
I see, I say, raising an eyebrow. And he swore eternal love to me nine years ago. How long have you known each other?
Six months, Violet admits, finally sounding a little less frantic. You cant understand, but he loves me. He writes me poems, takes me out to fancy restaurantsno ones ever courted me like that! Leave our happiness alone.
I cant help but smirk. Your happiness, huh? The poems, the restaurants James? Hes not the romantic type, but hes honest, clever, and he loves me. He loved
Maybe hes hiding his creative side, I muse aloud.
For Gods sake, I say, Im not trying to ruin your happiness, but half the property is mine, mind you. I notice a flicker of confusion in Violets eyes. I dont know what James told you, but he didnt pick me up off the street. We earned everything together. So before we argue about divorce and assets, tell me how you got a key to our flat.
She looks taken aback.
He just gave them to me!
The idea that James would hand over a spare key to a stranger feels absurd. Hes not that foolish; he knows it would only anger me. Yet here we are.
I stand, lost in thought about flats, cars, and revenge, when the lock clicks and James walks in.
Rose? Why are you up so early? he asks, surprised to see me in the hallway.
I smile weakly. I wanted to surprise you, get home early, buy a few things, make dinner. Then we have guests. My smile doesnt quite reach my eyes.
James furrows his brow, then spots Violet perched on the chair, hair disheveled, eyes sharp.
Whos this? he asks cautiously.
This is oh, what a performance! I exclaim, waving my hands. Your new wife and the mother of your future child! I watch his reaction.
His face is a mixture of disbelief and annoyance.
This is nonsense, he mutters. Ive never seen her before.
I spin around him.
I expected youd deny it or claim it was a coincidence, but youve actually managed something original, love. I pause, then continue, Its terrible, James. How could you not acknowledge your pregnant girlfriend? How will you look your sonor daughterin the eye? And why didnt you tell her the flat is shared? You wanted to make an impression, didnt you?
James looks genuinely puzzled.
Its not my not my Violet starts, then stammers.
Your James isnt my James, she sputters. I dont know yours.
Then what did I say? James asks, irritated.
I met a man in a bar who called himself James, Violet says, finally steadier. We dated like normal people, went to restaurants, he drove me home in his car Then he seemed to lose interest, so I took drastic measures.
So you thought you were coming to the house of your fiancé? I ask.
Yes, she whispers.
And you tried to take over someone elses flat? I add.
I hoped hed keep his promise, she says, eyes wide. If I showed up and forced the issue, hed have no choice but to divorce and marry me. But this isnt his flat?
Whose flat is it? I demand.
Jamess. My James. He drove me here.
Do you come here often? I press.
Not a lot, but enough. She shrugs.
Im calling the police, I announce. Some unknown man posing as James brought a girl into our home with our own keys. Either this is some twisted fate or you both are lying spectacularly.
A heavy silence follows. I notice James fidgeting.
James, whats going on? I ask, narrowing my eyes. Anything to say?
He looks at Violet, then at me, then swallows.
Actually there is something, he mutters.
Spit it out, I demand. Otherwise Im not responsible for what happens next.
He sighes and admits he gave spare keys to his brother, Fred.
My brother asked for themjust in case he needed the car or the flat while we were away. He said hed only stay a week, and we were supposed to be off to Greece. He looks utterly bewildered.
I stare at him, half in disbelief.
So thats why everything felt off when we got back. Did you turn our home into a guest house?
He just asked, James says defensively.
I see, I say, smirking. He asked, you gave him a set, he pretended to be you, and brought this woman here. Fine. Lets have Fred over right now.
After a grumbling James agrees, and within an hour Fred arrives. Hes a solid bloke, the kind youd recognize at a pub, though his mind seems a bit scattered.
Good day, he says cheerfully, until he spots Violet.
Good day, indeed, I reply, grabbing his arm. You posed as James and led this girl into our flat?
Fred laughs nervously. No, no, I just popped in for a quick visit. Wanted a bit of fun, you knowadrenaline and all that. Just a joke.
A joke? I raise an eyebrow. Ill make one too. Shes pregnant with your child.
Fred coughs, looking genuinely shocked. What? No
Did you give her a key? I ask.
Violet, who had been silent, lifts her head.
It wasnt him. I made a duplicate myself, hoping to push his wife outwell, you. She blurts out. I wanted to be his wife, so I thought if I could lock him out, I could win.
The picture clicks: Fred pretended to be James, took Violet in his car, she fell for him, got pregnant, then tried to claim the flat as hers. I block his exit.
Stay put, or Ill call the police, I warn.
Violet, deflated, mutters about talking later about the baby. Fred, clearly out of his depth, sits quietly as I lay out the whole mess.
I turn to James.
How could you give a spare key to someone you barely know? I ask.
I just wanted to help my brotherthought it was harmless. He looks apologetic.
You should have thought, I snap. You almost made me a widow.
He stammers, Im sorry Im really sorry.
Sorry wont fix this, I say, sighing. But Im hungry. Ill make dinner.
James nods, and I head to the kitchen, finally feeling the tension ease a little. The night has been a bizarre comedy of errors, but at least the flat is ours again.
