Stepping Into Her London Flat, Olivia Halted. By the Door, Carefully Placed Beside Her and Ivan’s Shoes, Stood Expensive High Heels She Immediately Recognised—They Belonged to Ivan’s Sister. Why Was She Here? Olivia Didn’t Recall Ivan Warning Her About His Sister’s Visit — Olivia, is your husband off on a work trip again? — called out her colleague Paul as she headed to the bus stop. — Fancy grabbing a drink at the cafe? We could have your favourite hot chocolate and actually chat, instead of our rushing “hello, goodbye” routine. — Sorry, Paul, I can’t tonight. Ivan promised he’d get home early and we’re finally choosing a kitchen—still sorting things after the renovations. And he hasn’t been sent away for ages. — And he’s always home on time? — Paul asked, not quite hiding his ironic tone. — Not always, — smiled Olivia, shaking her head. — We need the money now, so Ivan’s got to work late. Once the flat’s fully furnished, then he can be home every evening. — Got it, — Paul laughed, wishing her a nice evening before heading off. Tonight, Olivia lucked out—the bus arrived quickly and she’d left work early, so made perfect time. Snagging a window seat, she drifted into thought. There was a time when she and Paul nearly got married, but it ended awkwardly—she barely remembered why. Then Ivan appeared, and she married him almost on a whim, perhaps just to get back at Paul: “See, I’m not alone, you missed your chance.” Paul tried to win her back—apologising, promising happiness, swearing to be faithful—but Olivia was swept up with Ivan and convinced herself she never truly loved Paul, just thought she had. Eventually she stopped thinking about him, until recently, when Paul transferred from head office to her branch. He acted pleasantly surprised, but Olivia suspected he’d requested the move. Still, it was nice he remained single and still warm towards her. She genuinely wished him happiness, even envied his future wife just a little—he was a real romantic, always charming. As for her, she hadn’t exactly been unlucky with Ivan—he was working relentlessly for their future. He wanted them to have everything, even if it meant they hardly saw each other now. They were living in Ivan’s sister’s flat, offered generously while her own children were growing up. Oksana and her husband didn’t worry about money; she’d never worked and saw no point renting the place out, simply investing in property so her kids would always have somewhere to live. Ivan and Olivia had redecorated as they liked, with Oksana’s blessing, and were now buying furniture. Yet Olivia often wondered if it wouldn’t have been better to rent somewhere already furnished. They’d sunk so much cash in, it could easily have covered years of rent or a deposit for a mortgage. But Ivan’s eyes lit up at Oksana’s offer of this home. Getting off the bus, Olivia crossed the street and headed to the building, the air thick with that pre-rain scent—but she wasn’t in the mood to savour it. Her mind swirled with thoughts, none settling for long—had it really been a year or more since they moved in? The flat still felt temporary, their “real life” always waiting to start… but when? She realised she was walking slowly, almost reluctant to reach her door. The entrance clicked open, welcoming her into the dim hallway, and she climbed the stairs to the fourth floor, tension building with each step. Opening the flat, Olivia stopped. By the door, neatly placed beside her and Ivan’s shoes, sat expensive high heels—Oksana’s, Ivan’s sister. Why was she here? Ivan hadn’t mentioned any visit. Olivia was about to call out, but something made her pause, intuition warning her to listen first. — We wanted a holiday — Oksana’s voice floated out. — But my husband can’t get time off, so I thought I’d give you these tickets. With one condition—her tone sharpened—you’re not to go with your wife, but with Vera. Olivia froze. “With Vera?” The name rang a faint bell—Ivan had once mentioned Oksana trying to set him up with her friend. Olivia hadn’t cared much back then. But hearing it now, dread twisted inside her. — I don’t want Vera — Ivan replied, irritated. — Oksana, I’ve told you, I’m with Olivia now. I have a wife! Why push this again? Olivia exhaled in relief—Oksana meddling as always. She readied herself to emerge, when Oksana continued: — Who are you fooling? I remember how much you loved Vera. You two were even planning to marry until you stormed off over a petty argument. Don’t be stubborn — I can see she’s better for you than Olivia. Vera’s different. Olivia stayed rooted, hardly registering what she was hearing. Loved? A marriage planned? Yet Ivan had said Vera didn’t matter. She stared at the floor, fighting composure as Oksana’s words echoed in her head. — So what? — Ivan retorted, with an edge of uncertainty. — That was the past. Yes, it happened, but it’s over. I love my wife. — Love? Oh come off it, Ivan! — Oksana scoffed. — You only married Olivia to make Vera jealous after she dumped you. When she wanted you back, you got married just to get revenge! Olivia’s heart tightened. Revenge? Was Ivan’s marriage to her really just payback? She felt suddenly lost, remembering she’d rushed into marrying Ivan herself after splitting with Paul. But even if Ivan had had the same motives at first, it didn’t matter—they loved each other now, didn’t they? Holding her breath, Olivia waited for what he’d say next. — It’s all in the past — Ivan’s voice replied. — I’m married now; I have commitments. — Commitments? — Oksana sneered. — No kids yet, thank God. Remember whose flat you’re living in? With Olivia, you’ll keep drifting from place to place. Vera’s just inherited a spacious three-bedroom from her parents! She still loves you—I know, she’s hoping you’ll come to your senses. Olivia pressed herself to the cold wall, fighting for control. How could Oksana say such things? But more than anger, she anxiously listened for Ivan’s reply. — Oksana, stop — Ivan said slowly, voice less certain than before. — A home isn’t everything. We have a roof, and soon we’ll buy our own. But Oksana didn’t back down: — You’re scared of change. Vera was always better for you; you’re just hurt, but it’s not too late. Vera would give you stability—the life you deserve. Don’t you see you’ll never be truly happy with Olivia? — And anyway, — said Oksana, — I won’t be able to let you have the flat much longer. I’ve got my own plans for it—you’ll have to move out soon. — Does Vera know about all this? — Ivan asked suddenly. — Of course! — Oksana replied quickly. — In fact, it was Vera’s idea. She wants you, knows you still love her. The tickets are just her way in—and she asked me to back her up. Silence fell. Olivia’s mind spun—why was Ivan quiet? Was he actually considering it? — What do I tell Olivia? — he finally asked, quietly. — Say you’re helping me at the cottage wink wink; we’re doing up the place. And then you can go off to the seaside with Vera. Simple. Olivia couldn’t take any more. She slipped back out of the flat and walked away into the chilly evening. Her feet led her to a cosy cafe almost by instinct. It was quiet, dusk falling outside, music playing faintly. She sank into a window seat and ordered vanilla hot chocolate without thinking. Her head spun with the conversation she’d overheard. She replayed Oksana’s words, aching to know how her husband could keep such secrets—how he’d never spoken of wanting to marry another, especially his sister’s friend! Olivia felt betrayed, but mostly hurt: was her marriage just his personal vendetta against an old flame? She’d always thought Ivan had chosen her for herself, not as a rebound. At least she’d always rejected Paul’s offers, not even sharing a cafe chat, let alone a holiday! Night fell, rain streaked down the windows, and Olivia stared at the city lights, untouched hot chocolate before her. Time hung suspended. Ivan hadn’t rung—clearly planning a seaside trip with Vera, not caring where Olivia was. Reaching for her phone, she found the battery dead. She sighed, knowing she couldn’t delay going home any longer. Wrapping herself in her coat, braced against the cold wind, Olivia walked home, mentally preparing herself: the relationship was over. A breakup was inevitable. At her door, a heaviness pressed upon her. She entered slowly, met by uncanny silence—no TV, no kitchen noises. But in the middle of the room were suitcases, half-packed. Ivan was moving out. “So it’s true—he’s leaving,” she thought. — What are you doing? — she asked, already expecting his excuse about helping Oksana at the cottage. But Ivan said something different. — Olivia, we’re leaving. I’ve found us a new flat. For now, at least—afterwards we’ll sort out a mortgage. — He paused, looking at her closely. — Why were you so late? I tried calling all evening—your phone’s off. Have you taken on extra shifts? Olivia couldn’t believe her ears. Everything she’d planned to say suddenly felt pointless. She nodded, confused. — We’re leaving? — she whispered. Sensing her uncertainty, Ivan came closer, then sat beside her to explain. — I had a row with Oksana — he sighed. — I’ve had enough. I don’t want us depending on her any more. We need our own place. Olivia felt herself let go just a little. But it wasn’t over yet. Ivan hesitated, then continued: — I should have told you before — his voice softened. — There was something with Vera, yes. I did marry you with her in mind. But you are the one I truly love—I don’t want to lose you. Relief began to trickle into Olivia’s heart. Hurt and lies remained, but openness mattered. — Sorry for not telling you sooner — Ivan said quietly. — It was hard… when you spoke about maybe marrying Paul, I thought my own confession was best left unsaid. Later, I just didn’t want to bring it up. Olivia sighed, tears pricking her eyes—but it was a comfort, not pain. — Alright — she breathed. — The past’s over. You said you’ve got us a flat? — Yes — Ivan nodded. — For now, but eventually our own home. No more Oksana, no more interference. We’ll make it work, I promise. Then get a mortgage, do things properly. Olivia agreed. She felt sure this was the right step. At last, it would be their life, not lived to others’ plans. — Well then, — smiled Ivan, — Let’s finish packing? She nodded again, speechless. All she could do now was trust that their future would genuinely be a fresh start, leaving the past behind for good.

Stepping into the flat, Alice stopped. By the doorway, arranged with strange precision next to her own shoes and Harrys boots, stood an unfamiliar pair. She recognised them instantlyfancy stilettos, expensive and tall, belonging to Harrys sister, Rachel. But why was Rachel here? Alice couldnt recall Harry mentioning anything about a visit.

Alice, is Harry off on another business trip? called her coworker Paul, catching up as she hurried towards the bus stop. Care to sit in the café for your usual cocoa, chat a bit? Lifes always a rushhello, goodbye.

Sorry, Paul, not tonight. Harry promised hed be home early. We were going to look at kitchensstill havent got the flat sorted since the refurb. And he hasnt travelled for work in ages anyway.

Is he ever home on time? Paul asked, the irony thinly veiled.

Not always. Alice smiled, shaking her head. We need the money lately, so he stays late at the office. Well get the flat sorted, and then things will settle down.

Paul grinned, wished her a pleasant evening, and sauntered the other way.

Alice got unusually lucky with the bus: typically she waited ages, but tonight it arrived quickly. She slipped into a seat by the window, sinking into thought.

She remembered a time when she and Paul had planned to marry, but it fizzled outshed nearly forgotten the reasons. Then Harry had appeared, almost as if conjured, and shed married him mostly to provoke Paul: See, Im not alone, now see what you missed.

Paul had tried mending thingsapologised, swore hed make her happy, never hurt her, always be faithful. But by then, Alice was swept off her feet by Harry, convinced shed never really loved Paul anyway.

Eventually, shed stopped thinking about Paul. Just recently hed transferred from their companys head office to the local branch. He acted surprised to see her, but Alice suspected hed requested the transfer on purpose, after discovering she worked there. Still, there was a comfort in knowing Paul was single and still regarded her with that old gentle warmness.

Deep down, she wished him happiness and envy twisted in her heart for whoever his future wife might behe was a romantic, charming, in a way Harry wasnt.

Not that she was unlucky with Harryhe took their life seriously, working all hours so Alice would want for nothing, could live comfortably. But lately, hed been getting swallowed by work, forgetting to make time for her.

And, of course, they were living in Rachels flat. Rachel had kindly allowed them to stay while her children were growing. Rachels own life was trouble-freeher husband earned well, she never worked, instead investing in property for her childrens futures. Renting the flat didnt make sense to her; the flat was just an investment, empty until the kids needed it.

Harry and Alice decorated it to their liking after Rachel allowed, were now slowly furnishing it. Still, Alice sometimes wondered if it would be better to have rented elsewhereperhaps a flat already fully furnished. How much money had gone into sprucing up Rachels place? Enough for a couple of years rent or to start a mortgage deposit. But when Rachel offered the flat, Harrys eyes had sparkled.

Alice stepped off the bus, crossed the street, and walked toward the building. There was a scent in the airsomething promising rainthat she usually savoured, but tonight she felt too unsettled.

Thoughts swirled but found no anchor, melting into one another, elusive. How long had she and Harry been here nowa year, perhaps more? She couldnt say. The flat still felt temporary, as if true life was postponed for some future, yet undefined date.

As she neared home, she noticed herself slowing, stretching out the time before stepping inside, tension bubbling strangely beneath her skin.

The buildings lobby door clicked behind her, and Alice climbed to the fourth floor. The stairwell flickered unnaturally, almost breathing with each step, shadows licking at her heels.

She entered the flat and stopped. By the doorway, next to her own shoes and Harrys, the expensive stilettos waitedRachels. What was she doing here?

She almost called out, Im home, but something tightened in her chest. Instinct told her not to step in, not yet. She froze, listening.

We wanted a break, Rachels voice slipped out, ghostlike through the corridor. But Jamess holiday wasnt approved, so I thought Id give you these tickets. Buton one condition, her voice hardened, Youll go, but not with your wife. Go with Vera.

Alice shivered. Vera? Hadnt Harry once mentioned the name, saying Rachel had tried to set him up with a friend?

Alice hadn’t given much thought to it then, but the name now scraped against something inside her, dread tightening.

I dont want Vera, Harrys voice sounded irritable. Rachel, Ive said before, Im with Alice now. Alices my wife! Stop this.

Alice felt relief bloom, Rachel just being her usual pushy self. She almost stepped into the sitting room, ready to declare her presence, when Rachel continued.

Oh, come off it. You loved Vera. You were even planning to marry before some silly spat. Dont be stubbornI see it clear as day, Alice isnt your match, but Verathats altogether different.

Alice froze, pressed against the hallway wall, struggling to process. Loved? Was about to marry? Hed told Alice Vera bored him. She stared into the floorboards, trying to steady herself, but Rachels words circled relentlessly.

So what? Harrys reply wandered with hidden uncertainty. Its over, in the past. Yes, but its done. I love my wife.

Love? Please, Harry. Rachels laughter sounded like a broken chime. We both know you married Alice just to make Vera jealous after she left for someone else. And when Vera wanted you back, begged your forgiveness, you married just for revenge.

Alices heart felt impossibly heavy. Revenge? Had Harry married her only to prove a point? She remembered how she herself rushed into marriage with Harry after breaking it off with Paul.

Maybe both their motives had started off wrong. But surely what mattered now was their real feeling. Or so Alice hoped. She waited, holding her breath, for Harrys reply.

Whats done is done, Harry said at length. Im married; I have responsibilities.

Oh please, Rachel scoffed. Children, thank goodness you havent had any yet. Remember whose flat you live in! With Alice youll drift forever, living borrowed corners. Vera, meanwhile, has just been given a three-bedroom flat by her parentsa place of her own, spacious, brand new. She still loves you, Harry, waiting for you to come to your senses.

Alice pressed herself to the cold wall, emotions spinning into a dizzy cloud. How could Rachel say such things? Her pulse thundered with one questionwhat would Harry say now?

Rachel, enough, Harry replied, but his voice lost its edge, uncertain, hesitant. A flats not everything. We have somewhere, for now. Well get our own in time.

But Rachel persisted. Youre clinging to the past! Vera was always better suited, youre just nursing an old grudge. With her you could have a real home, stabilitydont tell me you dont see it? You and Alice will never be truly happy.

And, Rachel added, I cant let you stay here forever. Ive got plans for the flat, so youll need somewhere else soon.

Does Vera know about this scheme? Harry asked suddenly.

Of course! She actually asked me to set it all up. The holiday tickets were her ideashes desperate to see you. Its all settled.

Silence blossomed thick as fog. Alice felt everything inside her swirl. Why wasnt Harry answering? Was he tempted?

What do I tell Alice? Harry whispered, almost drowned out by the stillness.

Tell her youre helping me at my cottageI need a hand with the renovations. Then sneak off with Vera to Brighton. Simple.

Alice couldnt hear more. She slipped out, quiet as mist, and hurried into the night.

Her feet led her, almost by their own will, to a small, dim café. Few people scattered about. Music drifted from the background, and twilight pressed itself against the rain-soaked windowpanes. Alice, exhausted and hollowed out, sat by the window and ordered vanilla cocoa from habit. Fragments of the overheard conversation looped through her mind, denying her peace.

Again and again she replayed Rachels words, trying to make sense of ithow could Harry hide such a truth, never mention a plan to marry someone else, and Rachels best friend no less? Alice felt betrayed, perhaps more stung by the realisation that her marriage might have been a retaliatory actshe had believed Harry chose her in earnest, only to realise now there were tangled motives beneath. She herself had resisted even a friendly café chat with Paul, let alone a seaside holiday. She had loved Harry wholly, after all.

Night pressed closer, Londons lights blinking through rain-streaked glass. Alice hadnt touched her cocoa. Time hovered, uncanny and slow.

Harry hadnt rung, hadnt even asked where she was. Hes probably planning a getaway with Vera, Alice thought bitterly, He doesnt care where I wander.

She fumbled for her phone, meaning to check the time, only to discover it was flatno charge.

Alice sighed with the weight of everything, knowing she couldnt drift here forever. She wrapped herself in her coat and braced for the chill, stepping out into the biting wind. She walked home, telling herself that her life with Harry was finished. The end seemed inevitable; she tried to steel herself for what came next.

Approaching the block, her heart sank even deeper. She climbed the stairs, fitted the key to the door, and slipped in. Silence greeted herno television babble, no kitchen clatter. But in the centre of the flat stood bags, half-packed. Harry was filling them.

She thought, Hes leaving for sure.

What are you doing? Alices voice came out as if borrowed, though she already knewno doubt hed say he was off to Rachels cottage. But Harry surprised her.

Alice, were moving out. Ive found another flat. Its not much, but its ours. Later well figure out a mortgage. He paused, searching her eyes. Why were you gone so long? Your phone was off, I tried all evening. Were you working late?

Alice couldnt believe it. All the words shed prepared fell uselessly around her. She nodded, without knowing how she ought to respond.

Are we moving? she whispered, uncertain if she understood.

Harry saw her confusion and came closer, explaining softly, I had words with Rachel. Ive had enough. I dont want to rely on her anymore. We need a place of our own.

Relief pricked at Alice, but uncertainty remained. Harry hesitated, then invited her to sit beside him on the battered sofa. He told her everything about the conversation with Rachel.

I shouldve told you earlier, he murmured, voice lowered. Its trueI was with Vera, and yes, marrying you was about settling a score with her. But Alice, you must knownone of that matters now. You are the only one I truly love, and I wont let you go.

Listening, Alices tangled emotions slowly calmed. She still reeled from the hurt and half-truths, but at last they were speaking honestly.

Im sorry for not telling you before, Harry said, head bowed. Once you told me about Paul, I thought my own story didnt fit. Afterwards I just couldnt bring myself to mention it.

Alice felt tears sting, but they were tears of release.

All right, she said softly, The past is over. You rented a flat?

Yesjust for now, but its ours. No more Rachel, no interference. Well manage, I promise. Later well sort the mortgage, make things right.

Alice nodded. Somehow, this felt like the right direction. At last, life together would be theirs alone, no more outsiders shaping their path.

Come on, Harry said with a faint smile, Lets start packing.

Alice nodded in answer, words failing her. All she could do was hopehope that maybe this time, life would truly carry them forward, no longer haunted by all that had come before.