This is where Poppy will be staying now, he announced as soon as he walked through the door.
Today was a weird kind of special.
Andrew was just getting back from a twoweek break. Hed gone down to Brighton for a bit of sun, to get away from everything, hed said. From work, from the city, probably even from her. Emily didnt take it personally. Hed been exhausted let him have his rest.
Shed stayed at the flat, tidying up, sorting the cupboards, even sweeping the balcony. She wanted him to walk in and feel how cosy and warm everything was.
The front door slammed.
Andrew? Emily peeked out of the kitchen, drying her hands on her apron.
He stood in the hallway, a little tan, a relaxed smile, a suitcase in one hand and a bag of trinkets in the other. He slipped off his trainers.
Hey, he said, chuckling.
How was the trip? Emily asked, moving closer. She wanted to hug him, but he was already heading straight into the living room.
Brilliant, he called back from the doorway. Sea, sunshine. Met some interesting folks.
Emily turned off the stove and called him to dinner.
He sat down, ate in silence, eyes fixed on his plate.
Whats up? Emily asked gently. Something on your mind?
Andrew set his fork down, looked at her and said:
Emily, Poppys going to live here now.
Emily froze.
What?
Poppy. I met her in Brighton. Shes in a bind no roof over her head. I invited her to stay with us, just for a while.
You Emily couldnt find the words. Youre asking a stranger to move into our flat?
Shes not a stranger, Andrew replied calmly. Weve become friends. Shes a good person. Youll see once you meet her.
Im supposed to understand that? Emilys voice trembled.
Emily, dont overthink it. Its only temporary a couple of weeks, at most a month. Until she finds a job and a place of her own.
Emily stared at the man shed spent seven years with, the man whod promised to always be there, and now he was bringing a stranger into their home. And she was expected to just accept it.
Whens she arriving? Emily asked quietly.
Tomorrow morning, Andrew said.
Emily got up, cleared the plates, washed the dishes, her hands shaking. Inside her chest a cold, dark wave rose.
Poppy turned up at ten in the morning, two suitcases and a large shoulder bag. She was brightlooking tanned skin, glossy shoulderlength hair, a whitetoothed smile, jeans that clung to her shape, and a thin gold chain around her neck.
Emily watched from the hallway as Andrew helped the guest take off her coat, handling her belongings with a strange tenderness.
Come in, make yourself at home, Andrew said. Emily, this is Poppy.
Hi! Poppy extended a firm handshake. Thanks for letting me stay. I wont be long, promise!
Emily gave a silent nod. She hadnt been asked for consent.
The rooms just down the hall, Andrew opened the door to a small bedroom off the living room. The sofa pulls out, the linens are fresh. If you need anything, just shout.
Oh, its perfect! Poppy walked in, looking around. Cosy. Mind if I hang my painting later? Just for a bit of atmosphere.
Emily felt something tighten inside her.
Of course, Andrew said. Feel at home.
And then the real fun began.
From day one Poppy settled in like she owned the place.
She got up early, earlier than Emily, slipped into the kitchen in short shorts and a tank top, poured coffee, and sat opposite Andrew at the table. They chatted, laughed, talked about whatever.
Emily would wander in, the conversation would pause.
Morning, Poppy would say with a grin. Mind if I used your Turkish coffee pot? Yours is brilliant!
Emily just nodded, headed off to work.
Shed come back in the evening to find Poppy already on the sofa, legs draped over it, watching TV.
Emily, could you wash this jumper for me? Poppy asked one day.
Emily pointed to the washing machine. Its right there. You can do it yourself.
Poppy blinked, her smile cooled a touch. Right, sorry.
Then it got more intense. Poppy started cooking, spreading her groceries across every shelf, taking up the biggest pots, even the whole stove.
Andy, have a go! she called to Andrew. Made pasta just like in Italy!
Emily lingered in the doorway, watching Andrew eat and praise the dish without even glancing at her.
Emily, want some? Poppy offered a spoon.
No, thanks, Emily replied, pulling herself back to the bedroom.
Weeks later, a neighbour, Aunt Lucy, stopped Emily in the hallway:
Heard youve got a new guest? Young, pretty. Did the husband bring her back from his break?
Emily swallowed.
Shes just staying for a bit. A friend.
A friend, huh? Lucy squinted. Well, friends come in all shapes.
Ever get that feeling that everyones whispering about you but no one says anything to your face? Emily knew it well. A familiar face in the shop gave her a sympathetic look. A coworker asked, Hows home? with an edge that made her want to disappear.
At home, Andrew spent more and more time with Poppy. They watched movies together, stayed up late talking in the kitchen about whatever.
Emily tried to speak up:
Andrew, maybe its time? She said it was only temporary. Its been three weeks.
Emily, give her a little more time. Shes looking for work, a flat. We cant just kick her out!
And what about me? Emily snapped. This is my home! I never agreed to this!
Youre being jealous, Andrew snapped back. Poppys just a friend. Youre making it a drama.
He didnt see the problem, or he chose not to.
One evening Emily got home early, slipped in quietly, and found Andrew and Poppy standing by the window, too close for comfort, laughing softly. Poppy rested a hand on Andrews shoulder. Emilys heart dropped.
Whats happening? she asked.
They turned.
Oh, Emily! Andrew pulled his hand away. Youre up early.
Whats going on? she repeated.
Nothing, were just chatting, he muttered, looking annoyed.
Poppy stayed silent, staring at the floor. Emily turned and fled to the bedroom. She couldnt take it any longer.
She lay awake all night, listening to Andrews footsteps in the bathroom, his quiet movements in the bedroom, the way hed lie beside her but never really lean in.
In the morning she made a decision.
Andrew, she said while he was making coffee, we need to talk. The three of us.
He looked up.
About what?
Everything. Tonight. And tell Poppy.
Emily.
No arguing. Just do it.
That night they all sat at the table. Emily set the plates.
Thanks for inviting me, Poppy said, a nervous smile on her face. I didnt expect this.
I didnt expect a lot either, Emily cut in. But lets be straight.
She looked at Andrew, then at Poppy.
I have one question. Direct. I want a direct answer.
Emily, whats that? Andrew began.
Shut up. Emilys voice was calm but firm. Poppy, are you living here as a guest, a family member, or as his second wife?
Silence fell. Poppys face went pale. Andrew froze with his glass halfraised.
I Poppy started.
Answer honestly, Emily pressed. Im tired of pretending. Im sick of hearing you whisper in corners, you making breakfast for him, using my kitchen, my things, acting like the owner of this place.
Emily, settle down, Andrew tried to intervene.
No! Emily slammed her hand on the table, making the glasses clink. Ive put up with this for a whole month!
Poppy lowered her eyes.
I didnt want
Didnt want what? Emily leaned forward. Not to live here? Not to take my spot?
Im not taking your spot.
You are!
Then Poppy lifted her head, met Emilys gaze, and said:
Fine. You want the truth? Here it is. Andrew and I have been having an affair since Brighton. He didnt just ask me to crash, he asked me to come because he loves me.
The words hung heavy in the air. Emily felt everything snap.
She turned to Andrew.
Is it true?
He stared at his plate, then exhaled.
Yes, he finally said. Its true.
Emily slumped back, hands trembling, heart pounding like it might burst.
So youve been lying to me all month? Calling her just a friend? Saying Im making a fuss?
I didnt want to hurt you.
Didnt want to? Emily laughed, bitterly. You brought your lover into our home and said you didnt want to hurt me!
Emily, Im sorry.
Shut up, she snapped, standing. Just shut up.
Poppy also got up.
Emily, I understand this is painful, she said.
You dont understand! Emily shouted. You moved into my flat, ate from my dishes, acted like the victim while you
She didnt finish, turned and stormed to the bedroom.
Andrew followed.
Emily, lets talk calmly.
Talk? Emily opened the wardrobe, pulling out his clothes. Fine, well talk. Pack your stuff. And hers too. Get out. Both of you. Now.
Emily, you cant
I can! She threw his shirt onto the floor. This is my flat! I bought it! I decide who lives here!
But
No more buts! Emily glared, pain and disgust in her eyes. You betrayed me. Now leave.
Andrew stood there, helpless, as Poppy watched from the doorway.
After half an hour they were out, suitcases in hand, the painting Poppy never got to hang left behind.
Emily spent the first week barely leaving the flat, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, crying, then just staying still. The emptiness was so heavy she could hardly breathe.
Andrew kept calling, texting. She ignored him. Poppy tried to apologise, begged for forgiveness. Emily blocked her number.
One morning she looked at herself in the mirror pale, dark circles, hair a mess and thought, Enough. Enough of the pain, enough of letting anyone control her.
She took a hot shower, changed, brewed coffee, opened the windows and let fresh air in. She decided to start over.
A month later she signed the divorce papers without a second thought. The flat stayed hers shed bought it before they married, so Andrew had no claim. He kept trying to meet, to talk, but she turned him down.
We have nothing to discuss, she texted. You made your choice. Live with it.
Later she learned Andrew and Poppy moved in together, rented a place for two, but after six months they split. Poppy moved to another city, Andrew was left on his own.
Emily, meanwhile, began traveling, finally feeling that life belonged to her. It was scary to be on her own, but she didnt regret it one bit.
