When my neighbour knocked at my door at ten oclock in the evening, he was holding a key that I didnt recognise.
I was alone in the kitchen, washing up the dishes. It had been a long day, and all I longed for was a bit of peace and quiet. When I opened the door, he stood on the threshold, staring at me oddly.
Isnt this your key? he asked.
I glanced at the silver key in his palm. It looked exactly like mine.
No, I said. Mines right here.
I showed it to him.
He frowned.
Then why does it open your door?
For a moment, I thought he was having me on. But his face was dead serious.
What do you mean, it opens the door?
About half an hour ago, he said, I saw a woman come in. Thought it was you, then I saw you standing on your balcony.
My heart began to pound in my chest.
Ive lived on my own for two years now. After the divorce, I swore I wouldnt put up with anyone elses quirks, noise, or keys ever again.
How did she look? I ventured.
Dark hair, forty-ish, carrying a handbag.
A chill crept up my spine. No one but me had a key to this flat.
No oneexcept for one person.
My ex-husband.
But hed moved out two years ago. Hed told me hed given the key back. Or so he said.
Are you sure she came in here? I asked.
I saw her clearly, my neighbour replied. She turned the handle and walked in.
I turned towards the door behind me. Inside, it was silent.
Too silent.
Wait here, I told him.
But he shook his head.
No way Im letting you go in there alone.
We entered slowly. The lounge looked exactly as I had left it. The light was on, as usual.
But on the table was something that hadnt been there before.
A mug.
My mug.
Half full with water.
I stopped, speechless.
I havent had any water, I whispered.
He stepped over and touched it.
Its still warm.
At that moment, there was a faint noise from the hallway. As if someone was moving something.
We froze.
Is anybody there? my neighbour called out.
No answer.
He pressed on ahead. I followed, trembling. The bedroom door was half ajar.
My heartbeat thundered in my ears.
He flung the door open.
The room was empty.
But my wardrobe was open wide.
All my clothes had been disturbed.
And on the bed, something small had been placed.
An envelope.
I edged forward and picked it up. On the front, only my name.
I opened it with shaking fingers.
Inside was a single note.
Just one line.
When youre ready to talk, you know where to find me.
The handwriting was unmistakable.
My ex-husband.
My neighbour glanced over at me.
He still has a key?
I shook my head slowly.
He wasnt supposed to.
I sat down on the bed, trying to make sense of it all. The last time Id seen him was at the court. Calm, almost unnervingly so.
Back then, hed even said to me:
One day, well talk again.
Id thought he was just rambling.
But now someone had been in my home.
Sat at my table.
Drank from my mug.
And rummaged through my clothes.
My neighbour hovered at the door, looking down at the note.
This really isnt normal.
I know.
Suddenly, a thought hit me. I went straight to the cupboard by the front door and opened it.
Thats where I kept the spare key.
It was missing.
Thats when the truth dawned on me, making my blood run cold.
He hadnt made a copy.
Hed simply never given back the key.
And Id believed him.
My neighbour said quietly,
Looks like its time to change your locks.
I stared at the note again.
Then I tore it clean in half.
No, I said. Its time I changed far more than that.I stood up straighter, every inch of my body humming with the sharp clarity of a final decision. My neighbour watched as I strode to the window, the city lights sparkling below, each one reminding me of all the things still waiting for me beyond this flatbeyond him. I took a deep breath and turned back, feeling the weight of the broken past lift, a fraction at a time.
Ill call the locksmith tonight, I said. And tomorrowIll call a lawyer. This is done.
For the first time all evening, I saw my neighbour smilea small thing, but steady. He nodded. If you want, you can stay at my place tonight. Just so youre not alone.
I hesitated, then shook my head. No. I think I need to sleep here. I need to remind myself that this is my home.
He paused, then handed me the unfamiliar key, cool and heavy in my palm. I closed my fingers around it, feeling the jagged edges bite into my skina fitting, final reminder.
After he left, I locked every door, every window, double-checking each latch. I poured the water from the mug down the sink, washed it thoroughly, and set it to drycleansing the last trace of anothers presence.
When I crawled into bed, the torn note lay beside me. I glanced at the halves, the words forever separated, and felt a strange, fierce sense of hope. I was alone, yes, but I was not empty, nor afraid.
Tomorrow, the locks would be changed, and with them, the rules of my life.
Tonight, beneath the hush of midnight, I finally slept with the peace Id been longing forknowing, at last, that what lingered was not his shadow, but my own strength.
