I stepped off the elevator and almost tripped over a trash bag.
“Who on earth would dump their trash outside the elevator?” I muttered in annoyance.
I grabbed the offending bag, intending to move it aside. Then I noticed more bags piled in a small heap just beside the elevator.
I froze. One bag was open, revealing my grandmother’s locket glinting faintly against the familiar purple of my favorite evening gown.
I dropped the bag at my feet and stared at the pile in shock. My suede heels peeked out from a tear in another bag. The hardcover novel I’d cried through last winter lay open on the floor, like a bird that had tried to escape.
My chest tightened. What were my things doing in trash bags in the hall?
I clutched my keys with trembling fingers and ran to my apartment.
My key scraped the lock but didn’t turn. I tried again. And again.
A chill spidered up my spine. I jiggled the knob and then pounded once, twice.
Behind the door: voices. Alan’s laugh and a woman’s giggle that was soft and syrupy.
I pulled out my phone to call him so he could open up for me, but just then, the door swung open.
It wasn’t Alan.
It was Miranda, my mother-in-law, lips pursed in that permanent twist of superiority she reserved just for me.
“Oh. It’s you,” she said, like swatting a gnat. She pointed toward the trash bags. “Take your things before someone else does. You don’t live here anymore.”
The words slapped me across the face. I almost dropped my phone.
“What are you talking about? Where’s Alan?” My voice cracked like glass.
“Alan’s busy,” Miranda replied, teeth bared in a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
Then someone else appeared behind her, a woman with tousled hair wearing the hoodie I’d given Alan for Christmas.
Lesley. She blinked like she hadn’t expected to be seen.
They’d introduced her to me months ago as Alan’s childhood friend. “We dated in school, but we were practically siblings,” they’d laughed. “There’s nothing between us anymore.”
Right.
“You weren’t supposed to be home so early,” she said, a complaint more than an explanation.
Miranda stepped forward, proud as a queen.
“Do you understand now? Lesley and Alan never broke up. They’ve been together the whole time,” she declared. “Even during your little marriage.”
Two years. Every anniversary. Every kiss. A lie.
“That’s not possible,” I whispered, but the pieces clicked into place like a lock I never wanted opened.
“Mom, I was going to handle this,” Alan appeared in the doorway, looking annoyed rather than guilty.
“She needed to know the truth,” Miranda said, patting her son’s cheek. “No point dragging this out.”
I stared at them, this bizarre tableau.
“This is my apartment,” I said, finding my voice at last. “My grandmother left it to me, and you can’t kick me out.”
Alan crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe as he flashed me a grin laced with casual cruelty. “Check the registration, babe. Remember when you added me to the deed? For tax purposes?”
Of course, I remembered. I’d done it just last month, after a conversation with Alan about building our life together… oh, God. They’d been conning me all along.
“Look, this isn’t personal,” Alan continued. “You and I… we were never going to work out.”
My hands trembled. “So instead of a divorce, you stole my property and packed my life in garbage bags? You-you pigs! If you think I’ll let you get away with this—”
“Save it,” Alan snapped. “You have no chance in court since you registered me on the apartment deed. You quit your job, so you’re broke and can’t afford a lawyer, anyway.”
“And if you do try anything,” Miranda added with a thin smile, “we’ll counter-sue for emotional distress. Legal fees alone would ruin you.”
“Just take the L, sweetheart,” Lesley smirked.
They laughed like it was all some reality show reveal. Like my life falling apart was prime-time entertainment.
My heart was a stone in my chest. I slipped my phone back into my pocket and my hands clenched into fists, but instead of doing something stupid, I walked away.
I was furious, humiliated, and heartbroken, but not defeated.
That night, I crashed on my friend Casey’s couch. I replayed the moment Miranda bragged about their plan.
“They’ve been planning this for over a year?” Casey asked. “What the… and his mother was in on it? That’s evil.”
“I’m not going to let them get away with this.” I sniffed. I tapped on my phone screen. “I’m calling Alyssa.”