In the rearview mirror, Dustin's silhouette ducked into another car. We drove off in opposite directions—our lives splitting further apart with every mile. And yet he assumed I'd always be standing right where he left me.
After all, I once loved him enough to give up everything.
By the time I arrived at what used to be "home" with the divorce papers in my bag, night had already fallen.
I'd poured my heart into this house when we got married. I'd designed it myself—handpicked every material, supervised every detail. Every vintage brick, every light fixture, every potted plant, chosen to make it exactly the way I wanted. I'd believed this would be the castle where Dustin and I spent the rest of our lives together.
Then Alice moved in as the lady of the house, and I lost even the right to walk through the front door.
I swallowed the bitterness churning inside me and punched in the door code.
Wrong. I tried again. Wrong. And again. Wrong.
I paused. Then, with something close to masochistic certainty, I keyed in Alice's birthday.
The door opened.
The cold hit me like being thrown into a frozen lake.
Dustin had once told me this code was our wedding anniversary—that he would never change it. Turns out promises could be discarded as easily as feathers on the wind.
I stepped inside, and the house was unrecognizable.
The warm vintage brown tones I loved had been replaced by garish pink. My carefully chosen sofa, my furniture—all gone.
In their place: a rhinestone-encrusted princess sofa, lace-trimmed curtains, an entire wall covered in pink feather decorations. Every inch dripped with a saccharine "little princess" aesthetic. Alice's taste, everywhere I looked.
I was a stranger in my own home.
"Oh? Miss Harding?"
Behind me, the elderly housekeeper hurried over, her eyes sweeping me up and down in surprise.
"What are you doing here? Mr. Delgado gave strict orders—you're absolutely not allowed inside. If the missus sees you, it could trigger another episode."
Miss Harding? The missus?
Those two titles from her mouth landed like slaps.
Mockery flooded my eyes. I turned and headed straight for the stairs.
"You can't go up there! Mr. Delgado is busy!" The housekeeper's voice pitched higher with panic as she reached out to grab me.
"Get out of my way."
I shoved past her and took the stairs two at a time.
The master bedroom door was ajar. I pushed it open and walked in.
My brain whited out.