“Won’t it make the room too dark?”
“Let it.”
When the work was finished, Claire stepped inside and realized that, for the first time, the apartment did not look merely stylish.
It looked like hers.
Eight months passed.
One evening, someone rang the bell.
Daniel stood outside.
He had no suitcase and no confident smile.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
“Can we talk?”
Claire stepped into the hallway but left the door almost closed behind her.
He noticed.
“I won’t stay long.”
“All right.”
“I heard you renovated the bedroom.”
“I did.”
“What color?”
“Green.”
He gave a faint, almost automatic smile.
“You know, I always said—”
He stopped himself and shook his head.
“Sorry. Habit.”
For the first time, Claire smiled at him without anger.
“Why are you here?”
Daniel looked at the floor.
“I wanted to return something.”
He took a small key from his pocket.
The old key to the apartment.
“I found it in a winter coat.”
Claire held out her hand.
He placed the key in her palm.
But he did not leave.
“Vanessa was right,” he said suddenly.
“About what?”
“I gave everyone a different version of myself.”
Claire remained silent.
“To you, I was the husband doing everything for his family. To her, I was the owner of everything. To my mother, I was the victim you were trying to rob. And to myself…” He gave a bitter laugh. “To myself, I kept saying I deserved a better life.”
He looked up at her.
“In the end, none of those versions was true.”
“That happens.”
“Are you happy?”
Claire considered the question.
Once, she would have answered yes simply to hurt him.
Now she did not need to.
“I’m at peace.”
Daniel nodded.
“That may be better.”
He started down the stairs.
“Daniel.”
He turned.
“What?”
Claire raised the old key.
“I changed the locks eight months ago.”
He glanced at the key, then at her.
And suddenly he laughed.
For the first time in a long while, there was no bitterness in it.
“That makes sense.”
“Take care of yourself.”
“You too.”
He walked away.
Claire closed the door.
She placed the old key in a drawer.
She did not throw it out.
Not because she wanted to remember Daniel.
Some things were worth keeping as proof that doors which once seemed eternal could eventually stop opening.
She made coffee.
Then she went into the green bedroom and opened the window.
Rain and wet trees scented the evening air.
A message appeared on her phone from Emily:
Are you home?
Claire replied:
Yes.
A second message arrived almost immediately:
Are you alone?
Claire looked around the apartment.
At her favorite chair.
At the books.
At the green walls.
At the cup of coffee in her hand.
Then she typed:
No. I’m with myself.
She set the phone down.
Once, Claire had believed the worst thing she could ever hear from her husband was, “I’m leaving for another woman.”
She had been wrong.
The more frightening thing was spending years beside someone while quietly abandoning herself.
Daniel had taken what truly belonged to him.
His belongings.
His mistakes.
His new life.
Claire was left with far more than an apartment, furniture, and a coffee machine.
She had found the woman she had nearly lost during her marriage.
Herself.
And from that moment on, she had no intention of handing that woman over to anyone again.