Chapter 2
After the wedding banquet ended, I went back to the marital home to change.
The moment I opened the door, I found suitcases piled all over the entryway.
A pink suitcase had Claire's name tag hanging from it.
I checked the door lock records.
Seven days ago, Michael had set up a permanent access code for her.
The note beside it read: [family].
I pushed open the guest-room door. It had already been completely redone.
My books had been shoved into cardboard boxes and piled out on the balcony.
The sewing machine my mother had left me had been moved outside too.
Rainwater from the storm the night before had splashed all over the machine.
Claire's clothes filled the closet. Her ointments covered the entire desk.
The bedsheets had been changed to the pale pink she liked.
And on the nightstand sat a framed photo of Claire and Michael from eight years ago.
I found a cart and wheeled my books and my mother's sewing machine back into the room.
Then I sorted Claire's things into boxes and neatly placed them outside the door.
Finally, I deleted her permanent access code.
Half an hour later, Claire showed up.
The moment she saw the luggage outside the door, her expression changed. "Michael told me to move in.
"He said this would be my home too after we got married."
I looked at her quietly. "Only my name is on the deed."
Claire bit her lip. "Emily, I'm only staying for six months. Why do you have to make such a big deal out of it?
"You're a woman too. Why make things harder for another woman?"
I had no interest in listening to her guilt-trip me anymore. "Pay rent, and you can stay."
She fell silent.
That was when Michael walked through the door, carrying a bag.
Inside were my usual lactose-free bread and a cup of warm coffee.
He handed me the coffee first. "You've had a long day. Eat something."
Then he noticed the luggage by the door. "You two just had a communication problem.
"Claire staying in the guest room isn't going to affect us."
I pointed at the water stains on my mother's sewing machine. "This doesn't affect us either?"
Only then did Michael realize it was something my mother had left behind.
He immediately grabbed a soft cloth, crouched down, and carefully wiped the machine dry. "I'm sorry. I didn't know she'd moved this.
"We'll put the guest room back the way it was. She can stay at a hotel."
There was no excuse in his apology.
He even started taking my books out of the boxes and putting them back on the shelves one by one.
Claire was standing in the doorway when she suddenly clutched her shoulder.
A dark stain quickly spread across the white fabric.
As he carried her toward the door, he still remembered to call back to me. "Take care of her luggage. I'm taking her to get the wound treated."
I placed the last book back on the shelf. "Do I owe you two something?
"If she wants to live here, she can pay rent. Utilities get split.
"And while Helen's staying here, she'll have to contribute to her care too."
Still nestled in Michael's arms, Claire pulled out her phone.
Within minutes, three months' rent had been transferred into my account.
She said, "I only have this much…"
But Michael took my phone and refunded the money.
He said, "We're family. Talking about money ruins the relationship.
"Emily, you really need to work on that pushy attitude of yours."
He'd used my house to play the generous one and somehow made me the unreasonable wife in the process.
Claire glanced at me. "Michael wouldn't let me pay. I wasn't trying to take advantage of you."
"Fine," I snapped.
I turned around, went into the master bedroom, and started packing Michael's clothes into a suitcase.
His toiletries, documents, and slippers all went in too.
By the time he returned from the hospital, two suitcases were sitting outside the door.
Michael stood there, completely stunned. "Emily, what the hell does this mean?"
I answered him through the closed door, "The homeowner gets to decide who counts as family.
"If you and Claire are family, then maybe you two should live together."
His face went completely dark.
At that exact moment, a notification popped up on my phone.
It read: [The third access-permission change had been processed.]
*****
That night, Michael took Claire to a hotel.
He didn't argue with me anymore, and he didn't try to force his way inside.
A little after ten, the doorbell rang.
He was standing outside with a bag of groceries. "Can I make it up to you with a proper wedding dinner?"
I studied him for a few seconds before opening the door.
Everything he made was safe for me to eat.
Nothing raw or cold. No dairy. No spices that would make me break out in hives.
On our first date seven years ago, I'd ordered rib eye steak.
The restaurant had closed years ago, but he'd recreated it from memory.
Our marriage registration documents were spread across the table.
Our IDs, household registration papers, appointment confirmation... Everything was there.
Michael placed the ring engraved with my name beside the documents.
He said, "Tomorrow at nine. We'll go to city hall.
"Once we're officially registered, I'll change the locks. And I won't let her stay in our marital home again."
I picked up a piece of steak.
It didn't taste exactly like it had seven years ago.
But he remembered that I hadn't eaten the pepper sauce back then.
Michael looked at me. "Emily, give me one chance to make things right."
That was when his phone rang.
Claire's wound had become infected, and her temperature had climbed past 103 degrees.
Michael immediately called an ambulance for her.
After hanging up, he still sat at the dining table. "The hotel staff will take her to the hospital.
"I'm staying here tonight."
The next call came almost immediately.
The nurse said Claire had pulled out her IV and refused treatment. She kept scratching at her wound and was showing signs of a severe stress reaction.
Michael gripped his phone and stood.
He checked my documents twice.
He said, "I'm going to the hospital.
"I'll be at city hall first thing tomorrow."
Before leaving, he put my stomach medicine and a glass of warm water on my nightstand.
Even after he got to the hospital, he kept texting me.
He said Claire was hooked up to an IV.
He told me to lock the door.
He said he'd leave the hospital before eight.
At 8:20 the next morning, I arrived at city hall.
At 8:30, Michael still hadn't shown up.
At 8:50, he finally texted me.
Claire had pulled out her IV again and was insisting on leaving with him.
At 9:05, he called. "Emily, can we push the registration back until this afternoon?
"She needs me right now. I'll get her settled and come straight over."
I stared at the number on the waiting screen without answering.
The clerk reminded me that once my appointment time passed, I'd have to submit a new application.
I hung up and kept my original appointment.
The first two withdrawal requests had already passed the online review.
I completed the identity verification on my phone, then went to the property office and signed the withdrawal paperwork in person.
Finally, I went back to the registration office and canceled the appointment.
Three separate pages on my phone changed to "completed".
At 9:40, Michael finally showed up.
Claire was wearing his jacket, with a strip of medical tape still stuck to the back of her hand from the IV.
My seat was already empty.
Michael called me three times in a row.
I sent him only one message with an address. [Bring Claire with you. We need to clear everything up.]
He replied almost immediately: [Okay. Wait for me.]
He thought I'd finally agreed to this three-person marriage.
At eleven, they walked into the marital home.
A tall cabinet stood in the middle of the living room, covered with a piece of cloth.
Four sealed boxes sat beside it.
Michael stopped when he saw them. "What's all this?"
I motioned for Claire to stand in front of the cabinet. "You wanted to be Michael's wife, didn't you?
"Then today, I'm giving you everything that comes with it."
Claire instinctively stepped back.
Michael reached out to stop me.
I grabbed the cloth and yanked it off.