“You can’t even walk!” he sneered, standing tall beside his pregnant lover and his soon-to-be ex-wife. The words came out sharp and full of mockery, dripping with condescension as he looked down on the woman he once vowed to love. “Why are you here? Don’t you get it? Your life is over. I’ve moved on… I have a new life now.”
His tone was triumphant, as if he were the one in control, as if his betrayal had wiped away her existence. Elena didn’t respond right away. She didn’t scream or cry. She just looked at them—both of them. He was fidgeting, his shirt collar creased, a bead of sweat gliding down his forehead, looking every bit like someone hiding behind his arrogance. She, the lover, stood still, eerily composed, like a waiting room in a hospital—calm, cold, and utterly devoid of empathy. After a long silence, Elena finally spoke, her voice flat, hollow, like the beep of a heart monitor when everything stops. “So… why are you here?” He shifted uncomfortably before blurting, “I just thought it’d be better if you heard it from us first before someone else told you. We’re moving.
Into the apartment. Your apartment. Well… it used to be ours, but now…” He gestured vaguely toward her legs, like that explained anything, as though her injury had somehow forfeited her right to live with dignity. Elena didn’t flinch. Instead, she calmly reached for a folder on the nearby table and handed it to him. “Here it is,” she said simply. “Everything you need is in there. The will. The ownership transfer. It’s yours. I’m done.” He looked stunned. “You’re just giving us the apartment?” he asked. Even the other woman looked hesitant, unsure whether to believe what they were hearing. “Yes,” Elena replied. “It’s hers now.
I have other things to take care of.” He let out a short, nervous laugh. “Other things? You? You can’t even walk!” Elena closed her eyes for a moment, gathering herself. When she opened them, her gaze was calm, composed. There was no fury in her eyes—only resolve. Slowly, she pulled the blanket off her legs, untied the cane fastened to the chair, and sat upright.
One foot touched the ground, then the other. One step. Then another. Each step echoed in the room, louder than anything spoken so far. They both stood frozen. His eyes widened in disbelief. The other woman’s mouth hung open, stunned and speechless. “I was in an accident, not sentenced for life,” Elena said softly, steadily. “But that doesn’t matter anymore.”
“What do you mean it doesn’t matter?” he stammered. “The doctors… you told me you couldn’t…” “You did what was best for you,” she interrupted, “and I needed time, rest, and space—away from you. And you gave me all of that. Even if you didn’t mean to.” She walked toward the door. Before leaving, she paused and turned back to face them one last time. Her voice rang clear, crisp, like a bell cutting through the silence. “You took my home. I took your freedom.” Panic swept across their faces. “What do you mean?” the pregnant woman asked, her voice high with worry. He looked even more confused.
“What are you talking about?” Elena’s smile was tight but sure. “The file. Read it closely. Especially the last page.” And with that, she walked out, each click of her cane hitting the floor like a drumbeat of justice. Behind her, the silence wasn’t quiet—it roared in their heads. He fumbled through the file, his hands shaking.
One page. Another. When he reached the last, his face went ghostly pale. His lips parted, but no sound emerged. There, in fine print at the bottom, the clause read: “Transfer of property is only valid upon the new occupant assuming full legal custody of a child born from an extramarital relationship.” His eyes snapped up to his lover, panic rising in his chest. “You… you didn’t say anything about a child.” She looked down, her composure cracking. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Because… it’s not yours.” And in the distance, the only sound that remained was the steady, fading tap of Elena’s walking stick, growing quieter with each powerful step.
