When I went home earlier than usual, I didn’t expect to find my ex-husband in my house without my permission. His reason for being there left me surprised, and when I learned the truth behind his breaking in, it left me more shocked than I ever imagined. I wasn’t supposed to be home yet, but it was one of those rare days when my boss decided to send everyone home early.
Since it meant I was going to be home earlier than usual, I was very eager to relax. But what awaited me almost gave me a heart attack! As I pulled into the driveway of my grandfather’s old house, a place that had become my sanctuary since his move to the nursing home, I noticed nothing out of the ordinary.
But as soon as I stepped inside, a strange feeling crept over me. You know, the feeling you get when you aren’t alone but don’t see anyone else? I headed to the kitchen and placed my bag on the counter, trying to shake off the unease.
But then I heard it; a faint noise, barely audible, coming from the basement. It sounded like something metallic scraping against something solid. My heart rate quickened as I whispered to myself, “What could be making that sound?” My hands shook as I grabbed the first thing I could find, a bronze candlestick from the mantel, and lit it for light.
I bravely tiptoed toward the basement door while my heart pounded out of my chest. I hesitated for a moment, my hand hovering over the doorknob as my mind raced through the possibilities. Was it a broken pipe?
A raccoon? Or was someone in my house? With my pulse pounding in my ears, I opened the door, and the weird sound became more audible.
I crept down the stairs and didn’t bother turning the light on to avoid alerting whoever or whatever was down there. When I slowly opened the door that separated me from the strange noise… my eyes went wide when I saw HIM in front of me!
With his back to me, hunched over a small section of the floor, was Peter… my ex-husband. In his hands was a crowbar, and he was prying at what appeared to be a hidden hatch in the concrete.
I froze, gripping the candlestick, trying to process what I was seeing. Peter wasn’t supposed to be here. We hadn’t spoken much since the divorce, and certainly not enough for him to be in my house, in my basement, with a crowbar.
“Peter?” My voice came out more as a whisper than a shout, but it was enough to make him spin around. With shock etched on his face, he dropped the crowbar with a loud clang! “Jessica!” he exclaimed, his face pale as he stepped back from the hatch.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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