The moment she was gone, I exhaled loudly. “Wow,” I said. “Lucky us.”
Mark just shrugged.
“You picked this place. Don’t blame me.”
“That’s not fair,” I said. “We both agreed—”
“You pushed for it,” he cut me off.
“You always do.”
He stood up, grabbed his jacket, and said he was going out for a walk. I reminded him we still had boxes to unpack, but he waved me off. “I’ll do it later.”
When the door closed behind him, the apartment fell silent.
I looked around at the half-unpacked boxes, and felt the weight of the day settle on my shoulders.
I woke up on the kitchen floor with a stiff neck and a spoon pressed into my arm. The half-unpacked box of dishes stood beside me, plates and cups piled in messy stacks.
I blinked a few times, trying to remember why I wasn’t in bed.
Mark walked into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. “What are you doing down there?”
“I guess I passed out,” I said.
“Right in the middle of sorting plates.”
He didn’t respond, just opened the fridge and poured himself some juice. I sighed, brushed off the dust from my jeans, and went to take a shower.
When I stepped out, Mark was standing by the door, already dressed and tying his shoes.
“You’re going somewhere?” I asked.
“Yeah, meeting the guys. Haven’t seen them in a while.”
“Mark,” I said, “we were supposed to go choose wallpaper today.
We both have the day off.”
“Can’t you just go on your own?”
“No. We’re supposed to pick it together. Besides, I can’t carry everything myself.”
“Fine.
Let’s get it over with.”
The trip to the store was silent. I compared colors and textures while he scrolled through his phone, barely looking up.
When I finally chose something simple, he muttered, “Sure, whatever.”
By the time we returned, I was exhausted.
“Go inside,” I told him. “I’ll show the wallpaper to Mrs. Doyle so she doesn’t make us redo it later.”
“Can’t wait to hear what she says.”
I knocked on Mrs.
Doyle’s door, she opened it just a few inches, her face sour. “It’s Saturday,” she snapped. “I told you not to disturb me on weekends.
Didn’t you read the rules?”
“I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “I didn’t know. I just wanted to check if these wallpapers are fine to use.”
Mrs.
Doyle looked at the rolls in my hands and said, “Fine. Though I expected better taste. I could’ve rented this apartment for more money, but I decided to give you a chance.
Apparently, that was generous enough.”
“Thank you. We’ll start today.”
“I’ll come by to check when you’re done,” she added.
“Oh… when we’re home, right?” I asked.
She said nothing.
“When we’re home?” I repeated.
Mrs. Doyle ignored me and shut the door in my face.
The sound of the lock clicked like a warning.
I exhaled slowly and went back inside. Mark was stretched out on the couch, scrolling through his phone.
“Seriously?” I asked. “We need to strip the old wallpaper.”
“Fine.
I’ll take the bedroom. You handle the living room.”
“Of course,” I muttered. “You always pick the smaller room.”
He didn’t answer.
We each went to work.
After a few hours, Mark’s voice cut through the silence. “Hey… come here for a second.”
When I walked into the bedroom, he was standing perfectly still in the middle of the room, eyes fixed on one of the walls.
“What is it?” I asked.
He didn’t move, just pointed.
“Look.”
My hands went cold, my breath caught halfway in my throat, and I just stood there beside him, unable to say a word.
My eyes traced the message on the wall: GET OUT OF HERE!!!
The words smeared unevenly, red and raw, stretching on the wall.
Mark swallowed hard. “We should call the police,” he said finally, his voice low.
I nodded, still staring at the wall.
My fingers trembled as I dialed. When the operator answered, I tried to explain, the writing, the paint, the apartment we’d just moved into.
The man on the line snorted softly.
“Ma’am, that’s just a prank from the previous tenants. Happens all the time. We’re not sending anyone for that.”
“But what if it’s not,” I said quickly.
He laughed.
“You want a patrol car? I can send one if you’d like to pay a fine for a false report.”
“Never mind.” I hung up.
Mark looked at me. “What did they say?”
“They laughed,” I said.
“They’re not coming.”
“Then we should talk to Mrs. Doyle.”
I hesitated. “No.
She said she wanted to rent this apartment for more money. Maybe she’s trying to scare us off. Maybe she wrote that herself.”
“Why would she go that far?”
“I don’t know,” I said, glancing back at the wall.
He sighed, already turning toward the door.
“Fine. I’ll grab water and a sponge. Let’s wash it off and get those new wallpapers up.
I don’t want to look at it anymore.”
When he left the room, I stayed. My hand reached out almost on its own, fingertips brushing the letters.
The paint was still slightly sticky, not dripping, but soft, as if it had been done in the last few hours.
I stepped back, shivering.
The next day, Mark said he had some errands and left early. The idea of Mrs. Doyle sneaking in while we were gone made my stomach twist.
I needed proof. So I drove to a store and bought a few small security cameras.
When I got home, I hid them carefully, one in the living room, one near the entrance, and one in the bedroom.
If she tried to come in again, I’d know.
That Monday, I stayed late at work. When I finally returned home, Mrs. Doyle was standing in the hallway, arms crossed.
“You and your fiancé need to control yourselves,” she said.
“What?” I blinked. “I don’t understand.”
“I know you’re engaged and young, but this is a residential building. Two hours of that racket today was too much.
Some of us like peace and quiet.”
“I was at work all day.”
“Don’t lie to me, dear. Next time, I’ll file a complaint.” She turned and disappeared into her apartment.
I stood there for a moment, stunned, then went inside. She had to be lying.
Mark wasn’t home yet, so I opened my laptop and checked the camera feed. I fast-forwarded through the morning, Mark and I were leaving for work.
Then, not long after, Mrs.
Doyle appeared on screen. She stepped inside, looked around, and then left.
My stomach tightened, but that was all she did.
An hour later, the footage showed the door opening again.
This time, it was Mark. I frowned.
He wasn’t supposed to be home.
He dropped his bag, went to the closet, and pulled out a bucket, filled with something dark red.
He took it out of the apartment and came back a few minutes later. The writing on the wall wasn’t a warning from strangers, it was his.
I leaned closer to the screen, barely breathing.
Then another figure appeared, a woman I didn’t recognize.
Younger, blonde, wearing a short red dress. She wrapped her arms around him, and he kissed her.
I watched in silence as they laughed, then kissed again.
At one point, he opened my drawer, took out a few bills, and handed them to the food delivery guy at the door.
When the woman finally left, Mark changed back into his work clothes and left the apartment like nothing had happened.
I slammed the laptop shut and sat there, staring at the wall.
When Mark came home later that night, I was waiting by the door.
“I know,” I said the second he stepped inside.
“Know what?”
“I know you wrote the message on the wall. I know you’ve been lying about work, stealing money from me, and bringing another woman here.”
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said quickly. “I just hated this apartment.
I wanted us to move somewhere cheaper, that’s all. It was supposed to push you to leave.”
“You think the writing on the wall is what matters right now? You cheated on me.
You lied. You stole from me.”
“It doesn’t have to end like this. We can fix it.”
“No, Mark,” I said.
“I already packed my things. The movers are coming for the furniture tomorrow. I paid for it, remember?”
“And what am I supposed to do?”
I took off my engagement ring and tossed it to the floor between us.
“You’ll figure it out. You never wanted to live here anyway. So soon you’ll be evicted for nonpayment.”
I walked out of the apartment, finally glad for the changes in my life, knowing I could live the way I wanted, without cheating fiancés or crazy landladies.
Tell us what you think about this story, and share it with your friends.
It might inspire them and brighten their day.
