Thomas would be home in an hour. I decided not to argue anymore. Let her continue to believe this lie a little longer.
I went into the room, locked the door and called him.
"Hello," I said calmly. "Your mother just broke a vase and she's trying to kick me out. She claims the apartment is yours. Do you want to explain?"
A long, awkward silence followed.
"Sophie... you know how she is," he muttered. "I didn't want to upset her. I told her we bought it together. That I was the one who took the biggest risk."
"Really?" I asked. "She's trying to kick me out of my house. You've been lying for three years?"
"I just... exaggerated a little," he replied weakly. "I'm coming. We'll talk about it."
I hung up and remained motionless, listening to the drawers slam and Marta's footsteps turning in the kitchen. She had no intention of giving in—on the contrary, she was settling in, as if the apartment already belonged to her.
I left the room.
