[Miss Rylance, Mrs. Eden is the tenant in the unit next to yours. She speaks without thinking. Don’t bother with her.]

[Just end the chat peacefully.]

[If you argue, she’ll complain to us again. It’ll cause even more trouble.]

After reading that, I decided not to argue. Our flat management team was usually responsible and friendly. I got along well with them. Since the manager asked, I chose to listen. So, I replied to Yvonne politely in the group chat.

[Sorry, it’s not about the money.]

[That flat isn’t empty. It belonged to my parents. They stay there often.]

[Sorry, but I’m not in a position to rent it out. Please look for another one.]

I wasn’t sure if Yvonne didn’t understand or just pretended not to. Her reply came immediately.

[Shouldn’t that get an easy solution? When your parents visit, they can just stay at your place.]

[Don’t think I don’t know about it. Your flat is a very big flat with lots of space.]

[Fifty pounds a month is a lot, Miss! You should think about it.]

My patience completely ran out at that point.

[Sorry. Please look for another place.]

It seemed to me that Yvonne sensed that I was getting angry because her next message sounded softer.

[Well, I understand. But how about this? If your parents come over, we’ll move out, all right?]

[If they want to stay, they can. I’m fine with that.]

[I’ll even deduct the rent for the days they visit. Fair deal, right?]

I almost laughed out loud at her shameless offer. But before I could reply, other flat owners started speaking up.

[What’s wrong with you? She already said she’s not renting. Why are you still bothering her?]

[Even if her house is empty, that’s her business. The law doesn’t say she has to rent it to you.]

[Why are you making trouble in the group chat in the middle of the night? Trying to bully a girl?]

It might be because of those messages, Yvonne finally went quiet. The group chat stayed silent the rest of the night. However, I woke up to the sound of someone knocking on my door the next morning.

When I opened it, a middle-aged man I’d never seen before was standing there. He was holding a handful of dried noodles and smiling widely.

“Good morning, Miss Rylance. I’m Marcus Eden, Yvonne Eden’s husband. The one from the group chat last night.”

“She was a bit rude yesterday, but I’ve already talked with her.”

“These are our homemade Shrewsbury cakes from Birmingham. Please try them.”