"Young girl like you, and this is what you do with your life? Homewrecking? Now you've got the nerve to show up at their front door."
Before I could respond, the elevator doors slid open, and Abigail walked out in a miniskirt.
The neighbor immediately rushed over to her.
"Abigail, sweetie, watch out. The other woman just showed up at your door."
"Look at her. She even knows where your spare key is..."
I froze.
Max and I had registered our marriage three years ago. We just hadn't held a ceremony yet.
And somehow I was the other woman?
Abigail's smile stiffened on her face when she heard this. She looked me up and down with curiosity.
"Excuse me, miss, are you sure you have the right place? This is my home. Mine and Max's."
"Max?"
I repeated the name, my throat so dry it ached. "Max Matthews?"
"That's right."
Abigail nodded, smugness practically dripping from her eyes.
"We've been together for three years. Moved in three years ago. Max said he'd throw me a grand wedding soon, once things settle down."
She paused, pressing a hand to her mouth in mock surprise.
"Oh, you don't... have the wrong idea, do you? Max never told me he had another girlfriend."
"Girlfriend?"
I laughed. Laughed until tears nearly spilled.
"Abigail, did you know that Max and I have been legally married for three years?"
The words landed like a bomb, detonating in the crowd of onlookers.
Every face in the hallway changed.
The woman who'd just been pointing fingers at me stood there with her mouth open, unable to form a single word.
A crack finally appeared in Abigail's composure, but she recovered quickly. She even pushed past me, walked to the shoe cabinet, and picked up a framed photo, holding it up for everyone to see.
In the frame, she and Max stood together. The background was this very living room. They were wrapped in each other's arms, smiling like they didn't have a care in the world.
"Look. This is our home."
"This place was the home he prepared for us. Every detail of the renovation, we picked out together."
I drew a deep breath and forced down the storm raging inside me.
My gaze drifted past Abigail and landed on the living room behind her.
On the couch lay a gray jacket Max always wore.
On the dining table sat two bowls. One pair of chopsticks was the wooden kind Max preferred. The other pair was pink.
The whole place was warm, cozy, thoughtfully arranged. It really did look like a home.