“I think it is.”
Silence.
The hallway suddenly felt way too small.
Then his voice dropped an octave. The polite act started to crumble.
“You don’t understand. She is my wife.”
“I understand plenty.”
He took a step forward. The metal chain pulled taut.
“Open the door.”
I didn’t budge. “No.”
For a long moment, we just stared each other down. Then he whispered, the smile completely gone:
“Old lady… don’t interfere in things that are none of your business.”
I let out a dry laugh.
Not because it was funny.
But because it had been a very long time since I was afraid of any man.
“You chose the wrong door to knock on,” I said.
He slammed his open palm against the wood. Hard.
Chloe jumped. Noah screamed.
“CHLOE!” he was outright yelling now. “GET OUT HERE!”
I shoved the door shut and threw the second lock. The chain rattled against the frame.
My hands were trembling, but my voice was rock solid.
“Call the cops,” I told Chloe.
She just stared at me.
“I… I can’t…”
“Now.”
She grabbed the burner phone. Her fingers fumbled awkwardly, but she punched in the numbers.
Out in the hall, he started kicking the door.
Once.
Twice.
The doorframe groaned.
I gripped my cane tight and stood my ground in front of the entryway, even though I knew it wouldn’t do much good if he actually broke through.
“He’s going to get inside…” Chloe whispered.
“Not today,” I said.
The third kick was deafening.
Then… dead silence. Just like that.
No movement. No yelling.
We didn’t even breathe for a few seconds.
Then we heard the heavy boots again.
He walked away.
He didn’t run.
He didn’t scream anymore.
Just… walked away.
Chloe collapsed onto the linoleum and started weeping.
Not quietly.
Not hiding it. It was that deep, gut-wrenching sob of someone who had been forced to stay silent for way too long.
I sat down right next to her, Noah wedged between us.
“It’s not completely over yet,” I said softly.
She nodded. But something fundamental had shifted.