“Good morning, Mrs. Gable,” he greeted politely. “Apologies for bothering you.”
“You are bothering me,” I stated flatly.
His eyes narrowed slightly, but that charming smile remained plastered on his face.
“My wife… she gets a bit confused occasionally. I just want to bring her back home.”
Behind me, Leo started to wail louder.
His gaze snapped instantly toward the sound.
“Sarah?” he called out, his voice turning gentle. “Sweetheart, come on. You’re making a scene.”
Sarah refused to move a muscle.
I shifted my posture to obstruct the crack in the door.
“She is staying here for a while,” I informed him.
The smile finally vanished.
“I don’t believe that’s appropriate, ma’am.”
“I believe it is.”
Silence.
The corridor suddenly felt suffocatingly small.
Then his pitch dropped an octave. The polite facade began to shatter.
“You don’t understand. She is my wife.”
“I understand perfectly.”
He stepped forward. The brass chain pulled tight.
“Open this door.”
I didn’t yield an inch. “No.”
For a heavy moment, we just locked eyes in a standoff. Then he hissed, his smile entirely erased:
“Old woman… do not interfere in matters that are none of your business.”
I let out a harsh, dry laugh.
Not because it was humorous.
But because it had been decades since I was frightened of any man.
“You chose the wrong door to knock on,” I warned him.
He slammed his flat palm forcefully against the wood. Hard.
Sarah flinched. Leo shrieked.
“SARAH!” he was aggressively shouting now. “GET OUT HERE!”
I slammed the door shut and engaged the secondary lock. The metal chain rattled against the doorframe.
My hands were shaking, but my voice was steady as stone.
“Call the police,” I commanded Sarah.
She just stared at me, paralyzed.
“I… I can’t…”
“Right now.”
She snatched up the burner phone. Her fingers fumbled clumsily, but she managed to dial the numbers.
Out in the hallway, he began kicking the door.
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