**Tricked His Way Into Her Flat and Brought an Army of Relatives: How Emily Drew the Line**
—Emily, I’ve been thinking—Andrew lazily spread honey on his toast, as if this were any ordinary morning.—We ought to throw a proper bash this year. Go all out.
—Funny you say that—Emily smiled, pouring strong morning coffee into their mugs.—It *is* our first New Year’s together…
—Brilliant!—Andrew perked up.—I’ve decided: my parents, my sister and her husband, and their two kids are coming. Proper family celebration!
Emily froze, cup halfway to her lips. The air thickened with tension.
—Hold on… *Coming*? We agreed it’d just be us.
—Oh, don’t be daft—he waved a hand.—What’s New Year’s without family? They’ve already booked their train tickets. Sorted.
—You invited *six people* into *my* flat without asking?—Her voice was calm, but colder than a January morning.
—We *live* together now… What’s the big deal?
—Andrew, you’ve been here *two weeks*. Temporarily. While your place supposedly gets *renovated*. We’ve never even discussed moving in together. And now you’re turning my home into a family reunion hotspot?
He sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes.
—Oh, don’t start with the “boundaries” lecture. Normal people don’t fuss over this stuff. Family’s family. It’s sacred.
—Exactly. Which is why you *ask first*. You didn’t even bother. Where, pray tell, are we fitting six people in a two-bed flat?
—Well… parents in the living room, sis and hubby in your bedroom. We’ll take the blow-up bed. Already ordered it.
—*Ordered* it?—Emily’s eyebrows shot up.—Without checking if I was *okay* with it?
—Why drag it out? You’d have said yes anyway.
Emily stood, her blood boiling. Memories flashed: two years of scrimping for this flat, painting walls at midnight, agonising over every piece of furniture. And now this man—who she’d known *three months*—was turning her sanctuary into a budget B&B.
—You *do* think I’m petty, don’t you? Well, I’m tired of being *convenient*. This is *my* home. I won’t let you turn it into Grand Central.
—So I’m just a *squatter* now? Say it straight!
—You *know* the deal. We never agreed to live together. You *asked* to stay while your flat was being *done up*. Except—surprise!—there *is* no renovation. You’re renting your place out while freeloading here.
He spun around.
—Where’d you get that idea?
—Saw your listing online. Photos, address, the lot.
Andrew gaped, then spluttered:
—So what? I wanted to be closer to you… That’s normal!
—No, Andrew. *Normal* is not tricking your way in, contributing *nothing*, inviting guests without asking, and acting like I should be *grateful*.
He flushed.
—You’re just incapable of being a proper girlfriend. Ice queen.
—And you’re incapable of being an adult. You didn’t even *pay* for your grand plan. Your sister’s text? Saw that too.
He stepped back.
—You’re *spying* on me?
—I *read* when your screen lights up *right in front of me*. You’re *terrible* at hiding things. Just weirdly committed to lying.
The doorbell rang.
—That’ll be the blow-up bed—he muttered.
—Don’t answer—Emily said calmly.—I’m refusing delivery. And Andrew? Pack your bags.
—*What?*
—You heard. A relationship where one person decides *everything* isn’t my style.
—You’re *mad*!—he shouted.—You’re kicking me out over *nothing*?
—It’s not *nothing*. It’s *who you are*. You leech off people and act entitled.
She yanked his suitcase from the wardrobe and started stuffing his clothes in.
—Leave the keys in the mailbox. Taxi’s on its way.
—I’m not going!
—Oh, you *are*. You’ve got no choice.
He lunged for the suitcase, but Emily gritted her teeth.
—Get. Out. Before I call the police.
The doorbell rang again. She opened it to the delivery man.
—Afternoon. Order for Andrew?
—We don’t want it. Take it back.
—No refunds—
—*His* problem.
She slammed the door. Andrew stood pale against the wall.
—You’re really ending this? Over a *party*?
—No. I’m ending what was *never real*. Thanks for the clarity.
He left, door rattling in its frame. Half an hour later, Emily checked the mailbox. The keys gleamed at the bottom. And for the first time in ages—she breathed *easy*.
