The Charming Landlady Novels & Stories

she murmured and all but ran out of the room, she looked like she wanted to get away from him by all means. In a short while, he heard her arguing with someone and he went out to see who it was, "but landlady, you cannot just kick me out of your house, I always pay my rent, why are you doing this" "I don't care if you always pay, someone offered me a huge amount of money for this and I'm giving it out" "Who is that person that has made you sell your conscience?" Just then, the landlady sighted Hazel and suddenly felt flustered, "just get out of my house, I give you one week" she snapped and stomped off

Damian followed behind me, hands tucked in his pockets, watching me with a half-smile that made the weight of decisions feel lighter. “It’s a wedding, Evelyn,” he teased when I squinted too hard at a flowerbed. “Not a Michelin plate.” “Wrong,” I said without missing a beat. “It’s both.” We stayed in the old stone cottage near the edge of the estate. Its shutters were the color of aged copper, and ivy clung to the walls like it had been waiting for centuries to welcome us. At night, with candles lit and French jazz on the radio, it almost didn’t feel real. But it was. We were.

When the last of the doors closed, I threw the syringe back on the floor and collapsed in the doorway, crying. I didn’t know how long I stayed there and cried, but I ended up falling asleep sitting between the living room and the hallway. “Goodness, what is this?” I felt something poke my thigh. “Lauren Walter?” The snapping of fingers beside my ear forced my eyes open, and I looked up to see Ms. Harlow, the landlady. “Oh, Ms. Harlow.” I stood up in a hurry, wiping the drool off the corner of my mouth. “Good morning. I was just—”

My phone was confiscated after Jasper, the butler, gave me a tour, and told me that it will only be given during weekends or if there is any emergency which I doubt. I could tell something else was going on in the mansion aside from the servants being abused, and I vow to find out what it is. “Hi, I'm Charity,”I introduced myself to my fellow servants. They avoided eye contact and they seemed aloof or scared to be more precise. They avoided me and scurried away. “Do not act so friendly. If I were you, while you still have a chance, I will escape and never come back.”A voice said behind me and I turned to see a woman around my age. She had beautiful chocolate skin and brown eyes.

“You are not welcome here anymore. You’ve done enough in my building. Don’t jinx it with your bad luck!” “What do you mean?” I furrowed my brows in confusion. I think I was lost in translation. “You heard me. I don’t want you here anymore.” I didn’t understand what was causing this again. I hoped her drunk husband hadn’t come to my door, professing his love again. Every time that happened, the landlady always acted out. “But my rent hasn’t expired yet.” “I don’t care. Just leave,” the landlady gritted out. “You’ve done enough damage already,” and those nosy women snickered among themselves, living for the drama in front of them.

How was I supposed to look at those people after last night? My stomach twisted. A loud knock slammed against my door. I flinched. When I opened it, my landlady stood there, eyes blazing, lips curled in disgust. “You bitch,” she spat before I could even breathe. “You shameless, useless girl!” I blinked, stunned. The insults came like bullets. “You ran off from here just to go and sleep with your sister’s husband? Shame on you! God forbid!” My mouth parted. “How—?” But I stopped.

To me, it was salvation. I don’t know why I chose this building, especially when there was a newer condo closer to the city center. Maybe it was practicality—rent here was half the price, and I needed to save every peso I could. Maybe it was punishment—some part of me that felt I didn’t deserve comfort after the way my old life had crumbled. Or maybe, deep down, I wanted to experience this—to start from the bottom, to feel every inch of the climb back up. The landlady greeted me at the entrance. She was a plump woman with warm, curious eyes, her graying hair tied back in a bun, and a faint scent of jasmine soap clinging to her clothes. She held out the keys with a kind smile.

My roommate, Claire Lane, hadn't come home in three days. Then our landlady blocked my doorway with Claire's suitcase in her arms. She said Claire had already moved out and told me to sign Claire's move-out confirmation for her. Just as I picked up the pen, rows of red text suddenly appeared before my eyes, floating like real-time comments on a livestream. [Don't sign! She never left!] [That isn't Claire's suitcase. There's evidence inside.] [The moment you sign, that paper will prove she left of her own free will.] [When the police get to the basement storage room, she'll say the key was in your hands the whole time.] The landlady pushed the pen into my hand. "It's only one signature. You'r

"Come on. Grab your bag." Elena stood there a second longer. Nobody had been this kind to her in a very long time. It felt strange, like putting on a warm coat after being cold for years. She picked up her suitcase and followed. The building was two streets away. It was tall and narrow, with a blue door and a wobbly handrail. Chloe's landlady was an old woman named Mrs. Park, who looked Elena up and down and said, "You are too thin. Eat something."

Seven years with Luke Bates, and he still can't remember that I have a seafood allergy. Yet he treats that faded lucky charm locket in his car like a sacred treasure. Inside lies a note that says, "May God bless that specific someone with top marks. If it works, I'll go vegan for three months." Luke calls it a prank by his high school buddy and tells me not to get jealous over nothing right before we register our marriage. I believe him, happily pouring my heart into planning our wedding. Then comes today. I accompany him back to his hometown for a banquet, only for a woman in a floral dress to burst through the door with tears pooling in her eyes. The elders pulled her over, their fac