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The apartment was finally hers and hers alone. Belle had thought that she would feel satisfied when the locksmith left that afternoon after placing the keys for the new locks in her hand. Instead she still felt unwelcome in the space that had been her home for the past five years, as if she were an interloper, or a squatter. She'd taken out the legal documents that confirmed she was the sole owner, but reading over the words hadn't helped.“A cuppa will make it feel better.”Going through the motions of filling the kettle and choosing a blend of tea didn't soothe the jittery feeling dancing up and down her spine and tying her shoulders and neck into knots. Wisps of steam rose from the surface of the dark liquid, trailing bergamot and orange blossom as they rose towards her nose. The scent calmed her a little, as did the warmth seeping into her skin as she cradled the cup in her hands.Still too restless to sit she stood by the floor to ceiling window in the lounge and gazed at the city. She'd fallen in love with this view the moment they had viewed the apartment. Gaston had been pleased that she was 'finally taking house hunting seriously'. She'd been looking for somewhere that felt like it could become a home; he'd only been interested in the prestige of the address. Her joke that he'd lived in a barn if it had a good zip-code had earned her a hard look and a sulky lecture about the importance of appearances in his career. His attitude was one of many red flags she had ignored, telling herself that Gaston was the practical one and she tended to have her head in the clouds. At least that was what Gaston had convinced her of.Leaning her back against the glass she looked listlessly around the sparsely furnished space. Empty hooks and slightly darker patches marked where art had hung. Gaston had bought art as an investment, with no care or thought to what was depicted. He'd won it all in the divorce. On the advice of her lawyer Belle had put up a token fight for the pieces, a negotiation tactic that had exhausted her mentally and emotionally. She'd hated all of Gaston's art and had she won it she'd had plans to burn every single canvas.Without the loathed art and all of Gaston's hi-tech toys the apartment looked bare. She'd tried to feel happy about having a blank page to style to her liking, but all the bare walls and empty floors did was underline how much she had buried her personality to become Gaston's perfect little wife. There weren't even any books on display for fuck's sake! How had she let herself live in a house where books were considered contraband and had to be hidden away?Disgusted with herself and weary of the apartment she turned back to the view beyond the window. The glittering lights of the big city had lured her from the tiny backwater town of her childhood. For a curious young girl who dreamed of adventure that tiny town where they rolled the pavement up at nine pm had felt suffocating. A city that never slept, that was brimming with culture, celebrity and possibility had seemed like a dream come true.Belle tapped her left ring finger against her tea cup. The nervous tic was silent these days, now that there was no ostentatious engagement ring and matching wedding band circling the digit. During the divorce the lack of Gaston's rings had felt empowering, but now that pale band of skin accused and jeered her, a constant reminder of the wasted five years of her life, and the hollow shell of a Stepford wife she had allowed herself to be moulded into.The city lights no longer inspired her hopes and dreams. Once upon a time she had fancied each light to be a shimmering fairy godmother, or a friendly guide who would help her on her quest to a happy and fulfilling life filled with adventure and learning. Now she saw the buzzing fluorescents and flickering neons as a source of sickness corrupting and tainting everyone who strayed into their queasy light. The city was nothing but a giant bug zapper, luring in hopeful souls and destroying them on the same lights that promised them the world.The tension thrumming within her surged. With a howling scream she hurled the now lukewarm cup of tea across the room. She wanted to see it shatter on the far wall, but she'd never had a strong throwing arm. The cup fell far short and dropped with a dull thunk onto a thick rug before bouncing onto the hardwood floor. A faint cracking sound reached Belle's ears, but was ignored as she howled and slapped her palms against the glass of the window.No one heard her screaming her pain and frustration at the gaudy lights of the city. No one would have cared if they did. Any friends she'd had drifted away after the wedding. She'd given up her career at Gaston's insistence that they should focus on his advancement. She had nothing here, not a damn thing except this bloody apartment that felt like a prison.Breathing hard Belle leaned her forehead against the glass. The stinging in her palms made her wince, but she was focused on the realisation she had just come to. There was nothing keeping her here, nothing at all. After a few deep, shaky breaths a feeling of calm settled over her. There was nothing keeping her here, so why did she stay? Moving slowly, as if haste would destroy the fragile serenity she'd finally found, she headed to her laptop. Belle had an adventure to plan.