Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lucy had always believed that neighbors should be discreet, distant, and civilized. What she didn’t expect, when signing the lease for the small downtown apartment, was to find hell in the shape of a man living exactly on the other side of her door.

Literally on the other side.

Tim Bradford, the tenant of apartment 407, was the opposite of everything she valued: loud, rude, always ready with a sarcastic comment — and, most annoyingly, ridiculously attractive. That rugged kind of attractive that made her limbic system short-circuit. She hated him for that. For existing with that messy hair, strong arms, and deep voice that cut through walls.

And he knew it.

— That song again, Bradford? — Lucy shouted through the door, trying to study for her Cognitive Neuroscience exam. — Are you trying to bring the ceiling down with those beats?

On the other side, the volume lowered. Barely.

— It’s jazz, princess. Culture never killed anyone.

— Roadside dive bar jazz isn’t culture! — she snapped, standing up angrily. — And stop calling me princess, damn it!

She yanked the door open. And there he was, leaning against the frame, holding a coffee mug with the insolence of someone who didn’t care about anything. Not even the fact that his shirt was unbuttoned halfway down his chest.

— Wow, your veins are already popping again? It’s barely two in the afternoon, Lucy. You’ll need an IV drip of chamomile tea by five.

Lucy crossed her arms, clutching her books to her chest.

— What you need is an etiquette course. And a good psychiatrist.

Tim smiled. That damned smile.

— And you need to stop spying on me from your balcony, maybe? — he said, glancing to the side toward the thin divider between their terraces. — I saw you staring at me this morning while I was watering the plants.

— I was checking if you’d kill the cactus again! — she lied, stumbling over the words. — No one waters a cactus with an entire hose, you brute!

Before Tim could reply, an enthusiastic bark broke the tension. Kojo, the three-year-old German shepherd who lived with him, appeared at the open door, tongue out and tail wagging. Lucy instantly knelt down.

— Hey, baby… you’re the only decent living being in this apartment! — she whispered, petting his head as he flopped onto the hallway rug, belly up.

Tim chuckled.

— Look at that. Thirty seconds ago, you wanted to kill me. Now you're rolling on the floor with my dog.

Lucy looked up, still on her knees, glaring at Tim.

— Your dog is an angel. The problem is the owner. He should walk around with a “Warning: Bites” sign.

— Only if it’s your tongue doing the biting, Chen.

— Go to hell, Bradford.

She stood, gave Kojo one last pat, and slammed the door behind her. That man had the gift of stripping her of all rational thought. And that said a lot, considering she spent hours reading studies on impulse control.

Lucy Chen loved Psychology. She really wanted to understand the human mind — the traumas, the patterns, the silent pains. But not everything was so simple. Her parents — both renowned therapists as cold as stainless steel — had practically chosen the degree for her. Since childhood, she’d been molded to be “promising.” To “carry on the Chen family tradition.” There was no room for theater, which was her true passion. No space for art, or doubt, or rebellion.

So she pretended.

Pretended that her love for the field was complete, when it only filled part of her soul. The rest? She hid in texts written in the Notes app on her phone. In movies watched while crying alone. And, occasionally, in her fights with Tim — which, for some inexplicable reason, made her feel… alive.

She remembered moving into the building nearly a year ago. Remembered the first time she saw Tim in the hallway, his shirt stained with paint and a dog wrapped up in a blue leash. He’d bumped into her, muttered a “watch where you’re going,” and walked off like he owned the world. She mentally cursed him for a week.

Since then, fighting with him had become part of the routine.

That afternoon, after studying until her head throbbed, Lucy decided to have an iced coffee on the balcony. She was in sweatpants, her hair in a messy bun, when she heard Tim’s phone ring from the other side of the divider. His voice was softer than usual. Intimate.

— No, not today… I have to open the bar earlier.

(silence)

— You really think she’d understand?

(more silence)

— I don’t know… she drives me crazy all the time. But it’s like… I can’t stop.

Lucy said nothing. She pretended to scroll through her phone. But each word was a thorn.

She couldn’t see anyone on the other side. His curtain was closed. His voice was too quiet for him to be speaking to someone in another room. Must be a call. An intimate one. With a woman.

A sour discomfort churned in her stomach.

— I know it’s stupid. But every time she yells at me, all I wanna do is kiss her until she shuts up.

Lucy jumped to her feet. The coffee mug nearly flew from her hand. She went back inside without looking back.

“What am I doing?” she thought, leaning against the hallway wall.

Her heart was racing. Faster than usual. It wasn’t anger. Or was it?

It was something different. Something she didn’t want to name.

Maybe it was just hate.

Maybe.

Lucy collapsed onto the couch with a hot forehead and an even hotter mind.

Why was she eavesdropping on his conversation?

Why did she feel this… sting?

I hate him. I hate him. I hate—

But when she picked up the remote, she realized the TV wouldn’t turn on. The button didn’t work again. Second time that week.

— Damn it! — she muttered, getting up to check the fuse box.

Everything looked fine there. So the problem must be… she closed her eyes in frustration.

— …the neighbor.

She stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door. Crossed the hallway and started pounding on Tim’s door.

— Open up, Bradford! I know you messed with the floor’s electrical wiring again!

The door opened slowly, revealing Tim in a wrinkled gray T-shirt, a glass of juice in hand, and a tired look in his eyes.

— What part of “I’m not an electrician” don’t you understand?

— What part of “every time your setup shorts out, my TV dies” are you refusing to admit?

— Look, Chen, if you’re just using this as an excuse to see me shirtless, just say so.

Lucy scoffed, nearly tripping over her own rage.

— Seriously? You actually think the world revolves around your middle-aged six-pack?

— Glad you noticed. Means the workouts are paying off. Thanks for the validation.

— You’re insufferable. I don’t know how Kojo puts up with you.

— He loves me. Unlike you, who only loves what he represents — an excuse to get closer.

— Closer? To you? I’d rather hug a hairy porcupine.

— Sounds like your type.

— Only if I get to name it Bradford.

Tim laughed. This time, genuinely. Loudly.

— Look at that… you actually have a sense of humor when you stop studying other people’s brains and admit yours is a mess.

Lucy felt her cheeks heat up. From anger. Had to be anger.

— Go to hell. Your bar’s waiting.

— On my way. Work pays, you know?

— So does studying. Unlike you, I’m not surrounded by drunks and loud music.

— No. You’re surrounded by people pretending to care. At least drunks are honest.

She froze for a second. Just a second — but he saw it.

— Too bad you’re not one of them. Because if there’s one thing you are, it’s fake.

Tim raised his eyebrows. The tension climbed another step.

— Studying psychology to understand yourself or to diagnose your neighbors?

— Want a diagnosis? I can give you one. Arrogant personality disorder with unresolved alpha jerk impulses.

— Interesting. And you? Wounded princess syndrome, trying to fix the world while ignoring her own mess.

Silence fell between them. Heavy. Charged.

Even Kojo, lying behind Tim, perked up his ears.

Lucy looked at the dog. Her gaze softened.

— Sorry, Kojo. You don’t deserve to hear this nonsense.

She knelt to pet him again. Kojo flopped onto his side, as if he understood only that specific human saved him from his owner’s chaos.

Tim watched. Something in his face shifted for half a second, but he quickly composed himself.

— He only likes you because he doesn’t know your meltdown history.

— He likes me because I have a soul. Unlike you, who probably sold yours on your bar counter.

Tim stepped to the side, leaning against the frame.

— You think you know me, Chen. But you wouldn’t even know where to start.

She slowly stood, face close to his, eyes narrowed.

— And I don’t want to.

— Great.

— Perfect.

She turned around with a practiced spin and went inside. But this time, she didn’t slam the door. Just closed it gently. Like someone starting to feel something they couldn’t name.

Back in the living room, she heard Kojo bark once and then the muffled sound of Tim’s door closing. She returned to the balcony, needing air. Night was falling, and the sky was a mix of orange and gray.

And then, she heard it again.

His voice. Low.

— I don’t know… She drives me crazy all the time. But it’s like… I can’t stop.

The phrase echoed in her head.

Lucy stayed there, sitting on the cold balcony floor, hugging her knees. Pretending it didn’t hurt to hear that. Pretending it wasn’t about her.

Pretending that her name wasn’t the epicenter of the inner chaos of a man she claimed to hate.

And pretending that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t breaking inside too — without even knowing why.

Chapter Text

Tim woke up to the sound of his alarm at exactly 7:00 AM. He didn’t need to get up that early—not that day—but the military habit left no room for laziness. It was as if his body obeyed before his mind—and the mind, well… the mind was never at peace.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he rubbed his face and let out a heavy sigh. Another day. Another round with destiny—or with the neighbor from hell across the hall.

He got up, threw on a dark gray T-shirt, and walked into the kitchen to feed Kojo. The dog followed him, tail wagging, always faithful, always quiet.

- At least you get me, huh, buddy?

Kojo barked once, as if confirming. Tim gave a half-smile.

While the coffee machine hissed, Tim’s eyes landed on the front door. The memory of the night before hit hard: Lucy Chen, lying on the balcony, listening to him without knowing he was talking about her. He didn’t know if she had heard, but just the thought that she might’ve made his stomach twist.

Lucy.

The tenant from hell.

Owner of the irritating laugh, the sharp comebacks, the overly quick footsteps in the hallway. The one who stole all of Kojo’s attention and every good moment of silence.

And yet…

He knew how her hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders.
He knew she used lavender shampoo.
He knew her eyes were the color of dark chocolate.
And he also knew how every dress, every tight pair of pants clung to her body in exactly the right places.

Tim took a deep breath. He opened the balcony door for some air. And of course, there she was.

Lucy. In a robe, hair tied in a messy bun, coffee cup in hand.

She saw him. And scoffed. He scoffed too, louder.

- You gonna keep staring or did you forget how to take the stairs? - she teased, without even really looking at him.

- Just trying to understand how someone with a master’s degree in sulking manages to live with herself.

- Just trying to understand how someone so dumb managed to sign a lease.

- Funny, I think you’re the dumb one for renting from the same agency.

She rolled her eyes and took a sip of coffee.

- Go to work, Bradford. The city needs drunks served by someone dumber than they are.

- And what are you studying today? How to fake empathy in ten steps?

She raised her middle finger and went back inside. He let out a low chuckle.

God. She was chaos.

Later, after stopping by the bar to sort out inventory issues, Tim met up with Grey, his partner and old friend from the army. The bar, Last Call, had become one of downtown’s hottest spots. Good music, decent food, strong drinks. Everything carefully planned to work.

- Angela’s covering tonight? - Tim asked, scanning one of the inventory spreadsheets.

- Yep. Said she wants to talk to you about the acoustic night idea. Want to set a time?

- Call me later. I’m heading out a bit early.

- You good?

Tim hesitated.

- I’m fine. Just… tired.

His partner nodded with that look that didn’t pry but understood.

Back at the apartment, he changed clothes and decided to go out again. Kojo stayed behind, content after two walks in a row.

On the way out, he ran into Lucy in the hallway. She had a backpack slung over one shoulder, her phone in hand, and a notebook tucked under her arm.

-Saving the world today, Doc?-  he teased, leaning against his door.

- Unlike you, I contribute to society. Or at least I try.

-Oh, right. Because listening to teens complain about their boyfriends is essential to human evolution.

She brushed past him, shoulder to shoulder.

- Better than encouraging alcoholism with gin shots and barroom wisdom.

- At least the drunks know what they want.

- You’ve never known what you wanted in life, have you, Tim?

Her voice came out lower. Closer to something that hurt.

He stopped for a second. His jaw clenched.

-I did once. And look where that got me.

She looked at him for two seconds. Then walked off, heels clicking against the cold hallway floor.

By late afternoon, he left the bar in Angela’s capable hands. He wandered the downtown streets with his hands in his pockets and his mind racing. As he passed the university square, he saw it.

Lucy. With a guy whose hair was meticulously styled, wearing a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and an annoyingly charming smile.

Tim stopped. Pretended to check his phone. And he heard it.

-…so I’ll pick you up at eight then, yeah?- said the guy—Chris, apparently.

- Sounds good,-  Lucy replied, laughing.

A laugh Tim knew. But it had never been meant for him.

His blood boiled.

But he turned around and kept walking. Without a word. Without understanding why it burned so much.

She was just the annoying neighbor. That’s all. Just that.

So why did it feel like the ground had shifted under his feet?

The apartment was dark when Tim came in. Kojo greeted him with his cold nose brushing against his leg. Tim smiled, crouched down, and gave him a quick pet.

- At least someone around here treats me like a decent human being, huh?

He headed straight to the kitchen, opened the fridge, grabbed a water bottle and drank deeply. Then he collapsed onto the couch like someone carrying the weight of the world—or maybe just the irritation of seeing Lucy with another man.

He turned on the TV, flipped through the channels, but nothing really grabbed his attention. Kojo jumped on the couch beside him and rested his head on Tim’s leg.

The peace didn’t last long.

CLACK.

The door across the hall slammed shut. He didn’t even have to look. He knew exactly who it was.

- Of course. Drama queen’s back,- he muttered, rubbing his face.

He checked the time. It was past ten. Angela should be closing up the bar. And, as if summoned, his phone buzzed on the table.

Angela.

He answered on the second ring.

- Closed up. Everything’s good here. I’ll send you the numbers in the morning, okay?- she said, to the point.

- Great. Thanks for holding down the fort today.

- You okay? You seemed off when you left.- Angela paused, then added in that teasing tone she had perfected. - Or does this have something to do with your hellish neighbor?

Tim chuckled without humor.

- ‘Hellish’ doesn’t even begin to cover it, Angela. That woman… it’s like the universe is punishing me for something I did in a past life. I swear to God.

- You talk about her with so much passion, Tim. That’s not hate—that’s repressed lust.

- Lust? I just want her to move to another continent. She drives me crazy just by breathing.

- And you, the picture of serenity,-  Angela mocked. - Why don’t you try, I don’t know, being nice to her?

- Because it’s impossible to be friends with someone who provokes you just by saying good morning. She’s…

He stood up from the couch, walking to the balcony.

- She’s the devil incarnate. Sassy, smug, unbearable. She could be a chaos agent sent to torture me to death.

- Or to teach you how to live. Who knows? Angela replied, but his mind had already drifted elsewhere.

Outside, the night air was cooler. Tim leaned an elbow on the balcony railing and took a deep breath.

- She only knows how to fight. Every time we meet, it’s war. She always has a comeback. A cutting look. A sharp mouth…

That’s when he noticed. From the corner of his eye, he saw the silhouette on the next balcony over, sitting with a blanket in her lap and an open book she clearly wasn’t reading.

Lucy.

Shit.

He didn’t know how much she’d heard. But instinctively, he straightened up and ran a hand through his hair.

- So, Angela,-  he said a little louder, just to see what happened. - How are you still single, huh?

He saw it—the subtle movement of Lucy’s head turning his way. He pretended not to notice.

- Smart, beautiful, independent woman… hard to believe.

Silence on the other end.

- You’re trying to make me uncomfortable just to get under your neighbor’s skin, aren’t you?

-Of course not,- he said, barely hiding a grin.

- Idiot,- Angela laughed. -I’m hanging up before you dig yourself deeper. Good night, Bradford. Sweet dreams of your little demon.

- Screw you.

He hung up.

And before he could breathe easy, her voice cut through the night like a blade:

-Angela, huh? Pretty name.

He turned slowly.

-Eavesdropping now?

- It’s hard not to when the walls are thin and the ego’s thick,-  she shot back, book now closed in her lap.

-Don’t worry. I won’t share details. Conversation’s over.

- Not interested.

- Didn’t seem like it, with the way you tilted your head like an owl.

-Screw you, Tim.

-You first, Lucy.

She stood, gathering her blanket.

-I just wanted one peaceful night.

- And I just wanted a neighbor who wasn’t made of pure provocation and venom.

- Funny… because you’re made of boredom and frustration.

She slammed the balcony door shut behind her.

Tim stayed out for a few more minutes. Looking at the sky. Feeling his chest ache.

He didn’t know why this all got to him so much.

But he knew that, as much as he hated to admit it…

Lucy Chen was the only thing that made his routine remotely interesting.

And that infuriated him.

As Lucy’s balcony door slammed with a dry thud, Tim let out a long sigh. The kind that doesn’t ease anything, just confirms the weight already there.

He stepped back inside in silence, turned on a soft kitchen light, and walked over to the counter where he kept a half-empty bottle of whiskey. He poured two fingers into a glass, downed it in one go, and felt the burn as it slid down.

Kojo followed quietly, lying at the foot of the couch like he knew his owner’s bitter midnight ritual all too well.

Tim dropped onto the couch again, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

All the antagonism with Lucy, all that constant anger that burned through his veins like acid… he knew it wasn’t just about her.

She had only ignited what was already there.

Isabel.

The name still tasted like rust.

He had poured himself into that woman. Tried to save a marriage that was already dead while she smiled behind his back at another man. He had believed there was still time, that if he changed, if he just did more… she’d stay.

But she didn’t.

She left like he was disposable. Like none of it had meant enough to make her stay.

And he was left behind.

With the bar he opened to try to start over.
With the dog he adopted to try to fill the silence.
And with a deep, dull rage at anything that resembled bonds, promises, or any woman daring to get too close.

Lucy…

She was just the perfect catalyst.

Too beautiful, too bold, too alive.

Everything Isabel had been in the beginning.
Everything he’d sworn he’d never let himself admire again.

That’s why he hated Lucy.

Because she made him feel.

Even when he fought not to feel anything at all.

He ran a hand over his face and murmured:

-This is all such bullshit, Kojo. Complete bullshit.

The dog let out a heavy sigh, as if agreeing.

Tim stood up, walked into the bedroom, and closed the door.

Tomorrow would be another day.
Another day pretending he didn’t care.
Another day of provoking his neighbor until she wanted to kill him.
Another day trying to forget that, deep down, a part of him… still hurt.

Chapter Text

The morning dawned quiet.

The kind of quiet that felt forced. As if the universe had decided to offer a truce before dropping the next bomb.

Lucy opened her eyes slowly, messy hair stuck to her cheek. The clock read just past 8 a.m. For the first time in weeks, there were no heavy footsteps echoing through the hallway. No slamming doors, no complaints bleeding through the walls.

Strange.

She got up. Waited to hear something.

Nothing.

She made her coffee and decided to sit on the balcony, the steaming mug warm in her hands.

There he was.

Tim Bradford.

Sitting on his own balcony, gray shirt stretched over broad shoulders, one earbud in, talking on the phone.

But he wasn’t yelling. Wasn’t laughing loudly. Wasn’t provoking.

He spoke softly. Short sentences. Words she couldn’t fully catch but seemed to involve logistics, deadlines, and something about a “schedule change.”

“Must be sorting stuff out for the bar,” she thought, nibbling the rim of her cup, almost disappointed by the lack of drama. She knew he owned a bar but never cared enough to find out which one.

— Unbelievable — she murmured, watching him smirk at the end of the call. — Even his posture is more civilized today. He’s sick.

But he didn’t look at her. Not a single taunt. Not one snarky comment.

He ended the call, stood up, and went inside. She stayed there, slightly bothered by the sudden silence — and didn’t know why.

Minutes later, Lucy also stood up, got dressed, grabbed her backpack, and left. She walked past his door with the caution of someone passing a dormant volcano — still dangerous. And still, nothing.

No presence imposing itself in the hallway.

It was, without a doubt, a strange day.

The lack of motivation followed him the whole way to the bar.

Tim entered through the back door and let out a sigh. His head was somewhere else, though he pretended it wasn’t. His body moved on autopilot — checking stock, reviewing schedules, texting suppliers. But it all felt muffled, unimportant.

Angela showed up soon after, sunglasses on her face and a mischievous grin.

— Slept with the devil last night, huh? — she teased, raising an eyebrow.

Tim rolled his eyes, not in the mood.

— Not in the mood for your jokes today.

She stared at him for a few seconds, more serious than usual.

— What happened?

He shrugged.

— Nothing. Just… wasn’t feeling it today. I couldn’t even fight with Lucy this morning.

— Lucy now? It’s a proper name all of a sudden? — Angela jabbed with a grin.

He huffed.

— It is her name, isn’t it?

Angela burst out laughing.

— Oh my God. This is going to be good.

Tim didn’t reply. He didn’t want to fuel the topic. And worse, he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

About the quiet.

The way she sat on the balcony, hair tied up messily, face clean, calm, a slight frown of focus between her brows.

Hell, she looked… pretty.

Pretty in an infuriating way.

Pretty in a way that pissed him off.

He shook his head and dove into the bar counter, washing glasses just to have something to do with his hands.

Night fell with rare coolness.

The bar was packed. People coming in, laughing loud, music playing at just the right volume — enough to set the mood, but not drown out conversations. Tim worked behind the bar, towel over his shoulder and his patience lukewarm.

That’s when he saw her.

Lucy.

Standing in the doorway for a few seconds like she owned the place.

The world lost color for half a second.

The red dress.

Tight, short. Hugging all the right places.

Teasing neckline. Bare back.

Hair up in a voluminous do, cascading in soft waves that framed her face like it had been designed.

Lips red as sin.

And her eyes?

Glowing with excitement, expectation. Sweet irony.

She walked in, slow, elegant steps, her heels clicking on the bar’s wooden floor. And behind her, like a predicted disaster… Chris Sanford.

— Ah, shit — Tim muttered, tense.

Angela approached from the side, curious at his fixed gaze.

— What is it? — she nudged him lightly.

Tim didn’t answer. But his eyes burned in Lucy’s direction.

Angela followed his gaze and slowly smiled, almost wickedly.

— Oh… it’s her.

— Who?

— Your neighbor. The infamous Lucy. It’s her, right?

Tim just shot a grumpy look.

Angela’s grin widened.

— Wow, Tim. The girl’s a knockout. You never told me your rival was a goddess.

He clenched the towel on his shoulder.

— She’s just pretty. Doesn’t change the fact she’s unbearable.

Angela leaned on the counter, watching Lucy laugh at something Chris said.

— And the guy?

Tim grimaced.

— A wannabe man. Buttoned-up. The poster boy of superficial.

— Jealous?

— Disgusted — he replied too quickly.

Angela laughed again.

— Tim, your eyes are glued to her. It’s obvious.

He pretended to ignore it, but it was useless. Every one of Lucy’s gestures, every laugh, every flick of her hair. He noticed it all.

And it consumed him inside like oil fire.

Angela went to tend a table.

Tim, behind the counter, had been “cleaning” the same glass for over five minutes. His eyes fixed on Lucy and the… “buttoned-up guy.”

Chris talked too much. Laughed too loud. Sat like he owned the world. And Lucy… well, Lucy smiled. But it was a smile… lacking truth.

Angela returned, leaning against the counter, arms crossed and one brow raised.

— She’s bored — she said casually.

— Hm?

— The girl. Your neighbor. Lucy. She’s on autopilot. Twirling her hair every two minutes, swirling her finger around the rim of the glass. And every time you look at her, she notices.

Tim grumbled something unintelligible.

— Oh, and there’s more. — Angela nudged his arm. — She knows when you’re watching. She’s playing with you, big guy.

— Playing?

Angela smiled.

— She knows what she’s doing. When you look, she crosses her legs slowly, leans into the neckline, tilts her head so her hair falls just right… and now she’s reclining on the table.

Tim bit his lip.

— That doesn’t mean anything.

— It means if you don’t move, Mr. Buttoned-Up’s taking the prize. And you’ll be stuck here, serving whiskey and swallowing your frustration with ice.

Tim narrowed his eyes.

At the table, Lucy leaned back, laughing at something Chris said — but her gaze cut through the bar and landed on his.

For a second, it felt like the world stopped.

She held the stare, defiant.

Cruel.

Beautiful.

And then she crossed her legs.

Tim tossed the towel on the counter and walked out.

Angela laughed behind him.

— This is gonna be fun.

She felt her stomach twist the moment she saw Tim step out from behind the bar.

“What is he doing?”

His eyes were darker than usual. More intense. Lucy’s whole body reacted before her brain could process what was coming.

Chris was still talking about some startup, investments or… some useless thing.

But he was abruptly cut off when Tim stopped beside the table.

— Hope the conversation’s as thrilling as it looks — Tim said with a sarcastic smile.

Chris blinked, confused.

Lucy raised an eyebrow.

— You serving tables now, Bradford?

— No. Just checking if anyone needed rescuing from a medically induced coma.

— Go to hell — she muttered, already standing.

But Tim stepped forward, and before Lucy could process it, she was lifted off the ground.

— What the hell are you doing?! — she shouted, pounding on his shoulder with closed fists. — Put me down, you caveman!

— Saving you from a mediocre date — he growled, walking with her slung over his shoulder toward the side room.

— Put me down now, you giant idiot!

Customers started turning to look. Angela was laughing behind the bar.

He shoved open the back room door, kicked it shut, and set her down firmly.

Lucy shoved him hard.

— Have you lost your mind?!

— That guy’s not a man for you — he said, voice low, almost husky.

She blinked, stunned.

— Who do you think you are to decide who is or isn’t man enough for me?

The space between them was far too small.

She could feel his heat.

Could hear his uneven breath.

Even in heels, she was many inches shorter.

A strand of her hair fell forward.

Instinctively, he reached up and tucked it behind her ear with a gentleness that clashed with the explosion seconds earlier.

The touch was a spark.

Lucy held her breath.

Tim froze too.

Eyes locked on hers.

His gaze dropped, as if against his will, to her lips.

And then… he kissed her.

It wasn’t gentle.

It wasn’t slow.

It was like two worlds colliding.

Shock, rage, desire, confusion — all in a kiss that consumed them whole.

Lucy responded with equal intensity. She pulled him by the collar, pressed her body against his, bit his lower lip like it belonged to her.

He lifted her again, this time with burning desire, and placed her on a wooden countertop.

She clung to him, legs around his waist, hands gripping his broad back as if trying to tear the hatred from his chest.

The kiss was a fight.

And the fight was a kiss.

Wild. Necessary. Uncontrollable.

When they finally pulled apart to breathe, faces still close, he tried to speak.

— Lucy…

But she froze.

One second.

Two.

And then she shoved him hard.

— No! — she said, breathless. — Don’t do this.

She jumped off the counter and bolted out of the room, heels echoing on the wooden floor, red dress vanishing down the hallway like a battle flag.

Tim stood frozen.

Breathing ragged.

Pulse racing.

Heart a mess.

And the only word he could whisper… was her name.

— Lucy…

Lucy crossed the bar’s floor in hurried steps, almost tripping over her own feet, her heels hitting hard against the wooden floor. She didn’t look back. She could barely breathe. The air felt heavy, as if she were still trapped in that kiss — in that touch. In the heat of his mouth, in the strong hands on her waist, in the muffled sound of her name on his lips.

She only knew she had to get out of there. Now.

The bar’s door swung open when she pushed through, and she quickly disappeared onto the sidewalk, vanishing into the night as if she were running from herself.

Chris, confused, took a few seconds to realize what was happening. Frowning, he got up and walked to the counter where Angela was organizing some glasses.

— Hey… sorry, but… did you see where Lucy went? She seemed… nervous.

Angela raised an eyebrow. Crossed her arms.

— You didn’t notice the smudged lipstick?

Chris blinked.

— Lipstick…?

— Smudged. And she ran out. Something happened in that little room and, look… — she smiled with sarcasm — I’m pretty sure you won’t be needed tonight anymore.

— What do you mean?

— Relax, sweetheart. You lost before you even began.

At that moment, she saw Tim returning from the hallway. His face still flushed, a bit sweaty, his eyes a storm of guilt, anger, and something she knew well: unresolved desire. And there, right on the side of his jaw, a screaming red smudge.

Angela nodded toward him with her chin.

— You should go home — she said softly. — Talk to her. Or at least try not to make it worse.

Tim ran a hand over his face, noticing the lipstick. He wiped it off with the back of his hand, irritated.

— I think I’d better wait. Give it some time. She needs to get home and forget I exist for a few hours. I just… I don’t want her to hear me coming into the apartment.

Angela let out a sigh and murmured:

— You two are going to destroy each other.

Tim didn’t answer. He simply took off his apron, hung it behind the bar, and left through the back door, avoiding the main sidewalk.

Lucy entered the apartment and locked the door as if she were escaping an earthquake. She dropped her purse on the floor, kicked off her shoes like they were burning her feet. Her fingers trembled.

She went to the hallway mirror. Her lipstick was smudged. And her heart was still beating as if it were trying to escape her chest.

She ran her hand over her lips.

The kiss was still there. The feel of his lips, the touch on her face, the way he grabbed her by the waist… Everything had felt so right in that moment, even coming from the man she hated. Or thought she hated. Hated?

“No. I hate him. Of course I do.”

But… it wasn’t just hate she felt when he touched her.

It was heat.

It was urgency.

It was chemistry.

Lucy wrapped herself in a blanket and went out to the balcony, sitting in a corner against the wall, out of sight of anyone on the next balcony.

She didn’t want to be seen. But she needed air.

Her head leaned back against the cold wall. Her heart still racing. The memories of the kiss burning like fire under her skin.

From the other side of the wall, she heard it.

Tim’s balcony door opened.

She held her breath, instantly still.

The sound of the dog whimpering followed, as if he sensed his owner’s confusion. Kojo. She recognized that sound.

And then… his voice.

Low, tense.

But he wasn’t talking to the dog.

The phone rang and he answered on speaker, like he always did when he was alone.

— Voicemail from Angela Lopez.

Her voice echoed into the balcony.

— “Stop being an idiot, Bradford. You’re too old to be hiding like a kid. If you don’t fix this now, you might lose the chance to make it work. The girl won’t wait forever, and you know that. So get up and fix it. Before it’s too late.”

Silence.

She heard his breath deepen. And then the sound of the balcony door closing.

Footsteps.

The bedroom door shutting soon after.

Lucy pulled the blanket tighter around her face, as if she could hide from herself how much that kiss had affected her. How much that voice still echoed inside her. How much his touch was still imprinted on her skin.

And how, even though she hated everything he stood for… she didn’t want to forget that moment.

Chapter Text

Lucy woke up before the alarm. The sun hadn’t fully risen yet, but the soft light filtering through the blinds painted golden stripes on the opposite wall. She stayed in bed for a few more seconds, her heart racing, her body still under the effect of the touch she couldn’t forget.

That kiss.

The taste.

The anger mixed with desire.

The feeling of his body pinning hers against the counter, those large hands gripping her waist like they wanted to leave a mark.

He took her breath away.

Lucy slowly sat up, knees bent under the comforter, and ran her hand over her lips as if she could still feel Tim’s mouth on hers. The shiver came so fast it made her tremble.

— No. No. No. — she murmured to herself. — That didn’t happen. We hate each other. It was just a... miscalculation.

She swung her legs out of bed and forced herself to stand. She needed to put on her mask — the one she wore every day to survive her parents’ expectations, the college she never really wanted, and most of all… the hell of a neighbor who stole her sanity one shout at a time.

She washed her face with cold water and stared at herself in the mirror. The same expression as always. Neutral. Controlled. But her eyes?

Her eyes said more. They said she liked it. A lot.

She put on dark jeans, a loose white t-shirt, and threw a beige cardigan over it. Her hair was tied in a messy bun, a few strands falling on the sides.

When she opened the door, the hallway was silent.

Weird.

She stepped out carefully, expecting to hear Tim’s usual door creak or a sarcastic grunt — but nothing. The universe seemed on pause.

As she walked down to the balcony with her coffee-and-milk mug in hand, Lucy stopped. Tim was on his balcony. Sitting, phone to his ear, speaking too softly for her to hear anything. He didn’t see her.

She watched for a moment. Messy brown hair, tight black shirt on wide shoulders, the posture of someone carrying too much weight. He looked… human.

But only for a second.

As soon as he hung up and she moved, Tim noticed her presence. His eyes met hers. One second. Two. Neither said anything.

She raised her eyebrows, feigned boredom, took a sip of coffee, and went back inside.

Mask on.

*

Moments later, they were face to face again, like a storm waiting for the smallest gust of wind to break.

— Not going to say “good morning,” neighbor? — Tim’s voice was laced with cynicism.

— You already ruined my coffee with that look. No need to ruin the rest of my morning with your voice — she replied without even glancing at him.

— I knew it. The silence was too good to last.

— Funny… that’s what I thought when I saw you shirtless last week. Too bad silence doesn’t cover your arrogance.

Tim narrowed his eyes. The corner of his mouth almost curved into a smile, but he swallowed it quickly.

— And you think childish provocation makes you sound smart?

— No, but it’s fun. Especially with you — you get irritated as easily as a dog with a tight collar.

He stepped forward.

She didn’t flinch.

— One day, Chen, you’re going to choke on your own tongue.

— And you’ll be right there clapping, huh?

— Maybe I’ll be the one to shut you up before that happens.

Lucy arched an eyebrow, staring him down. The tension was different. Still angry, but also… something more.

They both felt it. And both denied it.

— You’re going to be late for your pathetic little bar — she said, turning away.

— And you for your spoiled doll school.

She slammed the door harder than necessary. Tim stayed there, face still hot.

That woman was hell.

*

Lucy needed air. And also sugar. And maybe an excuse not to go home right away. The coffee shop-bar a few blocks from their building seemed perfect.

She picked a table in the corner, facing away from the entrance, and ordered a chai latte with a chocolate croissant. She pulled her books from her bag and dove into her neuropsychology material, trying to focus, but her body refused. That kiss with Tim crept into every paragraph.

It was only when the bell over the door rang that something in her reacted.

But she didn’t turn. She kept reading — or pretending to.

Tim walked in with his hands in his jacket pockets. The café belonged to an old army friend, and he always stopped by when he needed to escape the bar. He just didn’t expect to see… her.

She was facing away, hair down, cardigan slipping off her shoulders. That relaxed posture only made her body more… tempting.

He hesitated. He could leave. Pretend he didn’t see her.

But no.

He went to the counter, grabbed a berry muffin, and walked over to her.

— This suits you — he said, placing the plate on the table.

Lucy slowly lifted her eyes. One second of shock, then the mask.

— Great. Now you’re a muffin delivery guy?

— I can eat it if you’d prefer. — He sat down uninvited.

— What do you want, Tim?

— Maybe peace. Maybe to tease you. Depends on how you act.

She crossed her arms, observing him. Same old game. But something felt… different.

— You’re impossible — she said.

— You’re unbearable.

— Perfect. We’re even.

His gaze dropped to her lips for a moment. She noticed. Then she crossed her legs slowly — on purpose.

Tim went quiet for two seconds.

— That supposed to be provocation?

— Just getting comfortable. Bothered?

— Not at all. I like a good fight.

Lucy leaned over the table slightly.

— You never win, though.

He smirked.

— Maybe I will today.

She raised an eyebrow.

— I doubt it.

Tim pointed with his thumb.

— There’s a spot upstairs that’s not open yet. Kind of a lounge — rustic, low lighting, couches… Thought you, as a stressed-out student, might enjoy checking it out.

She hesitated.

But her body already said yes.

— Only if you promise not to kidnap me again.

— No promises — he replied with a grin.

She stood, grabbed her chai latte, and followed him up the stairs.

*

The stairs led to a mezzanine still closed to the public, with a high dark-wood ceiling, warm pendant lights, and a large window overlooking the street. In the center, beanbags, soft pillows, rugs, and two low, wide sofas. The place oozed comfort and calm.

But nothing inside Lucy Chen was calm right now.

— Wow — she said, taking it in. — It’s beautiful. Smells new.

— It’s not open yet. My friend wants to use it for private events, readings, resting… Stuff you’d do, like… I don’t know, scribble nonsense in a notebook.

— How kind of you — she replied with a crooked smile. — You have an amazing gift for being both an ass and charming. Must be a talent.

Tim leaned against the wall near the door, arms crossed, studying every detail of her. The way her hair fell down her neck, how the t-shirt clung slightly to her chest as she stretched to look out the window.

He didn’t want peace. He wanted war. The war of having her in his arms.

— You’ve been teasing me all day, you know that?

She turned slightly, surprised by his tone shift.

— Teasing you gives me pleasure, Bradford. You know that?

— I know. I just didn’t know it turned me on this much.

Lucy felt the air change. They were just steps apart, and she felt her body reacting like something inevitable was about to happen.

And it was.

Tim stepped forward and cornered her against the side wall, tall and rugged. One hand rested beside her head.

— You wanna play, Chen?

She held his gaze, heart pounding.

— Only if you can handle it.

— I can handle anything. As long as it’s with you.

Lucy’s breath caught. He moved closer. Their noses almost touched.

— But now I’m in charge. Got it?

She bit her lower lip, dark eyes blazing.

— Got it.

— Then say it. — His voice was a low growl. — Who’s in charge?

She swallowed hard. Heat rising from her chest to her face.

— You.

He pressed his lips to the curve of her neck, beard grazing her skin, whispering:

— Good girl.

Lucy let out a loud gasp, like he’d pressed some hidden button.

Tim grabbed her waist and spun her, pressing her against him. The kiss came like lightning — strong, urgent, desperate. Their mouths clashed, tongues battling, teeth scraping, hands roaming with a hunger long held back.

He lifted her by the thighs, and she clung to his shoulders, legs wrapping around his waist. Tim laid her forcefully on the sofa, his body over hers, breath ragged.

— You drive me insane — he said, eyes locked on hers. — Every fight, every time you challenge me… I’ve wanted to shut you up like that since day one.

— And I’ve wanted you to pin me like this since our first hallway argument.

He grinned — that cruel, intoxicating grin.

— You like being ordered around?

— I like it when it’s you.

Tim gripped her hips tightly.

— Good girl.

She moaned softly.

He slowly pulled her shirt up, exposing her stomach, the bra beneath. Kissed every inch, beard scraping, sending shivers. When she reached for him, he grabbed her wrists.

— Not today. Stay still for me.

She bit her lip, pleading eyes.

— Yes, sir.

He backed off just to remove his shirt and undo his belt. Chiseled abs, defined arms, eyes blazing.

— You’re perfect — he murmured, leaning in. — So beautiful… so mine now.

Lucy pulled him by the waistband of his pants, desperate, and they went back to kissing like the world was collapsing.

He undressed her with precise hands—slow, but firm. She squirmed at every touch, completely surrendered.

— You're wet just from my commands, aren't you?

— I am… God, Tim…

— Say it again.

— I'm wet just from your commands, Tim.

He smiled, pride written all over his face.

— That’s it. Good girl.

Lucy moaned loudly, her eyes shutting like his words were a physical trigger.

When he entered her, the world fell apart. She arched, her nails digging into his shoulders, her body moving in a synchronized, primal rhythm. He dominated her, but he also adored her. With each thrust, with each kiss, he whispered:

— Beautiful.

— Mine.

— That’s it.

— Moan for me.

— Good girl.

Lucy was lost, her whole body hypersensitive, her senses intoxicated. There was no more hatred there. Only heat, urgency, the combustion of a year of built-up tension.

When they both reached climax, she screamed his name with her head thrown back, and he buried his face in her neck, his body trembling.

The silence that followed was made of ragged breaths and erratic heartbeats.

She was still lying on the couch, her body sweaty, hair messy, eyes closed.

Tim watched her like someone who had just crossed a line and knew there was no going back.

And in that moment — she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
*

Lucy was still lying on the couch, her naked body covered only by Tim’s shirt, which he had draped over her. The fabric still smelled like wood, smoke, and mint — it smelled like him.

Tim was sitting on the floor, his back leaning against the arm of the couch, shirtless, sweaty, his breathing gradually slowing. He stared at nothing, his jaw clenched, as if fighting off an uncomfortable thought that refused to leave.

Lucy broke the silence with a hoarse voice:

— That… wasn’t just sex, was it?

He slowly turned his face to look at her. His gaze was serious. Intense.

— I don’t know what that was, Lucy.

She sat up slowly, pulling the shirt tighter around her shoulders. Her tangled hair fell over her face, and she pushed it back with a nervous hand.

— Because it was… a lot. All at once. — She swallowed hard. — I’m still shaking.

— Me too.

More silence. Not the same as before. Now it was thick. Almost uncomfortable.

Lucy rubbed her knees, curled up.

— Was that a mistake?

Tim didn’t answer right away. His blue eyes got lost in hers. He looked like he wanted to say yes. But he couldn’t.

— It was inevitable.

— That’s not an answer.

— It wasn’t a mistake. — He finally said. — But it was a mess.

Lucy let out a nervous laugh.

— Yeah, well, making a mess is something we’re good at.

Tim stood up, picked up his pants from the floor, and began dressing in silence.

She watched him, trying to understand what would come next.

— And now? — she asked quietly.

He ran a hand through his hair, visibly tense.

— Now we go back to reality. You go to your classes. I go to my bar. And we keep hating each other. It’s safer that way.

— Oh, sure. So much healthier to ignore the best sex of your life and pretend you don’t want to do it again every single day.

He stopped. Turned.

— Don’t provoke me.

— You started it.

She was standing now, still wearing his shirt. The two of them face to face. Again.

— I’m trying not to complicate things, Lucy.

— You already did. The moment you called me a good girl while fucking me like a wild animal.

Tim closed his eyes for a second, as if the words had hit a nerve.

— You think this is easy for me? I don’t do this. Not with neighbors. Not with someone who… throws me off balance.

— And why not? — she challenged, stepping closer. — Because I make you lose control?

— Because I already lost everything once, and I’m not willing to lose again. And with you… everything feels way too risky.

She looked at him. Her heart pounding.

— I’m not her, Tim.

— I know you’re not. And that’s what makes it worse.

They were just inches apart again, but now desire gave way to something else. Fear. Truth.

Tim stepped back before he got lost in her eyes again.

— Get dressed. We need to leave before they lock the place up.

Lucy slowly picked up her clothes. When she passed by him, she paused for a moment, her voice low:

— Next time you call me a good girl… be ready. I’m not leaving.

And she walked out.

Tim stood there, staring at where she had disappeared, his heart pounding in his chest.

He knew. That hadn’t just been lust.

It had been the beginning of the end of his peace.

Chapter Text

Lucy stepped into the apartment and closed the door behind her as if trying to seal the outside world away. As soon as her back touched the door, her body trembled from within. It was the weight of everything that had happened — the kiss, the kind of sex she had never experienced before, his words, the silent confession still burning in her throat.

She dropped her backpack on the floor, sank into one of the couch cushions, and stared at nothing, as if her mind refused to accept the reality of her feelings.

She felt vulnerable.

And for a moment, she wondered: was it really such a big mistake?

The doubt hit hard, and she stood up, walked to the balcony, and leaned on the railing. The sound of the city mixed with her internal silence. She turned on her phone and dialed the one contact she

knew she could trust.

— Jackson? — her voice came out in a restrained tremor. — I… something happened. Tim… — she sobbed and had to pause. — I kissed him. We had sex… I love him and at the same time, I’m scared of it. He’s the person I swore I’d hate forever — she finally cried — And I… I don’t want to lose what I felt. I want to find out where this takes me.

Through tears, she told him everything: the kiss, the confusion, how it had been so much more than physical. Holding back his own emotion, Jackson listened and responded with support:

“Take it slow, Lucy. But go. Take the risk. If your heart’s asking, follow it. You deserve to live this — and he deserves the chance too. But do it your way.”

Lucy hung up, tried to wipe her eyes, but only managed to sniff harder. She still didn’t know where this would lead. She only knew she didn’t want to go back.

The other side of the wall was too quiet.

Tim was standing, leaning against the balcony frame. He had heard every word she said. Every sob, every revelation. His chest tightened. His heart ached.

The next moment, his phone buzzed. It was Angela:

— Bradford — she shouted, and he could hear her clearly — what the hell was that? You let a gorgeous, angry, sworn enemy of a woman pour her heart out on the balcony… and just stood there

listening? What kind of idiot are you, huh?

— Calm down — he tried to explain — I… she said things I needed to hear.

— You listened to Miss Complaints, Bradford.

— I hurt her every day. And now, she’s hurting and brave. And… my fear of losing everything made her… speak again.

— And does that motivate you to take a step or make you freeze more?

— It makes me… go to her. Right now.

Angela sighed on the other end.

— Then go. Before she goes back to college and you miss your chance.

They hung up. He grabbed the collar of his shirt and took a deep breath.

He looked inside the apartment.

The lights were off, but a sliver of light from the living room illuminated the balcony where Lucy had talked to Jackson.
He pushed himself off the doorframe and went back inside.

He grabbed Kojo by the collar, crouched, and scribbled a quick note on a scrap of paper:

“Lucy, I’m sorry for the harsh words. Maybe I made you stop trusting me. I’m asking for another chance. – Tim”

He rolled up the note and tied it to Kojo’s collar.

Then he stopped in front of her door. Knocked — softly, almost timidly.

There was a moment of hesitation. He took a deep breath. Entered.

And he heard the dog’s steps — Kojo’s instinctive reaction — and the door opened.

Lucy froze when she saw Kojo there, looking up at her, with the note tied to his collar. Then she lifted her eyes.

And saw him.

Tim walked in, slowly. His clothes neat, his face calm and serious.

— You… — she began, her voice vulnerable.

— Hey — he said gently, brushing a strand of hair from her face — I owe you an apology. And an explanation.

She swallowed hard, her heart racing. He took a step forward. She followed him with her eyes, holding her breath.

He got closer, and standing before her, he said in a deep voice:

— You’re the most annoying part — she narrowed her eyes — and the most important part of my day. And I want to try to make this work. With you.

That was all it took. Tears streamed down her face again. He stepped closer, gently wiped the tears from her cheeks, and leaned in. Their lips met in a calm, long, sweet kiss — the first kiss without tension or anger. A kiss full of promise.

Kojo entered the apartment with them slowly, heading straight to the balcony as if he already understood. This was their place now.

Tim pulled her inside too, guiding her slowly to the couch. They sat together. She hugged herself as they faced each other.

— I need to say this — he said softly. — Isabel left me. She ran off with another guy. And even though that past crushed me, it was with you that I learned… that I can still open up. That I can still take risks.

Lucy looked at him with warmth, her breathing calm.

— I want to be here — she said quietly — Since the day I moved in, I’ve been waiting for a reason to like a neighbor. I never thought it would be you. But I’ll admit the moments with you are the highlights of my day: you, your smile, even when you annoy me, your voice. I want to try this. With you. With all the chances.

He smiled, kissed her forehead, and whispered:

— I won’t promise I won’t annoy you… — he smirked — …but I promise I’ll never stop wanting you.

Lucy smiled back, pulling him into a hug. He kissed the top of her head.

— Me neither.

Five years had passed.

Five years since a hallway fight ended in an unplanned kiss. Five years since the first muffin, the first confession, the first night on the couch, the first “I hate you” that secretly meant “I can’t get you out of my head.”

And now they were here.

In the middle of a hall decorated with warm lights, white flowers, and golden accents, Tim Bradford and Lucy Chen were finally celebrating the love they had built with stubbornness, with desire, and — above all — with trust.

Lucy wore a calm smile on her face and a six-month baby bump that made her glow even more. She wore a flowing, lightweight dress tailored to her transforming body, with lace details that gently embraced the roundness of her belly. Her hair was in an effortless bun, makeup soft, and her eyes sparkling.

Kojo trotted excitedly down the aisle with a small pillow tied to his collar, carrying the rings with the solemnity only a spoiled and well-trained dog could have. The guests laughed and melted when he reached the altar.

Angela was the first to rush to Lucy after the ceremony.

— You tamed the beast, Chen — she said with a wide grin. — Although, considering your sharp tongue, I think he’s the one who got domesticated.

Lucy laughed, adjusting her dress and sitting on the couch in the quietest corner of the hall. She was tired. The pregnancy was going beautifully, but her feet were begging for mercy.

— Not domesticated… just tamed — Lucy joked. — With love, of course.

Angela winked at her and stepped away, making room for the person already approaching with steady steps.

Tim.

The groom, in a navy-blue suit without a tie, beard freshly trimmed, and eyes holding the same spark as when he first saw her with a cup of tea on the balcony. Now, that look carried more love, more time, more certainty.

He sat beside her on the couch.

She leaned against him without thinking.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and with the other hand, gently rested on her belly, caressing lightly, feeling the subtle movement of their daughter inside.

— You trusted your heart to me — he whispered just for her — and for five years, I’ve tried to live up to that. Now, I want to start a new chapter. With you. In our new home. With our daughter. With sweet Zoe. And Kojo, of course… he’ll always be king of the couch.

Lucy chuckled softly and turned her face to him.

— My favorite part of the day is still teasing you. Always will be. But now… with baby clothes scattered all over the house.

He laughed too, kissing her forehead.

Time seemed to slow around them. They stayed like that for a moment: the couple born from anger, sarcasm, and tension, now sitting side by side, ready for a lifetime together.

The hospital room was silent.

There were flowers beside the bed, a soft light in the corner, and the air was filled with something almost sacred.

Lucy lay there in a hospital gown, her face still slightly pale from the birth.

But the smile...

The smile wouldn’t fade.

She watched, heart overflowing, the man she had loved so deeply — and who now held Zoe in his arms as if she were made of glass and light.

Tim was barefoot, wearing a worn t-shirt, tears in his eyes.

He gently rocked their daughter in his arms.

The baby slept with her face pressed to his chest, tiny fingers curled into fists.

Lucy thought she never would’ve believed it, six years ago, when she moved into that building, that one day she’d be here.

That the unbearable neighbor she used to fight with about everything would now be holding their daughter in his arms, in the room where life began again.

He felt her gaze and looked at her.

A long, steady look. The kind that speaks without needing words.

She reached her hand out to him. He walked to the edge of the bed and leaned in. Zoe stayed nestled against him.

Lucy lifted her hand to his face.

And in that silence, full of meaning, the two of them spoke together, almost like a vow:

— I love you.

And that was all they needed to say.