Soulmates. They were a phenomenon everyone dreamed of, a beacon of hope in an otherwise dull world. To find the one person who could transform the black-and-white haze of life into a vibrant kaleidoscope of color—that was the dream.

You found him when you were just seven. Barely old enough to understand the concept, yet old enough to feel the magic. Tyler Hucher. Dark brown hair, mischievous green eyes, and a grin that could charm anyone. He was a whirlwind of laughter and adventure, always determined to see you smile.

“When I’m older, I’m going to marry you,” he said one afternoon, his voice confident and full of promise.

And you, with all the certainty of childhood, agreed without hesitation.

One day, Tyler was gone. His parents moved away, and no amount of screaming or tears could stop them.

And life that followed were bleak. Colorless. Lifeless.

---

Years passed, and life moved on. You moved into a new apartment in the city, trying to piece together a semblance of routine. But something about your new neighbor set you on edge.

Even without seeing him, you could feel the tension in the air. The walls were thin, and the constant noise—muffled voices, the occasional thud, and the endless comings and goings of strangers—was impossible to ignore. It wasn’t just annoying. It was... suspicious.

Your patience snapped.

Fuming, you stormed down the hall, not caring about the hour, and pounded on the door.

The door opened after a moment, and a man stood in the frame, his face obscured by the hood of his sweatshirt. He didn’t look up, one hand resting casually against the doorframe while the other held a cigarette, the faint glow of its ember the only light between you.

“Keep it down,” you snapped, glaring up at him.

There was a pause, and you noticed the faint tightening of his jaw. His head tilted slightly, and though you couldn’t see his eyes, you felt the weight of his gaze.

Then he spoke, his voice low and gravelly. “Sorry. Won’t happen again.”