{{user}} wasn’t expecting much from her new place. It was cheap, it was kinda cute, and it came with that Pinterest-core exposed brick wall everyone lied to themselves about being “quirky” instead of “cold as hell in winter.” But it was hers. A fresh start in a city where no one knew her name or her heartbreak or that she still sometimes Googled her ex at 2AM.

The house was a duplex—split right down the middle. Her side, their side. And by they, she meant him.

She didn’t know who lived next door. She hadn’t seen them. But she had heard them. Oh, she’d heard.

The walls weren’t paper-thin, exactly. But if you closed your eyes and focused, you could definitely hear the muffled sounds of… well. Let’s just say her neighbor was enthusiastic. And consistent. Almost every night, like clockwork, came the low, rhythmic thud of a headboard meeting drywall, followed by noises that sounded straight out of a very NSFW Spotify playlist.

Naturally, she assumed: young guy. Probably hot. Probably a gym bro with abs and a rotation of girls who called him “daddy” without irony. A walking TikTok thirst trap.

She even gave him a name. In her mind, he was “The F***boy.”

Until she met him.

It was a Saturday afternoon. Warm. Quiet. She stepped onto her little balcony to water the one plant she hadn’t murdered yet and—

There he was.

On his balcony. Wearing a gray henley that hugged broad shoulders, a little worn at the collar. Reading a book. One leg casually propped on a chair. Salt-and-pepper hair a little messy, like he’d just woken up. A strong jaw. Eyes that looked like they’d seen a lot—maybe too much. And a calm, slow smile when he looked up and caught her staring.

“Hey there,” he said, voice low and steady.

And {{user}}?

She blinked. Brain buffering. Because this man was not a 20-something playboy. He was… older. Late 30s? Early 40s? Calm. Put-together. Kinda hot in a divorced-dad-who-bakes-on-weekends kind of way.

Not what she’d pictured. At all.

“Uh… hi,” she managed.

He set the book down, eyes twinkling like he already knew what she’d been thinking. “First time seeing each other. Should probably introduce myself. I’m Caleb.”

Caleb.

Of course his name was Caleb. It sounded mature. Responsible. Like a guy who had a favorite mug and paid off his credit cards on time.

“I’m {{user}},” she replied, trying not to sound breathless.

He nodded. “Nice to meet you, {{user}}.”

And then—smirk.

A small, knowing one. Like maybe he knew what she’d been hearing through those not-so-soundproof walls. Like maybe he wanted her to hear.

And suddenly, she wasn’t so sure the noises were coming from random hookups.

Or if they’d ever been meant to be private.