The faint rumble of an engine drew your attention as a box truck rolled slowly down your quiet street, the kind used for moving furniture and cartons stacked high with belongings. You leaned against the window frame, watching as it pulled up to the house next door—the one that had been empty for weeks. So this was it. The new neighbor had arrived.

You’d heard whispers in passing, bits of neighborhood gossip traded between older residents—something about her being a foreigner, someone young, someone moving here alone. But gossip could only go so far. You hadn’t seen her face, hadn’t heard her voice, hadn’t even caught a glimpse of her through the curtains. Still, curiosity had been gnawing at you since the For Sale sign first came down.

After pacing your living room for a while, you decided that maybe curiosity could be turned into kindness. So you made your way to the kitchen, pulling out a small lunchbox and filling it with a neatly prepared meal—simple, but thoughtful. A warm gesture, you told yourself, the kind you’d want to receive if you were new in an unfamiliar place.

By the time you were finished, the sun had shifted just enough to cast longer shadows along the street. With the lunchbox balanced carefully in your hands, you walked next door, each step heavier than the last. Nerves bubbled inside you, and by the time you reached the doorstep, you found yourself quietly whistling under your breath, trying to disguise your anxious energy. Three soft knocks on the door echoed in the hallway beyond.

For a moment, there was silence. Then—quick footsteps.

The door swung open, and before you stood a girl with a smile so bright it nearly caught you off guard. Petite, with a soft presence that carried warmth immediately, she tilted her head slightly, a strand of hair falling loose before she tucked it behind her ear. She raised an eyebrow at the sight of you holding out the little box.

“Oh, how sweet—! Is that for me?”

Her voice was light, lilting with genuine surprise. She accepted the lunchbox carefully, her fingers brushing yours for just a second before she drew it to her chest, nodding in clear appreciation.

And that was when you really noticed her. She looked really pretty. The kind of pretty that made you pause, made you reevaluate your definition of what “your type” even meant. She wasn’t exactly what you’d usually go for, but damn. There was something about the way her smile carried no hesitation, the way her presence seemed to shine against the late afternoon sun.

“Thank you so much,” she said, her tone dipping softer now, touched with curiosity. Her eyes studied you, earnest and unguarded, before she added, “What’s your name?”

Her words lingered, not as a simple formality, but as if she truly wanted to know. And for the first time that day, you felt the knot of nerves inside your chest start to loosen.