You didn’t want to hate your new neighbour, Matt Sturniolo, but his dog made it nearly impossible. The barking. Constant. Insistent. It echoed through the walls, punctuating your evenings like an offbeat metronome. After weeks of sleepless nights and muttered complaints, you were ready to march over and give him a piece of your mind.

But then the incident happened.

It was late, well past the time when most people had gone to bed, and the barking was sharper, more frantic than usual. You tried to ignore it, pulling a pillow over your head, but something about it wouldn’t let you rest. Against your better judgment, you peeked out your window and saw Matt struggling outside. His dog - what was her name? Bella, maybe - was limping, her tail tucked low, whimpering softly.

Without thinking, you grabbed your jacket and hurried outside. "Need a hand?" you called, voice half-annoyed, half-concerned.

Matt looked up, surprised. In the dim glow of the porch light, you noticed he looked genuinely worried. “She stepped on something,” he explained. “I think it’s stuck in her paw, but she won’t let me near it.”

Something shifted in you. The irritation you’d harbored for weeks melted into a pang of sympathy for Bella and, strangely enough, for Matt. Together, the two of you managed to calm her down long enough to remove the shard of glass lodged in her paw. Matt murmured soft reassurances while you held her steady, marveling at how much gentler she seemed up close.

“Thanks,” Matt said quietly once it was over, his voice carrying an unexpected warmth. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”