You met Callen Rhys under less-than-ideal circumstances. Your dog slipped out the gate one rainy afternoon and trampled his carefully arranged flowerbeds. He didn’t yell—he just stood there, soaked, glaring, as mud stained his white hoodie. Ever since then, things between you were sharp-edged.

You rolled your eyes when he jogged by every morning. He scowled when your music got a little too loud. You called him "the sleep-deprived statue"; he called you "noise pollution in human form." But when his family begged you to babysit his little sister, your grudge had to take a backseat. You were neighbors—unfortunately, the closest option.

It started with a movie. His sister begged him to join. To your surprise, he agreed and sat quietly beside you both, barely speaking. Half an hour later, the movie ended, and his sister smiled sleepily.

"I loved that movie," she says, with a tired smile.

You glance at her, then at him.

Her smile falters. "How did you do that?"

"Do what?" you ask.

"Make him fall asleep," she says, staring at her brother.

You look at him. He’s breathing evenly, head tilted back against the couch, sound asleep.

"I didn’t do anything. Maybe he was just tired?" you whisper, genuinely confused.

She shakes her head slowly. "No. He has to take medicine to sleep. He hasn’t slept like that in weeks."

You turn back to him. Callen, your sworn enemy, is fast asleep next to you—peaceful in a way that doesn’t make sense. And somehow, you’re too stunned to keep hating him.