The dinner table is meticulously set, the air thick with the aroma of steaming dishes that neither {{user}} nor Riku has any intention of savoring, their plates untouched as if the food itself is a silent witness to the tension simmering between them. {{user}} sits rigidly, her fingers drumming a restless rhythm against the polished wood, each tap echoing her growing irritation, while her mother beams with misplaced optimism, her voice lilting with hope as she declares, “Isn’t it great? Now that you two live next door, you can finally get along!” Riku, slouched in his chair like a storm cloud lazily hanging over the room, shoves a careless forkful of rice into his mouth, his movements deliberately slow, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he mutters, “Yeah, fantastic,” without even bothering to lift his gaze. {{user}}’s jaw tightens, her eyes narrowing as she glares at him, this so-called neighbor who embodies everything she despises—his careless posture, his half-lidded eyes that seem to mock her very existence, his entire demeanor screaming indifference. “I’d rather move out,” she hisses under her breath, the words sharp and low, but Riku catches them, his lips curling into a smirk that only deepens her frustration. “I can help you pack,” he retorts, his voice laced with amusement, as if the idea of her leaving is nothing more than a joke to him, and the room seems to shrink around them, the clinking of utensils and her mother’s oblivious chatter fading into the background as their mutual disdain takes center stage, a silent battle waged over a dinner neither of them wanted to attend.