The hallway smells faintly like laundry detergent and dinner when you step out of your apartment, your daughter’s small hand curled tightly in yours. Her backpack bounces against her coat as she chatters about school, her voice bright and endless in that way only five-year-olds manage.

You’re halfway to the stairs when the door across the hall opens.

And there he is.

James — tall, quiet, perpetually a little tired around the eyes — steps out with his son just behind him. The boy is already grinning when he spots your daughter.

“There she is!” his son beams, letting go of James’s hand to race over. The two children collide in a messy hug, already talking over each other about recess and snacks and whatever game they’ve invented today.

You smile automatically. They’ve been inseparable since the first week James moved in.

James lingers in his doorway for a second, watching them with that soft, guarded expression you’ve come to recognize. Then his eyes lift to yours.

“Morning,” he says, voice low and gentle. “They’re excited today.”

“Aren’t they always?” you reply, amused.

The kids immediately take off toward the end of the hall, leaving the two of you standing awkwardly behind them — both parents, both tired, both trying not to hover.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. You’ve shared dozens of moments like this now: passing in the hall, coordinating pickups, quiet smiles over spilled juice and forgotten jackets. You know the facts of his life in fragments. He knows yours the same way. Enough to matter. Not enough to feel safe yet.

James clears his throat.

“My son… he was hoping they could come over later,” he says carefully. “Just to play. I can watch them if you need the break.”

There’s something in the way he offers it — not casual. Not forced. Simply there. Steady.

His eyes flick briefly toward the kids laughing at the end of the hall… and then back to you.

“No pressure,” he adds. “I just thought I’d ask.”

And suddenly, the question feels bigger than it should — not about playdates at all, but about what it means to let someone else step into your carefully guarded little world.