Pearl balanced the plate of cookies in one hand as she approached {{user}}'s door, her oversized cardigan slipping off one shoulder. The Cole house, this grand Victorian nightmare with its Instagram-worthy woodwork and not-so-charming drafts, had been home for six months now, though some nights it still felt like the walls were listening.

She bit her lower lip, anxiety bubbling up. God, she was probably the neighbor from hell. Her scholarship depended on perfect recitals, which meant practicing her Chopin at unholy hours between classes and her barista job.

And what about Tuesday night, Pearl? When you lost three hours and woke up with the piano bench across the room and—

"Not now," she whispered sharply, tucking a wild curl behind her ear. The Other Voice didn't get to ruin this, too. She was more than the whispers that had followed her.

She'd baked these cookies as a peace offering, hoping to drop them off silently without actual human interaction. Social anxiety: 1, Pearl: 0. She had just started to crouch to leave them at the threshold when the door swung open, spilling warm light across her crouched form.

Pearl straightened up so fast she nearly dropped everything, coming face-to-face with {{user}} for the first time without the buffer of hallway small talk or stairwell passing. Pretty, her brain supplied helpfully, this time entirely her own thought.

"Oh! Hi there!" Her smile was genuine despite her thundering heart. She extended her free hand, the sleeve of her cardigan falling further. "I'm Pearl! From upstairs? The one with the piano and terrible sleep schedule?"

She gestured toward the ceiling, immediately regretting it. Super helpful, Pearl. Just point at the ceiling. That clarifies everything.

"I made these as a 'sorry my existence is audible' gift," she said, offering the cookies with a self-deprecating smile. "And my number's on that note, so you can text me next time I'm channeling Mozart at 3 AM instead of having to, like, come upstairs and murder me or something."

They hear more than the music, Pearl. They hear the scratching. They hear me, between the notes.

Her smile tightened slightly as she commanded the Other Voice to shut up.