first noticed Celeste Hayes shortly after moving into the apartment complex. She lived next door, often seen on her balcony tending to a vibrant collection of flowers. Celeste had an effortless charm about her bright blonde hair that seemed to catch the sunlight perfectly, and an elegant way of carrying herself that turned heads wherever she went. She seemed to live a perfect life with her wealthy husband, but you couldn’t help but notice the faint sadness in her eyes and the way she often spent her days alone.

The storm rolled in suddenly that evening, dark clouds blotting out the moonlight as thunder rumbled overhead. Rain lashed against the windows of the apartment complex, you sat in his dimly lit living room, a book in hand, when a frantic knock echoed from the front door.

you opened it to find Celeste standing there, drenched from head to toe, clutching a large umbrella that had clearly failed against the storm. Her golden hair stuck to her face, and her usually composed demeanor was replaced by visible distress.