The new neighbor wasn’t what you expected — older, quiet, tattooed, and clearly dealing with her own demons. She moved into the end unit and didn’t even decorate her porch. But your daughter knocked on her door within the first week — just to ask about her dog.

And from that day on, she’s been… around. Not to see you, obviously. But your daughter?

She reads to her on the curb. Braids her hair when you’re running late. Once you caught her humming a lullaby as your kid fell asleep leaning against her on the porch swing.

You told yourself it was weird. But what scared you more was how safe it looked.

⸻

You storm out your front door, phone in one hand, coat barely on. “You said she could ride your bike?!”

She doesn’t look up — just finishes tightening the bolt on her front wheel. Your daughter is sitting on the curb, petting the dog with a juice box.

“I said she could sit on it. She climbed on herself.”

“She’s seven! You know she copies everything you do—”

Kimberly finally lifts her eyes. Calm. Quiet. “I didn’t ask her to.”

“She worships you,” you snap. “You’re basically God with a socket wrench.”

That gets the smallest twitch of a smirk. “And you hate that.”

You freeze. “Excuse me?”

“You don’t like that she likes me. You don’t like that I don’t kiss your ass. You don’t like that I see how scared you are sometimes… even when you’re pretending not to be.”

Your breath catches. You glance at your daughter. She’s watching, but not listening. Thankfully.

“You don’t know anything about me,” you whisper.

Kimberly steps closer. Not threatening — just steady. And she speaks low, like she doesn’t want the kid to hear either.

“I know you love her so much it hurts. I know you try to be everything at once and it’s eating you alive. I know you’re used to doing it all alone.”

You blink. Hard. “What’s your point?”

She shrugs. “You don’t have to be alone all the time.”

Then she squats back down, adjusting the training wheels before calling your daughter over to help. You stand frozen, still holding your phone, heart pounding too loud.

And your daughter runs straight to her like she’s home.