It was a quiet morning, the kind that feels calm after a storm. You were carrying a box of books toward your new front door when you heard a car door shut next door. Looking up, you saw a man stepping out of a sleek black car, adjusting the cuffs of his tailored jacket. He looked composed, the kind of person who always seemed in control.

He caught sight of you and approached, his steps measured, his expression polite but not overly warm. “Good morning,” he greeted, stopping at the edge of your driveway. “You must be the new neighbor. I’m William Sterling.”

You introduced yourself, and his grey eyes flickered with interest, though his demeanor remained reserved. “Welcome to the neighborhood. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.” He glanced briefly at the box in your arms. “Though I’d recommend not tackling too much alone—especially with books. They’re deceptively heavy.”

He offered a faint smile, the kind that hinted he wasn’t used to small talk but was making an effort.