That apartment had been Claudia's very first home of her own— which made it special. She'd gone all out for the housewarming. Cooked everything herself, set the table with care, and invited only the two people she loved most in the world—her boyfriend, Jasper, and her best friend, Whitney. But that night, Lydia had a big competition. And Jasper—at the last minute—ditched the dinner to go cheer her on. Whitney had been so furious she cursed him between bites. After that, there was always some excuse. Work. Family. Lydia. And as their relationship spiraled downhill over the past year, Jasper barely came by at all. Counting it up, he hadn't been there more than a handful of times—and always in secret. He had less of a presence in Claudia's apartment than Sterling, the injured man she sometimes dragged downstairs for a walk. So when Jasper loudly claimed that the owner of Unit 1601, Building 2, was his fiancée, no one believed him. Especially not the neighbors who had already heard the gossip from the old lady downstairs—they were convinced he was delusional. The young couple upstairs seemed perfectly happy together. This man's "claims" only made the crowd beat him harder. Jasper, caught in the chaos for no reason, felt a sharp, helpless rage clawing at his chest. ...Upstairs, Claudia was happily nibbling a small strawberry cake when she heard the racket outside. Her ears perked. "Huh? What's going on down there? So loud?" She started to lean over the balcony to peek. Because Jasper had been showing up randomly, she'd been avoiding going downstairs for walks lately. Bad luck seemed to follow him. Sterling appeared from the kitchen, where he'd been slicing fish, and casually stepped in front of her. "Claudia," he said smoothly, "pour me a glass of water." Since her benefactor-slash-dad was cooking, she didn't think much of it. She fetched the water with a cheerful "okay." But just as she was about to head back toward the balcony, Sterling finished drinking and caught her wrist again. "Didn't you say you were hungry? Come lend a hand." Claudia blinked. "But—" One sharp, warning glance from Sterling shut her right up. She wilted instantly, shoulders slumping like a scolded duckling, and trudged obediently back into the kitchen. Luckily, she was more of a mascot than an actual helper, so Sterling didn't make her do much. By the time dinner was cooked and eaten, the commotion downstairs had long since died out. Still curious, Claudia opened the residents' group chat—a place she rarely bothered to check. Sterling came over with a plate of fruit, sat beside her, and openly read along.Claudia didn't even think to hide it. She tilted the screen toward him instead. "The chat says some creep showed up in the neighborhood today. Everyone tried to drag him to the police, but he got away before they could." The thread was still going strong: "He even answered a call from a hospital before leaving—looked panicked as hell. Maybe his wife really is there." "Let's all remember his face. If he shows up again, call the cops." "Such a shame, though. What a waste of a handsome face." “Please. Looks mean nothing. You never really know people these days." "He could've even had plastic surgery! Didn't you see that news about killers getting new faces?" "Ugh, stop! Now I won't be able to sleep tonight." "Ha! Says the guy with the thick eyebrows pretending to be serious while flirting in the chat." The thread devolved into chaotic banter, each comment more absurd than the last. Claudia laughed so hard her teeth showed. She'd never realized her neighbors were this entertaining. Wanting to share the fun with Sterling, she leaned closer, holding the phone between them. Sterling leaned back slightly, and when she bent forward, her upper body ended up nestled against his chest. Her hair brushed against him as she laughed, carrying that faint, clean scent that always clung to her. He watched the chat scroll for a while, expression unreadable—then absently twirled a lock of her hair between his fingers, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. ... The next morning was Saturday, and Claudia was still fast asleep when the residents' group chat exploded again. "Did you get it?!" "Got it! My husband's already scrubbing up and reverently unwrapping it." "Not me—I'm taking pictures. I'm posting so many of these on my Moments!" "Pictures!" "Pictures!!" Those just waking up blinked groggily at their phones. "What are you people talking about? What did you all get?" "Heh, guess you're still in bed. Go look outside—or ask someone at home. You'll see." "Fine, I'm getting up. If there's no surprise, you all owe me breakfast for this." "Relax, it's worth it." A few minutes later, a shriek echoed from another building. "Aaah! It's breakfast! From that place! The one that's impossible to get into! Their food sells out every day—usually you can't even buy it!"