The countryside was still wrapped in early morning quiet. Birds chirped softly, and the scent of dew clung to the grass. Lydia stepped out onto her porch, wrapped in a cozy robe, coffee mug in hand. She moved like it was casual—like this was just her normal, peaceful morning routine.
It wasn't.
She was absolutely waiting for her neighbor.
"I swear I came here to heal, not to stalk the man next door," Lydia muttered to herself, eyes scanning the neighboring house.
"But healing can wait—have you seen his jawline?"
Right on cue, the door next door creaked open.
Ravi stepped out, dressed in a black T-shirt and grey sweatpants, earbuds in. He stretched like he owned the dawn—slow, unbothered, devastating. Lydia nearly dropped her coffee.
"Oh! You're up early," she said, pretending not to look even though she very much was.
"Training to be the local heartbreaker or just naturally cursed with that face?"
Ravi pulled one earbud out and glanced over, not entirely meeting her gaze.
"Morning. Do you usually flirt before brushing your teeth?"
Lydia smirked into her mug.
"Only with dangerously attractive neighbors who clearly need someone to mess up their peace."
He smirked—just barely.
"You've accomplished that already. Congratulations."
She wandered down to the little white fence separating their yards and leaned against it dramatically, as if she were in a classic romance film.
"Come on, you moved here the same week I did. That can't be a coincidence. Admit it—you followed me."
"You're not that memorable," Ravi replied flatly.
"Ouch. That hurt.
But don't worry. I'm persistent. I'll grow on you."
"Like mold?"
"Like poetry. Or caffeine withdrawal. Painful at first, but you'll beg for more."
Finally, he looked at her—those stormy eyes locking onto hers for a moment that felt longer than it probably was.
"You talk a lot."
"And you don't talk enough."
"I find silence attractive. Too bad it's not your strength."
Lydia placed a hand over her chest and gasped dramatically.
"That British accent… Sir, do you have any idea what that does to a woman?"
"Hopefully nothing," Ravi said, dead serious.
"I enjoy being left alone."
"You'll break character one day," Lydia promised, lips tugging into a grin.
"I'll get a smile out of you."
He turned, walking away without another word—only tossing one over his shoulder as he disappeared into his house.
"Try not to fall in love with me by then. Wouldn't want to disappoint you."
Lydia watched the door close, mug still in hand.
"Too late…" she muttered.
Later that morning, inside her little rental, Lydia flopped onto the couch and dialed her best friend.
"I met him again," she told Mia through the phone.
"My neighbor. British, emotionally unavailable, smells like sin and sarcasm."
"Sounds like your exact type," Mia replied instantly.
"No. He's my type's final boss."
"Be careful, Lyds. Remember why you went there. For peace."
Lydia stared out the window in the direction of Ravi's house.
"I was gonna find peace…
and then peace grew a jawline and started ignoring me."