Celina stepped off the plane, pulling her coat tighter around her shoulders as the crisp air of the new city brushed against her face. Everything smelled different….the streets, the cafés, even the distant hum of traffic. She breathed deeply. Here, no one knew her name, her past, or her heartbreak. She was invisible, and for the first time in years, she liked it.
Her suitcase rolled behind her as she made her way to the taxi stand. The driver chatted amiably, asking about her flight and whether she liked the city so far. Celina nodded politely, keeping her answers brief. She had learned it was easier to observe than to speak, easier to watch than to trust.
The apartment she rented was modest, but it felt like a sanctuary. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, warming the wooden floors, and she could already imagine where her favorite books and plants would go. Finally, a place that belonged to her and no one else. She ran her fingers over the smooth countertop, smiling faintly at the thought of arranging her little corner of the world exactly how she wanted it.
The first week passed slowly. Celina unpacked, explored nearby streets, and started a quiet routine: a café in the morning, a short walk in the park, and evenings with her laptop and a cup of tea. She reminded herself daily: this was her life now. She would focus on herself. No one would hurt her here.
But life has a way of complicating even the simplest plans.
It was a sunny Wednesday morning when the moving van pulled up next door. Celina nearly bumped into a lamppost as she noticed the man stepping out, carrying a medium-sized box with careful, deliberate movements. He wore a plain shirt and jeans, nothing flashy, but something about him caught her attention. He moved with ease and confidence, but without arrogance.
Celina paused on the sidewalk, pretending to check her phone, but her gaze lingered. He looked up and caught her staring. For a moment, there was a flicker of surprise in his eyes; quickly replaced by a polite, small smile.
"Good morning," he said casually, setting the toolbox down.
Celina blinked. "Uh… good morning," she replied, a little stiffly
"I'm moving in next door," he said, nodding toward the apartment. "I'm Adrian."
Celina hesitated, her usual guardedness kicking in. "Celina," she said shortly. She didn't offer more. Usually, the first conversations were safe, neutral. She liked it that way.
Adrian lifted his box with ease. "If you see me struggling with furniture, feel free to laugh or… offer to help. Either works." His tone was calm, light, and honest, without any pretension.
Celina raised an eyebrow but said nothing, only nodded and continued her walk. Yet her curiosity had already settled in her chest. Something about him felt… different. He wasn't flashy, he didn't try to impress anyone, and he didn't give off any false charm.
This city might be interesting after all, she thought, sipping her coffee as she walked toward the small park nearby. Birds chirped faintly among the trees, and she let herself relax for a moment, feeling the tension in her shoulders ease. She had no idea what lay ahead, but for the first time in a long while, she felt the tiniest flicker of anticipation.
Perhaps it was nothing — just a new neighbor, another person in the city. But Celina couldn't shake the feeling that this seemingly ordinary man might change the quiet rhythm of her carefully rebuilt life.