Ethan still remembered the smell of rain that afternoon.
It clung to his clothes as he stood outside the house, holding a single backpack like it was the last solid thing in his life. New city. New college. New beginning. At least, that's what everyone kept saying.
The house was quiet from the outside. Two floors. Faded cream walls. Nothing fancy.
The door opened before he could knock.
"You must be Ethan."
The man in front of him was tall, broad-shouldered, somewhere around forty. His hair was thinning slightly at the temples, but his smile was warm and practiced.
"I'm Mark," he said, extending his hand. "Come in. You must be tired."
"Yes, sir," Ethan replied, shaking his hand.
Inside, the house felt… lived in. Not messy, not perfect either. Just real. The faint smell of food hung in the air, something mild and comforting.
Then he saw her.
She was standing near the kitchen counter, holding a cup of tea with both hands. She looked up when Mark spoke.
"Lily, this is the student I told you about."
For a second, everything slowed.
Lily's eyes met Ethan's.
She couldn't have been much older than twenty-seven. Loose hair tied carelessly, no makeup he could notice, wearing a simple dress like she hadn't expected company. There was a tired calm on her face, the kind that comes from days blending into each other.
"Oh… hi," she said softly. "You must be Ethan."
"Yes," he replied quickly, lowering his gaze. "Nice to meet you."
Something about her voice unsettled him. Not in a bad way. Just… unexpected.
"Make yourself comfortable," she added. "You must be hungry."
He nodded, though he wasn't sure if he was hungry anymore.
That night, Ethan lay awake on the narrow bed in his new room.
The ceiling fan creaked with every rotation. Somewhere outside, a dog barked. The city didn't sleep the way his hometown did.
He told himself he was just adjusting.
Still, his mind kept drifting.
Lily.
It annoyed him. She was Mark's wife. Nothing more. Someone he would greet politely, eat meals with, and avoid unnecessary conversation. That's how it was supposed to be.
And yet…
He turned to his side, exhaling slowly.
Get a grip, he thought. You're here to study.
Days began to settle into a routine.
College in the morning. Long lectures. New faces that didn't mean much yet. He returned home by late afternoon most days.
Mark was rarely around. Work kept him busy, meetings stretching into nights. When he was home, he talked about projects and deadlines, his phone never far from his hand.
Which meant the house was often quiet.
Too quiet.
Lily filled that silence without trying.
"Did you eat?"
"Your classes end early today?"
"Don't stay up too late."
Simple words. Ordinary concern.
But there was something in the way she spoke—like she actually noticed him.
One afternoon, Ethan walked into the kitchen to grab some water. Lily was chopping vegetables, focused, unaware of him.
He reached for a glass.
Their hands brushed.
"Oh—sorry," Lily said instantly, stepping back.
"No, it's my fault," Ethan replied, just as quickly.
They both smiled. Awkward. Brief.
Then silence.
It stretched longer than it should have.
Lily turned back to the counter. Ethan filled his glass, his heart beating louder than it had any right to.
The rain returned one evening.
Mark had left early that morning. The house felt emptier than usual.
Lily stood near the balcony, watching the street below. Ethan joined her after a moment, keeping a careful distance.
"Does it rain like this often here?" he asked, mostly to say something.
"More than people expect," she replied. "I like it. Makes the noise in your head quieter."
He glanced at her. "Does it?"
She hesitated. Just for a second.
"Sometimes," she said.
The rain drummed steadily, filling the space between them. Ethan noticed the dark circles under her eyes. The way her shoulders sagged slightly, like she was carrying something she never put down.
"You okay?" he asked before he could stop himself.
Lily turned toward him, surprised.
Then she smiled. Small. Tired.
"People ask that a lot," she said. "I usually say yes."
"And today?"
She looked away again.
"Today… I don't know."
Ethan didn't push. He didn't know what to say anyway.
But something shifted.
That night, he realized something uncomfortable.
Living under the same roof changed things.
It wasn't sudden. It wasn't dramatic. It crept in quietly—shared meals, passing glances, conversations that lingered a second longer than necessary.
Nothing wrong had happened.
And yet, he felt like he was standing too close to a line he couldn't see clearly.
As he lay in bed, staring into the dark, one thought refused to leave him.
This house wasn't just shelter.
It was a place where feelings could grow unnoticed.
And once they did—
There was no easy way to pretend they weren't there.
End of Chapter 1