After a few minutes of silence, my chest slowly unclenching and my hands finally relaxing, I turned toward him. He was sitting across from me on the edge of the bed, calm and unflinching, as if nothing could rattle him. I felt a strange mixture of curiosity and caution.
"Thank you," I said quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. "For… ending the call."
He shrugged, a small, almost self-deprecating smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "It was stressing you out. You didn't need that today."
I nodded, feeling embarrassed at how intensely I had reacted. The anger, the shouting—it all felt raw and unfiltered now that it was over. But his presence was grounding, almost protective, and for the first time in months, I felt a flicker of calm.
"I don't even know your name," I said after a pause.
He leaned back, a little wary, then exhaled. "Raymond," he said simply. "Raymond Harris."
I raised an eyebrow, trying to tease him to cut the tension. "Raymond, huh? You don't look a day over twenty-seven."
He chuckled, a deep, quiet sound that made the air feel warmer. "Thanks, I'll take that as a compliment. I'm actually thirty-five."
I blinked, surprised. "Thirty-five? You don't look it. Seriously."
He shrugged again, his smile faint but genuine. "Guess I take care of myself."
The conversation was unexpectedly easy, even after everything that had happened. I found myself asking questions about him—the kind you normally wouldn't ask a stranger—and he answered cautiously but honestly.
"You've lived around here long?" I asked, trying to sound casual.
"Not really," he admitted, his eyes darkening slightly. "I moved here… recently. Needed a fresh start."
"Fresh start, huh?" I said, curiosity piqued. "So, you just packed up and left town?"
He hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. There were… complications where I was before. Things people didn't understand. I had to come here."
I tilted my head, sensing there was more. "Complications?"
He took a deep breath and looked me in the eyes. "I killed a man."
I froze, my stomach dropping. The words sounded impossible in the calm voice he was using, as if he were describing something mundane.
"It wasn't on purpose," he continued quickly, anticipating my reaction. "It was self-defense. The man struck first… I had no choice. I was protecting myself. But people in my old town… they didn't want to hear any explanation. They believed I did it intentionally. I had to leave. Start over."
The room fell silent for a moment. The weight of his words settled in, heavy and unsettling. But he didn't look like a murderer. Not like the stories I had heard on the news, the cold, calculating faces of men who took lives without remorse. There was a quiet sorrow in his eyes, a restrained tension that spoke of someone burdened by a past they hadn't wanted.
"You're… serious?" I asked slowly, testing the waters.
"Yes," he said simply, his tone calm but unwavering. "I'm serious. I'm not proud of it, but I did what I had to do. And I don't plan to be that person again. This place… it's a chance to start over."
I nodded, unsure what to say. Part of me was skeptical, wary of trusting him, but another part… the part that had been alone and scared for months, wanted a friend. Wanted someone to care, without judgment.
Raymond seemed to read my thoughts. "I don't want to scare you," he said softly. "I just… want to be honest. That's all."
There was something about his honesty, about the calm steadiness in his voice, that made me relax. I decided to let the moment linger, to treat him as a neighbor first, not as a dangerous past hidden behind guarded eyes.
"So, Raymond," I said, forcing a lighter tone, "you come here with a dark past and now you're my… friendly neighbor?"
He smiled faintly, nodding. "Exactly. Just a neighbor. Helping a neighbor."
I grinned despite myself, teasing him. "I hope helping a neighbor doesn't come with too many strings attached."
"No strings," he assured me. "Just… if you need anything, I'm here. Seriously. That's all."
I hesitated, then decided to push a little further. "Actually… you could help me. I need… new clothes. And I could really use my hair and nails done. I can't even remember the last time I felt… normal."
His expression softened. "You want me to take you shopping?"
I blinked, surprised at the offer. "You'd… do that?"
He shrugged, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "Why not? A neighbor helps a neighbor. That's all it is."
I smiled, laughing softly despite myself. "You're really committed to the whole 'neighbor' thing, huh?"
"I guess I am," he said with a faint chuckle. "Nothing more. Nothing less. Just trying to help someone settle in."
I studied him for a moment, trying to read the intentions behind his words. But all I could see was honesty—calm, quiet, and unexpectedly gentle. My mind, exhausted from betrayal, heartbreak, and chaos, tried to convince me not to read too much into it. Not to think he liked me. Not yet.
And yet… I felt a strange warmth at the thought that someone—someone like Raymond—was willing to see me, to help me, without judgment or expectation.
I realized then that maybe trust didn't have to be immediate. Maybe kindness could exist without strings. Maybe, in this tiny, messy room, a glimmer of safety had finally arrived.
"Okay," I said, finally letting a small smile appear. "Neighbor, I guess we're going shopping tomorrow."
"Tomorrow it is," he said, with the faintest smile. "Just a neighbor, helping a neighbor."
And somehow, for the first time in months, that was enough.