Healing Hearts

Chapter 4

I'm woken up by an insistent knocking at the door, the sound echoing through the quiet of my morning. Glancing at the clock, 9:30 AM mocks me with its reminder of my rare opportunity for a lie-in. Yet, the persistent rap on my door shatters any hopes of indulging in extra sleep on my day off. Grumbling, I begrudgingly drag myself out of bed, hastily donning a soft, oversized dressing gown to confront the intruder.

With each step towards the door, the knocking grows louder, more insistent, as if the visitor is determined to rouse me from my brief respite. Flinging the door open, I'm met with the sight of Ben, standing on my doorstep with an awkward smile and a single cupcake in hand, as if he's stumbled upon some grand revelation.

"Happy birthday, neighbor!" he chirps, thrusting the cupcake toward me with an earnest grin.

I eye the confection warily, recognizing it as one from the local bakery. "Uh, thanks. But why?" I ask, suspicion creeping into my tone.

"Well, it's your birthday, and I figured a cupcake might sweeten the deal for what I need," he explains, his tone laced with an air of expectancy.

"And what's that?" I inquire, bracing myself for whatever favor he's about to ask.

"To use your shower," he states matter-of-factly, as if it's the most reasonable request in the world.

I stare at him incredulously. "Excuse me?"

"My shower's on the fritz. Water pressure's like a bad horror movie – all stabby and unpredictable," he explains, miming the motions with his hands.

I weigh my options, torn between being a good neighbor and my growing unease around this guy who's suddenly popping up everywhere. With a resigned sigh, I relent. "Fine. But make it quick, and sort out your plumbing situation pronto," I grumble, stepping aside to let him in.

As he ascends the stairs to the bathroom, I take a moment to hastily tidy myself up in the downstairs mirror. Mascara smudged and hair tangled from the previous night's escapades with Adam, I quickly set about rectifying the situation. Pausing to check my phone, I find a flood of messages from my Aunt Cath, sharing snippets of her adventures in Indonesia along with a heartfelt birthday greeting. I shoot her a quick reply just as I hear the bathroom door creak open upstairs, the sound signalling the start of an unexpected turn in my day.

Ben saunters into the kitchen, a towel draped over his head like some kind of beach-bound ninja. "Thanks for the shower, Cass," he says, vigorously rubbing the towel through his hair.

I wave him off with my spoon of Coco Pops, multitasking between breakfast and replying to my Aunt's barrage of messages. "No problem," I mumble between spoonfuls, before hitting send on yet another text.

"Any big birthday plans today?" he inquires, sidling up to the kitchen island.

I shake my head, my attention still divided between scrolling through old university friends' messages and checking up on the Doctor I used to work with before Ben began invading my life. "Not really. Just a chill day," I reply, my tone nonchalant.

"But it's your birthday! You gotta celebrate, right? How old are you today, anyway?" he presses, a mischievous glint in his eye.

I shoot him a look of mock indignation. "You know better than to ask a lady her age," I quip, raising an eyebrow.

Undeterred, he persists, "Alright, fine. Can I guess, then?"

I roll my eyes, expecting the usual routine. "Go ahead," I challenge.

He starts his guessing game. "Are you 23?"

"Nope."

"24?"