Hello, Neighbor

Chapter 2: Leaving the City

I woke up to the sound of birds outside my window. The early morning light filtered in through the blinds, and I stretched, feeling the soft bed beneath me. It had been days since I last slept in peace, but now, at this moment of quiet, I could feel the weight of the world lifting off my shoulders.

The apartment felt empty. I had spent so much time here, creating stories and imagining worlds, but it no longer felt like home. The walls, once a place where I poured out my heart and mind, now felt suffocating.

I ran my fingers along the edge of the nightstand, tracing the worn-out wood. A picture frame caught my eye—the one with a photo of my younger self, smiling, bright-eyed, and full of hope. I hadn't thought about it in ages. The smile on my face seemed so foreign now. It felt like someone else's life. I picked it up, holding it for a moment before gently placing it back. I wasn't ready to let go of that version of myself, but I couldn't keep living in the past. It was time to move forward, even if it meant stepping into the unknown.

Sighing, I sat up and looked around. The place was cluttered—books, manuscripts, coffee cups, and empty notebooks scattered all over. It was a mess, but it was mine. I couldn't bring myself to clean it up, not yet. I wasn't ready to say goodbye to this part of my life, even if it had become a prison of my own making.

I stood up and walked to the kitchen. The ritual of making coffee was a familiar comfort, one that grounded me, even if only for a moment. Grinding the beans, boiling the water, pouring it over the grounds—each step was a reminder that I still had control over something, even if the words on the page refused to come.

My phone buzzed, pulling me out of my thoughts. It was a text from Pablo.

Can we talk?

The weight of those words hit me hard. I hadn't spoken to him since the suspension—the silence between us had only grown since then. The whole situation had been uncomfortable, but now that I was finally preparing to leave the city, I knew I couldn't do it without clearing the air. There were too many lingering questions, unspoken feelings, and unfinished business.

Sighing, I typed back a simple reply. Sure. Let's meet at that café. In an hour?

As I made my way to the café, a small part of me hoped this conversation would bring closure. I wasn't angry anymore, not at Pablo, not at the suspension. But I needed to hear it from him. I needed him to understand that it wasn't personal, and I needed to show him that I was ready to let go of what had happened.

I spotted Pablo sitting at the usual corner table, his eyes already on me when I walked in. His hair was slightly longer than I remembered, and he looked tired, the dark circles under his eyes more pronounced than usual. But there was something different about him today. He wasn't as guarded, as composed. There was an openness in his posture that made me feel like maybe—just maybe—this conversation could finally put things to rest.

I sat down across from him, giving him a small nod. He didn't waste time.

"Arin, I... I wanted to apologize. I know the suspension was hard on you. I should've explained things better." He leaned forward, his voice genuine but hesitant. "I never meant for it to feel personal."

I wasn't sure what I'd expected, but his words hit me with a sense of relief. I'd been carrying the weight of that uncertainty for weeks, and hearing him say it, hearing the sincerity in his tone, helped me release a little more of that tension.

"It's okay, Pablo," I said softly. "I get it. I was pushing boundaries I shouldn't have. I got caught up in my own stuff." I let out a dry laugh. "It was a mess, and I shouldn't have let it get that far."

He nodded, looking down at his coffee. "I didn't want to be the bad guy. But you know I had to do what I did. It wasn't easy, and I don't want you to think it was about you personally."

"I never thought it was about me," I replied honestly. "But I didn't handle it well, either. I was angry, and I wasn't sure where to direct that anger. But in the end, it wasn't really about you or the company. It was about me, about feeling like I wasn't measuring up. I was frustrated with myself."

He looked at me, his expression softening. "I can't tell you how much I respect that. I know how hard you work, Arin. You don't have to prove yourself to me. I should have made that clearer from the start."

I felt a weight lift off my chest. It wasn't as if all my frustrations had evaporated, but hearing him take responsibility for his part helped me let go of the resentment I'd been holding onto. It wasn't easy, but it was necessary.

"I appreciate that," I said quietly. "I think I've just been caught up in my own head for too long. I thought the suspension was a reflection of my worth, but I get it now. I'm just... glad we can talk about it."

There was a moment of silence between us, and then Pablo leaned back, the tension in his body easing.

"Good," he said, his voice warm. "You know, you're one of the most talented people I've worked with. I don't want you to forget that. Whatever happens, don't stop believing in your work."

I smiled, feeling the honesty in his words. It felt like a gift—one that I wasn't sure I deserved, but one that I appreciated nonetheless.

"I won't forget that," I said, my voice steady. "And I think I'm starting to realize that this... suspension wasn't the end of the world. It's just a new beginning."

Pablo looked at me, his eyes softening. "Take care of yourself, Arin. You deserve it."

I stood up, my decision made. It wasn't just about moving out of the apartment. It wasn't just about leaving the city. It was about moving on—letting go of the past and stepping into the unknown.

"Thanks, Pablo," I said quietly, my heart lighter than it had been in weeks. "Take care of yourself, too."

As I left the café and stepped back into the noise of the city, I felt a strange sense of peace settle over me. I wasn't running away anymore. I was just moving forward. One step at a time.

----

The d-day. I glanced at the calendar on the wall. One year. That's how long I had been given to finish the story, to prove myself to the world. But the thought felt more like an anchor than a motivator, dragging me further into uncertainty.

"Arin," I muttered to myself, shaking my head. "Get it together."

I took a sip of my coffee and walked back to the window. The view was the same as always—buildings and streets filled with people rushing around, oblivious to the world beyond their own. It was a city full of noise, and yet, it was quieter than I had ever felt. I hadn't realized how much I longed for a change, for something different. But where could I go? What was left for me here?

I grabbed my phone and scrolled through my messages. Katie's message stood out.

"Are you okay? You don't have to do this alone. We're here for you."

Her words lingered, I felt a spark of warmth. Maybe I wasn't as alone as I had convinced myself. I hadn't accepted her offer to stay with her yet, but something about her message made me think twice. Still, I couldn't ignore the pull of independence that had started to grow within me. Maybe it was time to face this alone.

I locked my phone and packed a few things—just the essentials. My clothes, a few books, and my manuscript. The apartment felt like a tomb now, the walls echoing with memories I wasn't ready to face.

I left the apartment without looking back. Each step toward the door felt like a small break from my past, a shift into something new. I didn't know where it would take me, but for the first time in a while, I felt like I was choosing this path for myself.