The Neighbor Effect

Chapter 1: Back to Sender

Haliyah AbdulKareem wasn’t expecting anything when she got home that Thursday evening  she was expecting rest.
The kind that involved removing her wig, microwaving leftover jollof, and ignoring her 57 unread work emails.

But when the security man handed her a brown parcel with her address and someone else’s name, saying it was addressed to her apartment she blinked.

“AbdulMaleek cardoso. Apartment 4A”, was boldly written on the box.

She squinted at it. “This estate people sef,” she muttered under her breath. “Can’t they read labels properly again?”

Haliyah lived in 4A, which meant whoever this Maleek guy was, he was her new neighbor, and he's in 4B
And from the look of things, he ordered something heavy. Great. She’d have to play courier.

She stared at the box for a full five minutes before sighing.
Her conscience won as usual.
She slipped on her slides and padded down the corridor.

When she knocked, she expected one of those quiet, bookish-looking men in glasses, the type that smelled like good cologne and emotional repression.
What she didn’t expect was towel, tattoos, and a cat.

The door swung open and she froze mid-knock.

He was tall. Ridiculously tall.
Caramel skin that looked like it had been kissed by the Lagos sun itself, water still dripping from his hairline down his neck.
A towel hung low around his hips dangerously low.
And in his left hand? A fluffy white cat staring at her like it knew all her secrets.

Haliyah’s mouth moved before her brain did.
“Uh parcel. Wrong address.”

He blinked, as if processing her words through a fog of confusion and…embarrassment.
Then, to her shock, he actually laughed a rich, low sound that curled down her spine like warm honey.

“Oh. Sorry. I wasn’t expecting anyone,” he said, accent dipped in something foreign but familiar  London with a hint of Yoruba rhythm.
“Thanks for bringing it.”

She thrust the box forward like it was radioactive. “You’re welcome. Next time, check your door number.”

He grinned. “You sound like my mum.”

“Good,” she said. “Maybe she’d tell you to wear proper clothes too.”

He raised a brow. “You disapprove of towels?”

“I disapprove of answering doors like you’re auditioning for a nudity role.”

That made him laugh again  genuinely this time, hand ruffling through his damp curls.
“Noted, Miss…?”

“haliyah.” She crossed her arms. “And you’re…?”

“AbdulMaleek. But everyone calls me Maleek.”

Of course his name had to sound that good coming from his mouth.

She turned to leave, but he said, “Wait  thanks again. I owe you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Fine,” he said easily, “then let me owe you a drink. At least.”

She gave him a look. “You answer doors half-naked, and now you want to invite me for a drink?”

He shrugged. “I can promise to wear a shirt next time.”

Her lips twitched  she hated that he was funny.
And charming. And tall.
And holding a cat, for crying out loud. What kind of man had muscles and a cat?

She finally managed, “We’ll see. Just… keep your parcel safe.”

“Will do,” he said, smile tilting. “And thanks again, haliyah from 4A.”