Ethan felt her gaze before he saw it. A weight, invisible but suffocating, pressed into his back as he reached the stairwell landing. His steps slowed, just for a second, betraying him. Then, the softest sound. A creak. His jaw clenched as he turned his head—just slightly, just enough. And there she was. Sienna. Framed in the dim glow of her apartment hallway, leaning against the doorframe as if she had all the time in the world. Her dark waves were a tousled mess, strands slipping over her bare shoulder, framing her sharp collarbone. The oversized T-shirt she wore barely reached her thighs, hanging off one shoulder, revealing smooth, tempting skin. Ethan swallowed hard. Damn her. She had just been with another man. He had seen it, heard it. His pulse had throbbed with every broken sound she made, every soft moan slipping through those walls, and still— Still. She stood there now, like a ghost haunting him, like she knew exactly what she was doing to him. His knuckles tig
Ethan slammed the door to his apartment behind him, his breath coming in ragged, uneven pulls. His hands were shaking, his heart pounding so hard it echoed in his skull. He felt sick. Disgusted. Betrayed. And yet— Why the hell was he still thinking about her? His body still burned from the way Sienna had looked at him. That brief second when their eyes met—before she shut the door in his face, sealing herself away with another man. A client. Ethan squeezed his eyes shut, dragging both hands through his hair. You’re a fucking idiot. Of course, she was with someone. He had always known what she did, who she was. She never pretended to be anything else. So why did it feel like she had taken a knife to his gut? He braced himself against the edge of his bed, his fingers digging into the sheets as if grounding himself. But it didn’t help. The images wouldn’t stop—the soft moans he had heard through the walls, the way her voice had melted into pleasure, the way she had said his n
Ethan tried to ignore her. Tried to erase the image of her from his mind. Tried to forget the way she had looked at him—the way her lips had curved around his name like it was some kind of forbidden pleasure. But it was impossible. Everywhere he went, she was there. Not physically—he made damn sure to avoid her. He took the long way to the stairs instead of passing by her door. He ignored the temptation to linger by the wall when he knew she was home. He even kept his headphones in at night, blasting white noise just to drown out the possibility of hearing her again. But it wasn’t enough. She was in his thoughts. In his bones. In the flickering neon lights that cast shadows against his window. In the scent of cigarette smoke that drifted faintly through the vents, making his stomach twist. And worst of all, she was in his dreams. Ethan lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, his sheets twisted around his legs. His body was hot, his mind restless. Every time he closed his eyes,
The air smelled of dust and cheap disinfectant. Ethan stood in the dimly lit hallway of his new apartment building, gripping a single brass key in his hand. The fluorescent lights above flickered, buzzing like a dying insect. The wallpaper, once white, had faded into a dull yellow, peeling at the corners, revealing years of neglect beneath.He shifted his duffel bag on his shoulder, exhaling slowly. This was it.A fresh start.Or at least, that was the plan.The hallway stretched before him, lined with identical wooden doors, each bearing a tarnished brass number barely clinging to its surface. Apartment 3B—his new home—stood just a few steps away. As he approached, he passed by an elderly woman sitting on a rickety folding chair outside her door. Her wrinkled fingers cradled a cigarette, her sharp gaze flickering toward him as she exhaled a slow puff of smoke.“New tenant?” she rasped, her voice like crumpled paper.Ethan hesitated, adjusting his glasses. “Uh… yeah. Just moved in.”S
Ethan’s morning started with the sound of a car alarm blaring in the distance. He groaned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he adjusted to his new surroundings. The old mattress creaked beneath him as he sat up, stretching his stiff limbs. The sunlight that filtered through his dusty window was weak, barely making a dent in the gloom of his tiny apartment. His stomach rumbled. Food. Right. He had forgotten to buy groceries last night after being too distracted by the… sounds from next door. He shook his head, trying to push the memory away.As he stepped into the cramped kitchenette, he paused at the sound of a door opening in the hallway.Her door.His pulse quickened despite himself. He hadn’t seen her yet, but he knew she was there. The mysterious woman next door—the source of the laughter, the teasing giggles, the low murmurs. Last night had been his first taste of her presence, though he hadn’t even laid eyes on her.But now, he could.Moving with uncharacteristic curiosity, Et
Ethan wasn’t prepared for this.He had barely gotten over the mortifying interaction with Sienna that morning, yet here he was, standing awkwardly in the hallway with his grocery bag clutched against his chest like a makeshift shield.She was leaning against her doorframe again, dressed in nothing but a loose crop top and the shortest pair of shorts he had ever seen. Her long legs stretched out lazily, crossed at the ankles, while a mischievous smirk played on her lips.“Oh, look who’s back,” she mused, tilting her head as if examining something fascinating. “Survived your first night?”Ethan swallowed hard. His fingers gripped the paper bag tighter, the weight of the milk jug and cereal box inside grounding him to reality. He wanted to respond—something smooth, something normal—but words refused to cooperate.“I—yeah,” he mumbled, his voice betraying him by cracking slightly.Her smirk deepened. “That’s a relief. I thought maybe the… ambient sounds might have been too much for you.”
Ethan hadn’t meant to notice her so much.It started subtly—glimpses in the hallway, catching sight of her through his peephole as she came and went at odd hours. Then, it became something more. He found himself watching from his small kitchen window, the angle just perfect to peek at the balcony across from his. Sienna’s balcony.She spent a lot of time there. Smoking. Talking on the phone. Sometimes just leaning over the railing, staring at the world below with a pensive expression that didn’t match her usual playful demeanor.Ethan told himself it wasn’t watching—not in a creepy way. He wasn’t spying. He was simply… noticing. Observing. After all, she was right there. So close. So easy to see.Tonight was no different. He stood by his kitchen sink, pretending to rinse a plate as he glanced through the window. Sienna was out on the balcony, dressed in a silk robe that barely clung to her shoulders, her long legs crossed lazily as she scrolled through her phone. A cigarette dangled b
Ethan had always been a light sleeper. A shifting shadow, a distant siren, even the creak of an old pipe was enough to stir him awake. It wasn’t a problem back in his childhood home, where the silence stretched uninterrupted through the night. But here, in this cramped apartment, silence was a luxury he didn’t have.Tonight, the noises were different.He lay in bed, his thin blanket half-draped over his chest, eyes locked on the ceiling. His room was dark, save for the faint glow from the streetlamp outside, casting long shadows across the floor. It had been an exhausting day—between unpacking and the disastrous encounter with Sienna earlier, his brain should have been too fried to overthink.But then the sounds started.At first, it was just laughter—soft, lilting, feminine. Her voice. Sienna’s. Muffled through the too-thin walls, playful and teasing. The sound slithered into his ears, wrapping around his thoughts like smoke.Then came a man’s voice. Deep, smooth, unfamiliar.Ethan’s
Ethan tried to ignore her. Tried to erase the image of her from his mind. Tried to forget the way she had looked at him—the way her lips had curved around his name like it was some kind of forbidden pleasure. But it was impossible. Everywhere he went, she was there. Not physically—he made damn sure to avoid her. He took the long way to the stairs instead of passing by her door. He ignored the temptation to linger by the wall when he knew she was home. He even kept his headphones in at night, blasting white noise just to drown out the possibility of hearing her again. But it wasn’t enough. She was in his thoughts. In his bones. In the flickering neon lights that cast shadows against his window. In the scent of cigarette smoke that drifted faintly through the vents, making his stomach twist. And worst of all, she was in his dreams. Ethan lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, his sheets twisted around his legs. His body was hot, his mind restless. Every time he closed his eyes,
Ethan slammed the door to his apartment behind him, his breath coming in ragged, uneven pulls. His hands were shaking, his heart pounding so hard it echoed in his skull. He felt sick. Disgusted. Betrayed. And yet— Why the hell was he still thinking about her? His body still burned from the way Sienna had looked at him. That brief second when their eyes met—before she shut the door in his face, sealing herself away with another man. A client. Ethan squeezed his eyes shut, dragging both hands through his hair. You’re a fucking idiot. Of course, she was with someone. He had always known what she did, who she was. She never pretended to be anything else. So why did it feel like she had taken a knife to his gut? He braced himself against the edge of his bed, his fingers digging into the sheets as if grounding himself. But it didn’t help. The images wouldn’t stop—the soft moans he had heard through the walls, the way her voice had melted into pleasure, the way she had said his n
Ethan felt her gaze before he saw it. A weight, invisible but suffocating, pressed into his back as he reached the stairwell landing. His steps slowed, just for a second, betraying him. Then, the softest sound. A creak. His jaw clenched as he turned his head—just slightly, just enough. And there she was. Sienna. Framed in the dim glow of her apartment hallway, leaning against the doorframe as if she had all the time in the world. Her dark waves were a tousled mess, strands slipping over her bare shoulder, framing her sharp collarbone. The oversized T-shirt she wore barely reached her thighs, hanging off one shoulder, revealing smooth, tempting skin. Ethan swallowed hard. Damn her. She had just been with another man. He had seen it, heard it. His pulse had throbbed with every broken sound she made, every soft moan slipping through those walls, and still— Still. She stood there now, like a ghost haunting him, like she knew exactly what she was doing to him. His knuckles tig
Ethan stood frozen.His hand still gripped the doorknob of his apartment, knuckles white, but he didn’t move. He couldn’t.The sounds filtering through the thin walls were too much—too vivid, too real.Soft moans. Breathless laughter. The rustle of fabric against skin. The unmistakable creak of the mattress.Sienna.She was in there, just beyond that wall, tangled with someone else. And she wasn’t stopping. She wasn’t hesitating.She was letting him hear.Ethan squeezed his eyes shut, his pulse hammering in his throat. He told himself to turn away, to walk into his bedroom and drown it out, to bury himself under blankets or blast music loud enough to erase the sounds seeping into his bones.But he didn’t.Instead, he turned. Slowly, painfully, as if dragged by some unseen force, he stepped toward her door. The light still poured from the small gap where it hadn’t closed all the way. An invitation. A temptation.Don’t do this.But his feet carried him forward anyway.Ethan’s fingers br
Ethan had always thought of himself as a rational man. Someone who didn’t let emotions cloud his judgment. He prided himself on self-control, on the ability to stay detached when necessary.But as he stood there, frozen outside Sienna’s apartment, his knuckles tightening, he realized—he had never been more wrong.The door was slightly ajar. A sliver of golden light spilled into the dim hallway, casting a thin line across the floor. He should have turned around. He should have walked back to his apartment and slammed the door shut behind him, erasing whatever he was about to see from his mind before it destroyed him.But his feet wouldn’t move.Instead, they carried him forward, one step at a time, until he was close enough to see inside.At first, it was just a flicker of movement. The curve of her bare shoulder, the way her dark hair cascaded down her back, loose and wild. The silk strap of her dress slid from her arm, hanging precariously, as if it could slip off at any moment.And
A few days later, Ethan saw Sienna's door open again, he should have known what happened since he had seen it, but curiosity enveloped Ethan who seemed to never be satisfied when it came to Sienna.Ethan stood frozen in the dimly lit hallway, his pulse thundering in his ears. The door—Sienna’s door—was ajar, just enough to betray a sliver of light, a soft golden glow spilling into the darkness. It was an invitation. Or a trap.He should walk away.He should turn around, go back to his room, and pretend he hadn’t noticed.But he couldn’t.The air between them had been charged for weeks, an unbearable tension that neither of them acknowledged, yet both of them indulged. The lingering glances, the teasing smiles, the way she said his name like a whispered secret. And now, this. A door left open—deliberately.His fingers trembled as he pressed them lightly against the wood, nudging it just enough to widen the space. His breath caught as he peeked inside.Sienna was seated at the edge of h
Ethan knew he should stop. He knew he should turn away, shut his door, and drown himself in the distractions of his books, his sketches—anything but this. But he didn’t. It started with a sound—low murmurs, a breathy laugh—drifting through the paper-thin walls. He recognized her voice instantly, but it was different tonight. It wasn’t the teasing, confident tone she usually used with him. It was softer, sultrier. His heart pounded as he stood frozen by his door, staring at the thin line of golden light spilling from Sienna’s slightly open doorway. He shouldn’t look. Don’t look, Ethan. But something about the way the door wasn’t completely shut, the way the soft sounds of movement filtered through, made it impossible for him to move away. He took a step closer. His pulse hammered in his ears as he peered through the narrow gap. Th
Ethan tried to go about his day as if nothing had happened, but Sienna's words lingered like an echo in his mind. Emotions make people weak, Ethan. You should learn that before it gets you hurt. It was ridiculous, wasn’t it? That one moment of vulnerability, one night of muffled sobs behind thin walls, could shake him so much? But it did. It bothered him that she had dismissed it so easily, as if her pain was nothing more than a passing inconvenience. By the time evening rolled around, he had exhausted himself with overthinking. His laptop lay open on the desk, untouched for hours, a blank document staring back at him. He had barely eaten. He had barely done anything. His thoughts kept circling back to her. Finally, he gave up. He needed a break. Maybe some fresh air. Maybe he just needed to see her, even if it was from a distance. Stepping out of his ap
Ethan barely slept that night. The sound of Sienna crying had unsettled him in a way he couldn’t quite shake. It had been soft at first—muffled, broken sobs barely slipping through the thin walls. But then they’d become harsher, raw, as if something deep inside her had shattered. He had sat up in bed, staring at the wall that separated them, his chest aching.He wanted to knock on her door. To do something. But what right did he have? She had brushed off his confession like it was nothing. She had told him to go home, and yet here he was, unable to think of anything else but her pain.By morning, he was exhausted but determined. He couldn’t just pretend he hadn’t heard anything. As soon as he heard movement from her apartment, he was out the door.Sienna was locking her door when he stepped into the hallway. She was dressed as immaculately as ever—tight jeans, a cropped black top, her hair pulled into