Novel & Cerita My Black Neighbor

Black stated dangerously – causing her to look at him with her eyes wide. “H-How… H-How…” She was confused – that she couldn’t even complete the sentence that she wanted to ask them. She licked her lower lip – as if she could find the right words. But Mr. Black continued his words – when he realized what she wanted to ask her. “Donovan… He is a former member of a nearby pack, Leila.” Mr. Black finally revealed. Her breathing hitched – as she took a gasp. Too much information was clouding her mind.

And though I don’t intend on checking him out like I am currently, I don’t have a choice right now. “I haven’t seen you around, are you new here?” I ask him and look away to keep my eyes busy from looking at his vaguely familiar handsome features. He’s black, so good to have that in common with my neighbor, although my dad’s white. Not to be racist but I consider myself black since my skin and hair doesn’t speak different, Kara on the other hand took after my father. Light skinned, dark brown hair, almost mistaken for black in poor lighting. He clears his throat and I look up at him. I didn’t mean to drift away from him. “I’m Baddie, not exactly new, I had the place renovated” he extends his

******** Black walked all the way from his building to the old lady’s building so other workers in the house can see him. The guards were surprised to see him walk too and they almost pulled out their phones to record but in sitting at Black’s fierce look, they became frozen. Instead, Black gave them a head nod that they are free to record. They followed him all leaving their post to go and watch the healing speech he was going to give. When his grandmother’s maids saw him from afar, they were confused because he looked like the Black that they know but the Black they know can’t walk and he’s got an ugly scar on his face that he covers with a mask.

The Ruiz family's got some weird kinks. The lady sets the tray, with three mugs, on the table without a word and slips back out; leaving behind the faint scent of perfume and the warmth of her presence. Mr. Black crosses his legs, folding his arms across his chest with easy poise, and fixes me with a look that’s equal parts friendly and probing. “So, is my nephew good to you?” he asks, lifting a mug from the tray like it’s part of a ceremony. Damon takes his without a glance at me.

The bus spat me out onto the curb with the rest of the morning rush. Suits, heels, umbrellas—everyone moving like ants toward the steel and glass giant looming over the block. Black Enterprises. It never looked like a building to me. More like a warning. A polished monument built to remind the rest of us that the Blacks always won, no matter who had to bleed for it. And still, my feet carried me closer. Every instinct screamed to walk away, but my gut had already made the choice back in my apartment when Irene’s voice still clung to the walls. He’ll destroy you the way he destroyed me.

Black followed and saw her vomiting. “What happened to you?” Black asked, puzzled. “I feel dizzy.” She vomited again. “Gross. Hurry. The mango.” Black ran to the kitchen and peeled the mangos he had bought at the market. The doorbell rang... “Auntie Mary, there’s someone outside. Please check,” Black ordered the housekeeper. “Okay, Sir.” The housekeeper went out and immediately recognized the visitor. “Good evening. Are you looking for Sir Black?” “Yes,” Grey said.

And why did it feel like she’d just brushed against something dangerous enough to destroy her? She unlocked her apartment with trembling fingers and stepped inside, leaning back against the door once it shut. Her chest rose and fell too fast as she tried to steady herself. This was ridiculous. He was just a neighbor. A rich, arrogant neighbor with an unsettling presence. Nothing more. Yet, even as she told herself that, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she had already been noticed in a way she couldn’t undo. Next door, Caeldrin Blackwood stood in silence as the door clicked shut behind him.

It was plain brown, but the weight of it was significant, and the shipping label was stark, black, and expensive-looking. The address, however, was wrong. It read "Apt 3B," but he was in 3A. The name printed in bold, elegant font was "M. Thorne." Leo had lived in the Oakwood Gardens apartment complex for two years and had never met his neighbor in 3B. He’d only ever heard the faint, deep thrum of a bass guitar late at night and seen the occasional sliver of light under the door. The neighbor was a ghost, a nocturnal creature whose existence was marked only by silence and shadow.

Mr. Black’s footsteps echoed through the dim hallway as he made his way to the lower levels of the building. It was a place reserved for special cases, the types of people he couldn’t trust within the walls of a regular cell. And tonight, Uncle Nick had earned himself a spot here, his smug expression seared into Mr. Black’s memory as he was dragged out of the SUV.

The evening started the same way most of them did. We finished the dishes together, and Uncle Robert asked if I wanted to watch something before bed. I told him I needed a bath first. The day had been warm, and I felt sticky from being outside earlier. “Go ahead,” he said. “I’ll wait.” I went upstairs and filled the tub. The water ran hot while I chose what to wear afterward. Most nights I put on ordinary pajamas, but tonight I reached for the black nightie I had packed and never worn.