Chapter 1 : The Boxes
The moving truck left at noon and took half my life with it.
By 6pm I was standing in the middle of an empty duplex in Soshanguve with a key in one hand and a cardboard box labeled `KITCHEN - DO NOT BREAK` in the other. My phone had 3% battery and one unread text from my mom: _You sure about this, baby?_
I wasn’t.
But I was also 22 and out of options, so I texted back: _Yeah. It’s good here._
It wasn’t good. It was quiet. Too quiet.
The duplex was cheap because nobody wanted to live this close to other people. Two units, one shared wall, one shared fence. Mine was the left side. Paint peeling. Floors that creaked. A kitchen window that looked directly into my neighbor’s yard.
I dropped the box. It made a sad thud.
“First night’s the worst,” I told myself out loud. My voice echoed. I hated it.
I’d spent the last 8 months in my sister’s guest room in Pretoria after everything with Jakes fell apart. After the texts. After the ring I threw in a river. After I realized that “starting over” mostly meant crying in other people’s bathrooms.
Soshanguve was supposed to be different. New job at the clinic. New zip code. New me.
No boys. No drama. No one who knew me.
I was unpacking plates when I heard it.
A voice. Low. Right through the wall.
“...finally moved in.”
I froze. The wall between my living room and the other duplex wasn’t a wall. It was paper and bad decisions.
A second voice answered. Deeper. Amused.
“Took her long enough. She’s been staring at the listing for a week.”
My stomach dropped. They were talking about me.
I set the plate down carefully, like if I moved too fast they’d hear me. I crept to the window.
Outside, on the small patch of grass between our units, stood two guys
The first one was familiar in a way that hurt. Broad shoulders. Dark curls. A faded t-shirt that said `Gauteng Rugby 2022`.
*Ethan.*
We grew up three streets apart. He was my brother’s best friend. He was the one who taught me how to ride a bike and who brought me soup when I had flu in grade 10. He was also the one I ghosted for 4 years after high school because it was easier than explaining why I was engaged to a man he hated.
He looked older. Taller. But it was still Ethan.
The second guy was not familiar at all.
Taller than Ethan. Black button-down, sleeves rolled up. Dark hair, messy like he’d been running his hands through it. He had a glass in his hand. Whiskey, probably. He was leaning against the fence like he owned it.
*Damien.*
Ethan’s older brother. Three years older than me. The one my mom used to whisper about. _That Damien is trouble, Lena. Stay away._
He was looking at my window.
Not through it. At it. Like he knew I was there.
My breath caught.
Ethan followed his gaze and saw me too. His whole face changed.
“Lena?” he said, loud enough to carry. “Is that you?”
I should’ve waved. Should’ve smiled. Should’ve acted normal.
Instead I ducked behind the curtain like a coward.
“Don’t be weird,” Damien said, and I could hear the smirk in it. “You’re scaring her.”
“I’m not scaring anyone,” Ethan shot back. “Lena! It’s me! You need help with boxes?”
I counted to ten. Then I opened the door.
The night air was cold. It smelled like dust and jacaranda.
Ethan was already crossing the grass. Damien didn’t move.
“Hey,” Ethan said when he got to me. He looked me up and down. Took in the hoodie, the bare feet, the box behind me. “You look... good.”
“Thanks,” I said. My voice came out small. “You too.”
Liar. He looked exhausted. Like he hadn’t slept in days.
From the porch, Damien raised his glass. “Welcome to the neighborhood, neighbor.”
His voice was smooth. Too smooth.
“Thanks,” I said to the general direction of him.
Ethan shot him a look. “Ignore him. He’s an asshole.”
“I heard that,” Damien said, unbothered.
“Good.”
An awkward pause. Crickets. The hum of a fridge through my open door.
“You need help?” Ethan asked again.
“I’m okay. Just a few boxes.”
“You sure? Because you look like you’re about to pass out.”
I was. I hadn’t eaten.
Damien pushed off the fence. “I have pizza,” he said. “From earlier. You can have it.”
Ethan blinked. “Since when do you share food?”
“Since our new neighbor looks like she’s going to collapse.” Damien’s eyes flicked to me. Held. “Come get it if you want.”
I didn’t want to. I also didn’t want to eat cereal for dinner.
“Fine,” I muttered. “Just one slice.”
Damien’s duplex was the mirror of mine, but cleaner. Darker. It smelled like cedar and whiskey. There were books everywhere and a guitar in the corner and no photos on the walls.
He handed me a plate. Pepperoni. Still warm.
“Eat,” he said.
“I said one slice.”
“Eat two.”
I took a bite to shut him up. It was good.
Ethan hovered in the doorway. “You didn’t tell me you were moving here.”
“I didn’t tell anyone,” I said. “That was the point.”
He flinched. I felt bad immediately.
“Sorry. I just— I needed space.”
“I get it,” he said, too quickly. “Space is good.”
Damien leaned against the counter, watching us. “So. What happened to the fiancé?”
The pizza turned to ash in my mouth.
“Damien,” Ethan warned.
“What? She’s gonna hear it from someone.” He looked at me. “People talk, Lena.”
I set the plate down. “It’s over.”
“Obviously,” Damien said. “Or you wouldn’t be here.”
I hated him. I hated how he said my name. Like he’d been practicing it.
“I should go,” I said.
“Stay,” Ethan said at the same time Damien said, “Finish your pizza.”
I looked between them. Ethan, safe. Ethan, history. Ethan, the reason I was running from small towns in the first place.
Damien, dangerous. Damien, new. Damien, who looked at me like I was a problem he wanted to solve.
“Thanks for the pizza,” I said, and walked out.
Back in my duplex, I locked the door. Twice.
The wall was still thin. I could hear Damien pouring another drink. I could hear Ethan pacing.
My phone buzzed. Unknown number.
_Sleep well, neighbor. -D_
I deleted it.
I lay on the floor because I hadn’t built the bed yet. Stared at the ceiling.
New town. New start. New neighbors.
One who knew everything about me.
One who wanted to know everything about me.
And I was stuck right between them.
Outside, a car door slammed. Footsteps.
Then silence.
First night. Survived it.
