Her fingers get caught in the drawer, and she screams as blood starts dripping from them. A chill spreads through me at the sight of her swollen, bloody fingers, but I force myself to mask my horror.
"You okay?" I ask.
She manages a pained smile, shaking her hand. "Totally," she replies.
I nod, though I can tell she's anything but okay. Her hand is still shaking, and she's trying to force a smile through the pain.
"Five hundred dollars," she says, extending her other hand.
I pull out my credit card and hand it to her. She glances at it as if she's never seen one before. My eyes wander around the room, taking in the apartment I haven't even been shown yet. It feels strange—normally, people show you the apartment first, and you pay only if you like it. But here, it's the opposite. Even if I don't like the apartment, I have to stay here for God knows how long.
When I first arrived and asked to see the place, she dismissed me, saying she couldn't let me in because of the "privacy policy" for other tenants. I wonder who these tenants are, who want to mask their lives from the rest of the world.
I hand her the money, surprising her by offering to pay in full. She looks shocked. "People usually pay in cash," she says, grinning.
She gives me a wrinkled smile as she hands over the key. "Room 141," she says. "You'll love it here, for sure."
I doubt that, but I keep quiet. I'll make myself love it. Really.
I'm surprised to learn that my apartment is right next to hers. Miss Penelope lives in apartment 140, and mine is right beside it. I wonder where he lives. There are eight apartments on this floor, and while I know who occupies two of them, the other six are a mystery.
As I open the door to my apartment, dragging my two heavy bags behind me, I take in the space. "What the hell?" I mutter. The apartment is tiny and bare. A small sink in the corner, a single bed, and a metal cupboard. No air conditioning, no fridge, not even a proper stove. The room reeks of stale air, and it's so hot I doubt I can last a minute. I fumble for a switch, turning on the fan and the light. As soon as the fan starts, a cloud of dust fills the room, making me cough as I rush out into the hallway.
"You okay?" someone calls. I look up to see two guys standing at the door of apartment 145.
"Not really," I say, clearing my throat.
The blond one chuckles. "Dust, huh?"
"Enough to fill my lungs," I reply. They laugh, exchanging glances.
"New here?" the shorter one asks.
"Just moved in five minutes ago," I say.
"I'm Eli Thompson, and this is Lucus," he says, introducing the other guy.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Ariella," I reply.
"Happy moving in," Lucus smirks before they both retreat into their apartment.
I stand there, the reality of my new living situation sinking in. This tiny room is where I'll eat, sleep, and live for who knows how long. But I remind myself that I'm here for a reason—no matter how tough it gets, I'll endure it.
After a few hours of cleaning, I've rid the room of dust. It still stinks, but now it's bearable. I sit on the bed, testing it. Surprisingly, it's in decent shape. With the room cleaned, I decide to go buy some groceries. There isn't a store nearby, so I walk a kilometer to find one, picking up essentials like instant ramen, some fruit, and snacks.
On the way back, I buy some sushi, Edward had loved. He begged me to make it for him on the day he died, but I didn't. I told him I'd cook it after I got back from visiting a friend. But he never made it there alive. That memory still brings tears to my eyes.
When I return, I find several tenants gathered in the hallway, staring. Miss Penelope grabs my hand. "I called everyone to introduce you," she announces.
I freeze, uncomfortable under their blank stares. Most of them are men.
"This is Ariella Stone," she says, her voice taking on a mocking tone. "She paid her rent in full."
A man in glasses sighs loudly. Just then, the door across from my apartment opens, and a young woman steps out. She looks exhausted, her blond hair damp with sweat. She's tall and visibly pregnant, clutching her stomach as she moves.
"Hello, I'm Ariella. I just moved in," I say, smiling.
"That's nice," she says, managing a weary smile of her own. She seems genuinely happy, but the way she holds herself makes it clear she's uncomfortable here. I wonder what circumstances brought her to this place.
A voice pulls me from my thoughts. "I'm Graham Sinclair," the man with the glasses says.
"Nice to meet you," I reply, trying to keep my composure.
"And I'm Eli Thompson," the brunet from earlier adds, "and this is Lucas Reed."
I offer a polite smile to each of them, my mind already racing with questions. This is my new home, for better or worse. I'll make it work, no matter what.
"Is that all?" I ask.
"No, there's also the meat shop owner, Frank Donovan," Miss Penelope says. Eli releases a slight cough that catches my attention. I sense it's a fake cough.
"Yeah, and his daughter, Emily," Miss Penelope adds. I can tell something's off about Emily just by scanning their faces; they all look uneasy, like something happened to her.
"My husband, Victor, is working late today," Hannah says with a smile.
"And this room?" I ask, pointing to room number 146.
"Ahh, you really don't need to know," Miss Penelope scoffs, then goes inside her room, shutting the door tightly behind her. Her reaction puts me in deep thought. Who lives there? Could it be Edward?
Hannah opens the door to her own room and glances back at me. "Mr. Ralph Gregor lives there, and trust me, you'll hate it if he interacts with you," she says.
I stand in the hallway, waiting for someone else to speak, but they all go inside their rooms, leaving only Eli.
"Wanna have some brunch?" he asks.
"Oh, thanks, but I just bought sushi," I say, showing him the bags.
He smiles at them. "Ah, well, is there one more person?" I ask.
"Yes, actually. I totally forgot about him. Room 142, there." He points to the room next to mine. "He comes in late every day," he adds.
"Oh," I say, but before I can ask more, Lucas calls him inside.
He definitely lives here, and I want to know if fate really brought us together again. Coincidences like this don't just happen. I'd be a fool to take it for granted. I can't wait to see you again, Edward.
✯✯✯
Miss Phenolpe tells me that we're not allowed to cook in our rooms. Another weird rule, just like everything else in this place. She says that if I want to eat, I can cook in the common kitchen at the end of the corridor. I don't mind, though. Ever since Edward's death, I don't remember eating regularly or fully. It's as if my appetite, my sleep, and my peace all died with him.
I want to eat today. A lot.
I cook the ramen, fry some broccoli, and make a fried egg. I've already added a lot of cheese to the ramen, making it extra creamy.
It's still 11, and he isn't back yet. I'm dying to see him. He has no idea how many nights I've spent without him. Those nights were so cold until the day I saw him again. And ever since that day, I've told myself, Edward. You're my mission. Getting to you is the only aim of my life, and I won't let you go this time. No matter what.
I see a tall shadow in the kitchen. I place the hot pot of ramen on the table and glance to see who it is.
That height, 6'3", those broad shoulders and chest. Those full lips. That sharp nose and pale skin.
That's it.
If I'm not mistaken, it's Edward. My Edward.
His feet freeze in the doorway when he spots me. A 5'4" woman in a blue hoodie and white shorts, holding a fork, stunned and frozen. Our eyes lock—his, with dark circles and sleeplessness. He looks different. He's wearing a white shirt and black pants, holding a black briefcase.
Edward avoided wearing white because he was so pale. It never suited him.
Something's off. His eyes are different. They aren't joyful or cheerful like Edward's were. His hair is black, but I wonder how the style is still the same. Edward loved his red hair. It went well with his pale skin.
I'm sure this guy looks like him, but I can't be sure anymore. He looks just like Edward, yet he doesn't feel like him.
"Are you done staring?" he asks, his posture and expression still as ever.
"Ah..." His voice surprises me. It even sounds like Edward. I feel relieved hearing it, after so long.
"You're the one who moved into room 141?" he asks, sitting at the table.
"Oh, yes. Hello." I smile at him.
I can't stop looking at him, but it doesn't feel like I'm looking at Edward. He's a different person.
"Did you eat?" I ask.
"I'm about to," he says, placing his briefcase on the table and eyeing the hot pot.
"Eat this, then," I offer.
"Can I really eat this?" he asks, surprised.
"Of course, why not?"
"No, I mean, we've just met," he says, unbuttoning the first button of his shirt. It's hot in here.
"Oh, yes. Well, I'm Ariella Stone," I introduce myself.
"Nice to meet you, Miss Stone. I'm Joshua."
"Joshua," I repeat.
"So, did you move in alone or…?"
"No, totally on my own," he replies.
"Student?" he asks, washing his hands at the sink.
"I work, actually," I say.
"You still look too young to live alone."
I give him a slight smile.
"What about you? You look very young, too." Even though I joke, he looks offended.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that. I mean, you don't look that much older..."
He laughs. Really big.
"What's your age?" he asks, sitting at the table.
"22," I reply.
"I'm 35," he says.
"No way. You can't be thirty-five."
Edward was almost 40. Maybe this guy looks different because he's younger than Edward. Edward also looked like him when he was 35, but I never saw him at that age.
"What do you think my age would be?" he asks.
"Not sure, but definitely younger than this," I reply.
He chuckles slightly.
"Thanks for the food," he says, digging in. Even though he's not Edward, everything about him keeps reminding me of him—the way he eats. I know I'm damaged because of Edward's death, devastated to my core, but seeing Joshua is somewhat relieving. Not healing my wounds, but at least relieving them.
"Why aren't you eating?" he asks, looking up.
"Oh, I don't eat meat or eggs."
"You're a vegetarian?" he asks.
"Yeah, kind of. I'm allergic to eggs and don't eat meat or chicken or even fish. So, yeah, I guess I am."
"Who did you make this for, then?" he asks, giving me a side-eye.
"I thought someone might join me," I say.
"And I came out of nowhere."
"Plus, the owner said that another guy is coming, so I thought maybe you hadn't eaten." I lie.
"It cooked really well," he compliments.
I smile and continue eating my simple veg ramen.
"Sorry, but can I ask what you do for a living?" I ask.
He gives me a look as if my question offends him somehow.
"I mean, you came in so late."
"I'm a surgeon," he replies.
"What kind?" I ask.
"Cardiologist."
"Ah, I see."
"What about you?" he asks.
"I work at Golden Haven Worldwide," I answer.
"What's that?" he asks.
"It's a corporation that owns 5-star hotels," I reply.
"What do you do there?" he asks.
"You ask a lot of questions," I laugh.
"Just curious."
"I'm the CEO," I answer.
His eyes widen in surprise. I burst into laughter.
"Just kidding. I'm actually the secretary of the CEO," I add.
"Still, it's a big position for someone living in a place like this," he says.
"Everyone has their reasons," I reply.
"I was born in a place like this and grew up in a place smaller than this. Big apartments don't suit me. It's like an allergy," I explain.
He nods and continues eating.
"So, what should I call you?" I ask.
"You said you're 22, right?" he says.
"Yeah."
"You can call me Josh if you want to."
"Yeah, that works."
His smile is wicked. It's filthy. For some reason, I don't like it at all. His lips are red as blood, which makes it even more unsettling. Something about this man is off. What am I missing?
He finishes his food, but I'm not done yet. I still want to trace his facial features. Everything matches so well. Even if I want to deny it and tell myself he's just a guy with a similar face, I can't. Even the moles on his face are the same. That's disturbing. He has to be Edward. I don't know if my mind is playing games with me or if I'm so desperate for Edward's presence that I'm just putting his tag on any guy.
"I'll go to my room now. Thanks for the food," he smirks at me and leaves.
I don't feel like going back to my room, so I stay in the kitchen for a while. That's when I meet Graham Sinclair. He's one very attractive man. This building has some very attractive men.
He approaches with cat-like steps.
"You shouldn't be here," he says.
"Sorry."
"This place isn't for you. Not just you, but no normal person with a stable mind should be here. You look alright, so just leave."
"Why? Has something happened here?" I ask.
"These people are weird," he whispers.
"Like how?" I whisper back.
He sighs.
"If you're that curious, then stay. There's a saying that the curious one dies first." And he just leaves with a water bottle from the fridge.