Then a new family moved in next door. As neighbors often do, we exchanged polite waves from the driveway and brief smiles over the fence. They seemed reserved, maybe even a bit distant, but we didn’t think much of it. Everyone has their own story, and not all are meant to be shared immediately.
Life went on.
Until one evening, the father from next door knocked on our front door.
There was no small talk. No pleasantries. His posture was stiff, his voice controlled.
“I need you to stop using the pool at night,” he said.
The words landed heavily. Not because they were cruel, but because they were so abrupt. There was no explanation, no context. Just a request that felt more like a command.
