Chapter 8: Living with Shadows

After checking the rooms, kitchen, and bathroom, I returned to the living room.

Natalie didn’t disturb me. In the quiet room, only the ticking of the wall clock could be heard.

A slow, deliberate tick, each second slicing through the silence like a warning. The air was thick—too still for a place that should have been full of life.

"When did you move in?"

I told her not to be so formal.

After sitting down, I beckoned to the dog.

But it didn’t move, just lay at the bathroom door, staring at me.

I could hear it breathing, slow and heavy, like it was waiting for something to happen.

"I moved in on January 17th last year. Is that a bad date?"

Natalie sat upright, watching me nervously.

She bit her lower lip, as if bracing herself for bad news. The shadows under her eyes deepened, and she twisted the ring on her finger again.

Hearing this, I stopped my calculations and looked up at her.

"It’s all wrong. Public restroom, hospital, dumpster—these are all places where darkness gathers. In a run-down city neighborhood, with no sunlight, the darkness is even heavier. Your balcony faces the hospital inpatient wing, where people die every day. I don’t need to say more. The location is extremely unlucky. If you can, move."

I let my words hang in the air, letting her feel the weight of it. Sometimes, you have to be blunt to get the point across.

"But I’ve lived here for over a year with no problems, and there’s nowhere else this cheap nearby."

Natalie sighed and asked if there was any other way.

Her voice dropped. "My parents… they need help. And my job’s hanging by a thread. I just can’t afford anything else right now."

Her voice caught on the word "parents," and I could see the burden of family responsibility etched into her face. The American dream isn’t much comfort when you’re working three jobs just to keep your head above water.

Life is important, but so is money.

She looked at me, eyes pleading for an answer that didn’t require her to pack up her life and start over somewhere else.

"To be honest, I’ve asked others, but they all told me to move. If you can’t handle it, I’ll have to find someone else."

At this point, Natalie’s tone turned skeptical.

She folded her arms, chin lifted—a defense mechanism I’d seen a thousand times. Trust isn’t given easily, not when you’ve been burned before.