After the divorce, she lived in a storage unit. One night, she heard a knock from the other side of the wall, and what followed left her frozen…

Sometimes I think that if I had done something differently, anything, perhaps she would still be here. The pain is such that even love seems to have been lost. But writing this, maybe it’s a way to keep alive the part of me that died with her.

She folded the paper carefully, as if handing over a piece of her soul, and slipped it through the gap. She knocked three times and waited, her heart in her throat. The response took longer than usual.

When she finally felt the paper being returned, Livia’s hands were trembling so much that she could barely unfold it. Thank you for trusting me with this part of your story. I can’t say I fully understand your pain, but I know what it’s like to lose something that defines who you are.

Today, celebrate Alice. Not for what could have been, but for what was. For the love you both shared.

For the laughter you can still hear. For the dance that continues in your heart. She is no longer here, but the love you feel for her remains.

And that is something no one can take away from you. That was the first night in a long time that Livia slept without crying. Another week passed.

The notes continued, bringing a silent comfort to both. Livia began to open up more. She talked about Daniel, about how deeply she loved him, but how each look at him was a painful reminder of Alice.

She talked about the guilt she felt for having distanced herself, for not being able to handle the grief alongside him. Your mysterious neighbor also began to reveal more about himself. He talked about the mistakes he made, how he let addictions destroy his family, and about the shame that prevented him from trying to fix things.

It was on a stormy night that everything changed. The rain lashed the city, making the old building groan under the strong wind. Thunder reverberated through the thin walls and the lights flickered threateningly.

Livia was curled up in bed, watching the shadows dance across the room with each lightning bolt when the power finally went out. Complete darkness enveloped her. Instinctively, Livia moved closer to the wall, seeking that connection that had become her safe harbor.

She knocked three times. She waited. Nothing.

He knocked again, harder. Anxiety beginning to grow in his chest. Silence.

Something was wrong. He always answered. Always.

Livia fumbled around the bedside table, finding the small flashlight she kept for emergencies. With her heart racing, she left the room for the dark hallway. The rainwater invaded the floor through the roof leaks, forming puddles that she avoided with difficulty.

She stopped in front of the door next to hers. She hesitated for just a second before knocking. No one answered.

She tried the doorknob. It seemed locked. She looked around, desperate, until her eyes fell on an old fire extinguisher on the wall…