I know the rules. I’d break them a thousand times over for her.
She lives next door. I see her leave before sunrise and come home after dark, carrying more than a woman her age should. Work, school, a teenage brother she never planned to raise.
I don’t know her well, but I can tell she’s running on empty. So I help where I can. I fix the break in her fence. I keep an eye on her brother.
I replace the porch light she hasn’t had time to deal with. And I tell myself I’m too old to want the kind of smile she gives me.
Then she becomes my assignment. The woman I’ve been watching from a distance is suddenly the one person I’m not allowed to touch. Being around her makes everything harder. Every look feels loaded.
Every moment alone feels dangerous. She trusts me because I’m steady. Because I’m older. Because I’m safe.
The rules I live by should be enough to stop me. They aren’t. And that might be the worst part. I know exactly what crossing that line would cost me.
I just never expected the girl next door to be the reason I’d risk everything.
