The marriage had been on autopilot for so long she couldn’t remember the last time her husband had looked at her like she was something worth noticing. They still shared the same bed, still exchanged the same polite goodnights, but the warmth was gone. The air between them was polite, practical, and cold.

It wasn’t until the moving truck pulled up next door that she felt something shift.

He was impossible to miss—tall, strong, with the kind of presence that made her notice even when she didn’t want to. She caught herself watching him unload furniture, the afternoon sun catching in his hair, sweat trailing along his jaw. He glanced over once, and in that fleeting moment, she thought she saw curiosity in his eyes.

The first words they exchanged were nothing—casual neighborly greetings—but his voice stayed with her, low and warm, curling around her thoughts long after she’d gone back inside.

Days later, she found him on her porch, a small smile tugging at his lips as he offered to help with her groceries. His fingers brushed against hers when he took the bags—brief, but enough to send a pulse through her. It shouldn’t have meant anything. And yet, that night she lay awake, her mind replaying that touch over and over.

Now, she notices everything about him. The way his shirt clings when he works in the yard. The lazy way he leans against his fence when he talks to her. The subtle pause before his gaze leaves hers, as if he’s wondering the same thing she is—what would happen if they let the moment linger just a little too long?