Chapter 1: Unseen Lines and Unsaid Words

In the third month of chasing after my devastatingly handsome neighbor—the one who radiates 'married man, do not disturb' energy—he finally updated my contact in his phone from “Landlord” to “Nice Landlord.” Not exactly romantic, but hey—progress is progress.

Still, I wasn’t about to give up. Every morning I’d drop by with coffee or a tray of muffins, every night I’d offer to help with dinner or laundry. I kept telling myself: slow and steady wins the race, right?

Then the bullet comments showed up.

[Can this side character get a clue? This constant pestering is seriously disgusting]

[But thanks to her being a free babysitter for three months, the male lead had more time to get close to the female lead]

Me? Babysitter? My jaw dropped, blood pounding in my ears. I rolled up my sleeves, ready to fight a battle no one else could see. My hands balled into fists, cheeks burning with outrage.

Suddenly, my phone vibrated in my palm, the buzz sharp and cold against my skin. I flinched, heart skipping, and stared down in confusion as comments kept popping up—like weird, glowing pop-ups in a video game overlaying my world. What the hell was happening?

Before I could process any of it, a familiar notification chimed. My heart leapt, as it always did when his name appeared on my screen.

[I need to go out for something. Can I ask you to watch Hunter?]

The contact name flashed: Neighbor Hot Single Dad.

Normally, I would’ve jumped at the chance. That’s what I’d done every time for the last three months—dropping everything, canceling plans, upending my schedule just to help him out. But those bullet comments kept looping in my head, floating like strange subtitles, and for once I hesitated. My thumbs hovered, then, possessed, I typed:

[What are you going out for?]

As soon as I sent it, regret flooded me. Was I really about to question the guy who trusted me with his kid? For once, I wished I could just hit “undo” on my own mouth.

Ryan Mitchell was a fortress. I’d learned that the hard way—those boundaries weren’t moving for anyone.

He always had this polite half-smile—friendly enough, but you could tell he kept his real thoughts locked up tight. If I ever asked about his day or his past, he’d close up like a steel trap, the conversation dead on arrival.

The bullet comments flickered again, scrolling across my vision like I’d accidentally turned on a weird streaming service:

[Obviously he's going to meet the female lead, but why would he tell you that?]

[The male lead hates it when people pry. This side character really hits all his buttons every single day]

I blinked hard, trying to shake the bizarre hallucination. Still, I couldn’t help but pout, my lower lip jutting out like a kid who just got told no dessert.

But I wasn’t just anybody—I was the Nice Landlord, the woman he trusted with his son! I knew Hunter’s favorite cartoons, his bedtime routine, even how he liked his sandwiches cut. How could he possibly—

[Some personal matter.]

...Okay.

My last shred of hope curled up and died. Just like that.