Jane watched from the balcony as the movers unloaded the van, carrying various sized boxes and furniture into the building. New tenants were moving into the apartment next door. She stepped back into the kitchen, but a sudden scuffling sound from the hallway froze her in her tracks. Panic surged through her, her breath hitching as her heart hammered against her ribs. She pressed her back against the wall, trembling, until Mark walked into the kitchen.
"Hey, what's wrong? It's just me," he said, walking over to kiss her forehead to calm her down. "We have new neighbors, by the way. They're moving in right now."
"Did you see them? Are they young? Do they have kids?" Jane asked breathlessly, though her heart was beginning to find its rhythm again.
"A young couple, no kids from what I could tell. I didn't really stop to chat. We can meet them properly later. Wow, something smells amazing!" Mark took a deep breath and closed his eyes in appreciation.
Jane smiled, finally relaxing, and began setting the table for dinner.
***
Over the weekend, the new neighbor came by to introduce herself. She was a pleasant young woman named Becky, talkative and quick to smile. She asked about the previous tenants and warned Jane that there might be some noise while they did some minor renovations. Her husband, she explained, had wanted to wait until the work was finished before moving in, but she had been too impatient to start life in their first home. They had been living with her mother until now. She mentioned her husband was an avid fisherman and had headed out to the lakes for the weekend, so she decided to ward off the loneliness by getting to know the neighbors.
They shared a pot of tea, and as Becky left, she invited Jane and Mark over for a drink once they were settled in.
For the next week, the walls echoed with the sounds of hammering, drilling, and furniture being dragged across floors. Jane worked from home, and the constant racket grated on her nerves. She still didn't like going out without Mark, so she spent most of her days wearing noise-canceling headphones, trying to drown out the world with music.
One afternoon, she finally decided to brave the outdoors to get some relief from the noise. She couldn't stand the cramped, suffocating space of the elevator, so she took the stairs. Halfway down, a man began coming up toward her. Jane pressed her back against the wall to let him pass, averting her eyes to avoid any contact. Her heart felt like a trapped bird fluttering in her chest, and a cold sweat broke out along her spine. She squeezed her eyes shut. The man glanced at her with a look of utter confusion before hurrying past, taking the stairs three at a time. Jane bolted down the remaining flights.
Only when she reached the sun-drenched sidewalk did she manage to catch her breath, instantly Regretting leaving the safety of her apartment. She walked aimlessly until she saw Mark returning from work, and they went up together.
***
Three weeks later, Becky invited them over. Jane put on her favorite dress, pinned her hair up, and applied a touch of lipstick.
"You look beautiful," Mark said, gently adjusting an earring that had caught in a stray curl. "You ready? Let's go. We won't stay long, I promise."
Jane grabbed a small housewarming gift and followed him next door. As Becky opened the door, the hallway filled with the savory aroma of pot roast mixed with the scent of vanilla and fresh baking.
"Scott, come meet our neighbors, Jane and Mark," Becky announced, stepping inside.
A large, well-built young man rose from the sofa. Mark stepped forward, hand extended for a handshake, and Jane stepped out from behind him. The moment she saw the man's face, the smile died on her lips. The gift dropped from her hands, hitting the floor with a thud. She swayed, clutching her throat as if she couldn't draw air, and spun toward the door in a blind panic. Her trembling fingers fumbled uselessly with the deadbolt. Her vision began to tunnel, the world spinning into darkness as she felt herself slipping away.
"Jane!" Mark's strong arms caught her just before she hit the floor.
"What the hell happened? Is she sick or something?" Scott asked indifferently once Becky returned to the room after seeing the neighbors out.
"She seemed perfectly fine to me," Becky said, shrugging. "I don't get it. Maybe it was the smell of the food? That must be it. She's probably pregnant and dealing with morning sickness. I'm going to go check on her."
A distraught Mark opened the door for her.
"I am so sorry. Is your wife pregnant? Was it the food? I feel terrible, I should have asked—" Becky started, her words tumbling out in an apologetic rush.
"No, my wife isn't pregnant," Mark said, his tone cold and unfriendly.
"Then what happened? Why did she react like that? Is she... ill?" Becky lowered her voice, her eyes filled with genuine sympathy.
"Are you sure you want to know? You won't like it. Your life won't be the same after I tell you," Mark said with chilling seriousness.
"What on earth are you talking about?" Becky pushed past him and walked resolutely into the living room.
Jane was lying on the sofa in her dress, her face turned toward the wall.
"Jane, I'm going to tell her. Then we'll decide what to do," Mark said, cutting Becky off before she could speak.
"Tell me what? Decide what? Stop talking in riddles!" Becky snapped, her nerves frayed by the tension.
"Do what you have to do," Jane replied in a hollow voice, not moving an inch.
Mark led Becky into the kitchen and pulled the door shut.
"Seven years ago... Jane wasn't my wife back then. She was walking home from college one evening. Her dorm was tucked away behind some old courtyards. It was dusk, and the streetlights hadn't come on yet. Those back alleys had no lighting at all."
"Two guys stepped out from behind a building. One of them grabbed her purse. Jane held on—she wouldn't let go. They dragged her into the bushes. She screamed, she fought, but they covered her mouth. No one was around, and if anyone heard, they didn't help. They didn't call the police. They raped her and tried to strangle her. Maybe someone spooked them, or maybe she passed out and they thought she was dead, but they just left her there. Those animals didn't even cover their faces. They were so sure they'd get away with it, so sure she wouldn't survive."
"Needless to say, the police never found them. The detective told her she shouldn't have been walking alone at night—that she'd essentially provoked them. Her recovery took years. She can't have children now. But the psychological damage was the worst. Since then, she can't stand the dark, she can't be in crowds, she's terrified of elevators. She has a paralyzing fear of men. We met at the clinic. I'm a therapist."
"That's horrific," Becky said, her eyes brimming with tears. "But I don't understand... what does this have to do with us?"
"It has nothing to do with you. But it has everything to do with your husband. Jane recognized him. Some things are burned into the mind forever."
Becky went pale, her hands flying to her face. "Is it possible she's mistaken? You said she's afraid of all men."
"She is, yes. But she has never confused anyone else with those men."
"What am I supposed to do? My husband... I can't believe it. Yes, he can be rough, especially when he's been drinking, but I never imagined... Mark, what do I do? You're right, everything is different now..." Tears began to stream down Becky's face.
"The only right thing to do is go to the police," Mark said, his voice calm and steady. "A criminal should be punished. You saw what they did to my wife."
"It can't be true. It's been so many years. How can anyone prove it now?" Becky whispered, desperate for a way out.
"It can be proven. They took skin and blood samples from under Jane's fingernails... she fought back. DNA testing exists now. I'm not an investigator, but I know science doesn't forget," Mark paused. "Becky, surely you realize Jane can't live next door to your husband. What would you do if you were us?"
"We just bought this place, we just finished the work... God, what am I saying?" Becky covered her face again. She stood up and, moving as if her feet were made of lead, walked to the door.
Mark watched her go with a heavy heart. He felt for the woman who had just discovered the truth about her husband, but his heart broke more for Jane. It had taken so much time and effort for her to start living again, to trust him. And now they would have to start all over. He went and sat beside his wife. But minutes later, the doorbell rang again. Jane flinched, clutching Mark in terror.
"I'm here. Don't be afraid," he whispered, kissing her before going to open the door.
It was Becky, her face red and bloated from crying.
"He... it's true..." she choked out through her sobs. "I went back... his things... he ran. He took his clothes and all our cash..." She broke down completely, sobbing against Mark's chest.
He led her into the kitchen and gave her a glass of water.
"I'm sorry. By running, he's removed all doubt. He's confessed. Please, give us all his details. It will help the police find him faster. Actually, don't worry—they'll be coming to see you anyway. Becky, I know this is hard, but there's no other way."
The police were initially hesitant to pursue Scott, citing Jane's mental history. But after some time, he was finally apprehended. He denied everything at first, shouting that a "crazy woman" had mistaken him for someone else after all these years. However, his immediate flight from the apartment was used as damning evidence. He hadn't even recognized his victim; he had simply been a man with everything to hide and everything to fear.
Eventually, Scott confessed and gave up his accomplice, who was already serving time for theft. The partner, bitter that Scott had remained free while he was in prison, confirmed everything.
In the months that followed, it was as if Jane had been reborn. She was still wary of elevators and crowds, but she began to go out more—to the store, for walks—and not just with Mark, but with Becky, who remained their neighbor for a while longer.
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