— Hi, Sophie! — chirped a little girl, darting out of her apartment ahead of her mother.
In her hands, she clutched a tiny toy train and a colorful bucket brimming with sand molds.
— Hi, Vicky! Hello, Anna! — replied the young woman opening the door to the neighboring apartment.
She juggled three bulging bags, clearly struggling with the lock.
— Oh, what’s all this? Planning a feast or building a whole sandcastle fortress? — she asked with mock curiosity, crouching down to inspect the bucket’s contents.
— Yes! A feast! And castles! Mom’s taking me to the park. I’m meeting Tommy there, can you believe it? We’ve never hung out before, but today we’re having a real competition! And I’m gonna win! — the girl boasted in a bright, ringing voice.
— Hello! — Vicky’s mother greeted politely.
She was trying to teach her daughter not to address everyone so informally, setting an example herself, though she was older than Sophie.
— Honestly, it’s Sunday, and I get no peace from her. Since morning, it’s been “Let’s go!” and “Come on!”—no refusals accepted, like it or not. At least the park’s close, just a couple of blocks. Can you imagine? They want to go somewhere, as if the sandbox at kindergarten or in the courtyard isn’t enough. — She shook her head.
— Oh, Mom! Everyone’s going to be there. How can I miss it? They’ll laugh at me! I have to win and show those smug boys who’s boss! They think they’re better at everything! — the girl insisted stubbornly.
— Then don’t mess up! Beat them all, especially the boys—show ‘em what you’ve got! I’ll be rooting for you, I promise! — Sophie cheered, secretly relieved she hadn’t yet taken on the chaos of parenthood herself.
— Have a great day! — Anna smiled, tugging her daughter along, eager to get the impromptu outing over with.
— Mom, what does ‘rooting for you’ mean? — came Vicky’s voice from outside.
Finally, Sophie unlocked her apartment and hauled the heavy bags inside.
As she unpacked groceries into the cabinets, upbeat music played from her phone, and she savored a rare few hours of calm. Working at a clothing store on a two-days-on, two-days-off schedule left her with little time for herself lately.
— Oh, finally, a spa night all to myself! — she whispered gleefully, heading to the bathroom for some well-deserved relaxation.
Rubbing scented oils into her skin, Sophie tried to push away the problems piling up lately. A sales target at work she couldn’t meet, constant clashes with her mother, who still thought it was fine to meddle in her life, a nonexistent dating scene, unreachable dreams of travel, and endless credit card debt…
What a fairy tale her life was. What was even good about it?
Then her thoughts drifted back to little Vicky. The girl and her parents had moved in next door three years ago. Before that, the apartment sat empty, so at first, Sophie tried to keep her distance from the noisy newcomers. From day one, they seemed overwhelming, especially with the constant wails of a small child. Anna, Vicky’s mom, was oddly friendly—too much so compared to the usual grim, standoffish neighbors. Sophie, quiet and reserved by nature, avoided parties, crowds, and loud noises, so she had no interest in bonding with them.
But time has a way of softening edges. Before she knew it, Sophie had warmed to the family, and now they felt like a rare spark of joy and positivity in her daily grind. Especially Vicky, a bundle of boundless energy. At first, they’d run into each other at the store, then during walks near the building, and eventually, they started visiting each other’s homes. Vicky’s parents worked late, so Sophie occasionally picked her up from kindergarten or watched her on her days off. She’d never been fond of kids or their noise, but Vicky could charm even the grumpiest adult. She invented games for them to play, though more often, she’d draw or watch cartoons when at Sophie’s place.
— Look, this is what we made at kindergarten today! Out of real dough, can you imagine? I wanted to eat it, but the teacher said it’s not food. I tried it anyway! It was gross, so salty, yuck! — Vicky would share secrets she hid from her mom.
— Of course it’s gross—it’s salt dough! You’re something else! Is your tummy okay? — Sophie would fret.
— Nah, I spit it right into Tommy’s pocket! — the girl giggled, covering her face.
— What’s this? A bear, maybe? — Sophie would squint at the lumpy figure, which could’ve been any animal.
— Are you kidding? It’s an elephant! His trunk broke off, but it still looks right! — Vicky would huff, indignant.
— Oh, yeah, the trunk threw me off. — Sophie would backtrack.
— Next time, I’ll label it for you! I know almost all my letters! — the girl declared.
— Really? Then I’ll write, and you tell me what the letters are. — Sophie suggested.
— Easy!
That’s how they’d pass the time waiting for Vicky’s parents, who often got held up. Sometimes Vicky got so caught up, she didn’t want to leave, though her mom wouldn’t allow sleepovers yet.
— Vicky! Enough whining, let’s go! Dad’s home, he misses you! I haven’t seen you all day either! Give Sophie a break—she’s tired from entertaining you! — Anna would appeal to her conscience, finally coaxing her daughter home.
No two neighbors in the building shared such warmth. At first, Sophie doubted kids could be anything but disruptive, but she soon learned otherwise. She never partied or hosted rowdy gatherings herself, earning Vicky’s parents’ trust.
Their friendship lasted nearly two years. Just when Sophie thought it would always be this way, she noticed odd changes in her neighbors. Vicky, once mischievous and cheerful, grew overly quiet and nervous. Sophie tried probing, hoping to help, but got nowhere.
— Sweetie, what’s going on? Someone at kindergarten picking on you? Those silly boys? — she’d ask.
— No, nothing like that. We’ve actually been getting along lately. — Vicky answered readily.
— Something else then? Your parents? Did they fight, and you think it’s your fault? — Sophie pressed.
— No, no, Sophie, Mom and Dad are fine. They get along great and never argue (well, they think I believe that. But I hear them whispering through the wall sometimes, even though I pretend to be asleep). It’s no big deal! I fight with Mom sometimes too, but we make up fast. I’m sure it’s the same for them.
— Then what’s wrong? Are they planning a little brother or sister, and you don’t want one? — Sophie asked gently, unsure why she cared so much.
Part of her felt like an outsider who shouldn’t pry, but her gut told her something was off, and she needed to understand.
— I wouldn’t have minded before. But Tommy got a baby brother, and he screams so loud! I heard him when his mom brought the stroller to kindergarten. Tommy was excited at first, but now he’s exhausted, and I feel bad for him. So, no brothers for me—they’re yuck! But Mom and I haven’t talked about that. — Vicky spilled easily.
— Then what is it… — Sophie wouldn’t let up.
One day, she cautiously asked Anna about it and was stunned by the harsh rebuke.
— Sophie! How dare you ask me such things? And worse, talking to a child about it! You’re a grown woman—you know this is none of your business! Just because you’re close with my daughter doesn’t give you the right to meddle in our lives! I’m talking to Vicky today—you should stop seeing her. — Anna snapped and stormed off.
Sophie barely had time to respond. What could she say?
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to? I thought I could help, stupid me?”
Utter nonsense.
For days after, they didn’t cross paths. If Vicky tried approaching Sophie, she was yanked back to their apartment, sometimes scolded or banned from going outside altogether.
Then things got stranger. One night, Sophie heard shouting through the wall. She couldn’t tell if it was aimed at Vicky or between the adults, nor could she make out words. Another day, the front door slammed twice, and she saw Vicky’s father storm out of the building. He slammed his car door so hard it seemed the windows would shatter, then sped off, not returning until morning.
Now Sophie wondered if she’d caused the rift. She cursed herself, tempted to apologize but terrified of making things worse.
— Why did I butt in? We got along fine for years, and I had to stick my nose in! Now they’re fighting nonstop. — she muttered, biting her nails.
During another argument, the couple spilled onto the landing, likely to avoid Vicky hearing. Sophie caught snippets.
— How could you? What have you done? We’ll never get rid of them now! What were you thinking? — Anna sobbed.
— I… thought… it wouldn’t… — the man mumbled incoherently.
— We’ll have no life left! Mom told me, ‘Come to me, I’ll hide you from him,’ and why didn’t I listen! — Anna wailed.
Sophie realized she wasn’t the cause. She opened her door to say something, but the couple, hearing her, retreated inside, continuing their row in hushed tones.
Sophie worked grueling shifts for days, worrying constantly about Vicky and her parents. Her instincts screamed they were in deep trouble, but she couldn’t pinpoint what. They’d never seemed so distressed before. On her long-awaited day off, she glimpsed a suspicious man leaving their apartment through the peephole. He looked polished—sleek suit, tie, folder in hand, with a cryptic smile. Vicky’s father, escorting him out, looked utterly defeated, his face ashen. No words were needed to see this guest was unwelcome.
Over the next weeks, strangers visited their apartment almost daily. Some looked respectable, like office workers or sales reps, and their talks, faintly audible through the walls, seemed calm. Others were rougher—leather jackets, scarred faces, bruised knuckles. They spat in the hallway, stubbed cigarettes on the stairs, and glared menacingly, barely speaking like normal people. Sophie couldn’t hear what they wanted, but their tone hinted at serious conflict.
Things worsened weekly, yet only Sophie seemed to notice. Other neighbors either stayed silent, minding their own business, or genuinely saw nothing odd in the visitors. She tried broaching it with Vicky’s father.
— Hello! Lots of guests lately, huh? Celebrating something? Family in town?
— Yeah, yeah, distant relatives from the sticks. Can’t shake ‘em. — He sighed, feigning annoyance. — They keep inviting themselves, and we’ve got no space.
Sophie knew he was lying but played along—what choice did she have? Once, she spotted red stains on the stairs and dared think it was blood. The man flushed, avoided her gaze, and stammered about twisting his ankle or smashing his nose before hurrying off. Later, his wife firmly reminded Sophie to mind her own business.
— Sophie, I thought we understood each other, but here you go again! — she said sternly.
— Yes, I know, but it’s our shared hallway, and we should help each— — Sophie tried.
— We’ll clean it up, don’t worry. Maybe focus less on others’ lives and more on your own? — Anna continued.
— Of course, but I’m worried! For you, for Vicky! We got so close, and now we hardly talk. I’m sure she misses it too. Just know I’m here if you need me—any help at all! — Sophie pleaded, wringing her hands.
— Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind. Goodbye! — Anna’s tone softened slightly.
Sophie thought she might open up, but Anna left the landing.
Months passed, and Sophie noticed the family deteriorating. Vicky’s clothes grew shabbier, she rarely played outside, and dark circles bloomed under her eyes—sleeplessness, exhaustion, or worse. Her parents looked defeated even when not fighting, and her father started drinking. He wasn’t rowdy, but it darkened the mood.
One spring evening, Sophie found Vicky alone on the staircase, curled up on the bottom step, hugging her knees, on the verge of tears.
— Vicky? What are you doing here? Waiting for your parents? — Sophie asked, glancing at the girl’s apartment.
The door was shut, no adult voices audible.
— Just sitting. — Vicky tried to look normal.
— Why? Did they kick you out? — Sophie panicked.
— No, no, nothing like that. Mom and Dad asked me to hide. We play like that sometimes. I was in the next building, but when I came back, they were gone. — Vicky explained.
— How long have you been here alone? On the stairs! Come to my place—I’ll make you tea. — Sophie insisted.
She couldn’t fathom where Vicky’s parents had gone and refused to leave a child alone, despite their tensions.
Vicky agreed eagerly. They went to Sophie’s apartment, brewed tea, and chatted lightly, like old times when Sophie babysat.
But hours passed, the sun set, and no one came for Vicky. Sophie knocked on their door and called Anna’s phone, but it went unanswered. By 11 p.m., her worry was unbearable. She didn’t know where to turn, but Vicky begged her to wait, certain her parents would return soon, like any kid would believe. Eventually, Vicky fell asleep on Sophie’s couch and slept soundly.
No one showed up the next day or the day after. Their phones were off, so Sophie took Vicky to kindergarten herself. Luckily, the staff knew her. Unexpectedly, Vicky moved into Sophie’s place. Sophie cared for her gladly, amazed at how easy and fun it was. Vicky was nearly independent—she could heat her own food, wasn’t afraid to stay home alone. She thrived: her shyness faded, the circles under her eyes vanished, her complexion brightened, and she even gained a little weight, which the kindergarten staff noticed happily. Sophie fibbed that Vicky’s parents were away and had left her as a sitter. Since Vicky seemed unafraid, no one suspected anything.
At times, Sophie feared the parents had abandoned her. Then she realized she didn’t want to let Vicky go—she felt like family. She tried discussing it, urging Vicky to let her contact authorities to find them. They’d never seemed like people who’d ditch their child; something had to be wrong, and it couldn’t be ignored. Vicky insisted no police were needed—she didn’t want a foster home. She feared being taken from Sophie, and she was right. She swore her parents never hurt her, just had problems lately. Vicky defended them fiercely, believing they wouldn’t abandon her without reason. And she was right.
Nearly two months later, Vicky’s parents were found outside town. Miraculously, both were alive when hikers stumbled across them. The father was badly beaten, barely conscious; the mother, delirious, repeated her daughter’s address, begging someone to care for her. They’d been hounded by debt collectors for a year. They’d taken loans, thought they’d paid them off, but owed banks heaps of interest. Collectors threatened violence, even vowed to kidnap and torture Vicky, though it never happened.
That fateful day, they knew the collectors were coming and planned to flee, asking Vicky to hide. They didn’t make it in time, leaving her alone, and were taken away in a tinted car while no one saw. Thankfully, Vicky knew to go to Sophie, who didn’t turn her away. Anna called Sophie from the hospital, voice trembling, asking if she’d seen Vicky. She calmed only when assured her daughter was safe. Words can’t capture the parents’ joy at reuniting with Vicky or their gratitude to Sophie. She brushed it off, wiping tears, thrilled the family was whole. The culprits were caught months later and are now behind bars.
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