I relocated to a tiny town, trying to leave my past behind. The neighbors appeared unduly eager to welcome me. Then I discovered a note: “I know who you are and what you’re running from. Be careful with new friends.” My new life’s barriers felt incredibly flimsy.
A new beginning. An opportunity to leave everything and everyone behind.
Before I could get too deep into my thoughts, there was a knock on the door.
A tall man stood there, carrying two hot cups of coffee and sporting a grin that appeared permanently engraved on his face.
“Welcome to the neighborhood!” he said cheerfully, thrusting one cup toward me.
“I’m Michael. Figured you could use a pick-me-up after all that heavy lifting.”
The warmth of the cup penetrated my palms, but his relentless enthusiasm left me cold.
“This town is special, you know,” he said as if we were longtime acquaintances.
“I guess…” I murmured.
He nodded, but I could see a hint of disappointment in his expression. It took repeated polite declines and a pointed glance at my still-unpacked boxes to persuade him to leave, but he eventually gave in.
Another knock startled me, and the coffee was still untouched on the counter. A small woman with curly hair and a big smile waited outside with a plate of pies.
“Hi, I’m Suzanne!” She said, rushing past me into the kitchen without waiting for an invitation.
“I live just down the street and thought you might like a taste of the best pies in town.”
Suzanne launched into a tornado of town gossip—who was getting divorced, who had just bought a new car, and how Michael always managed to stay in everyone’s good graces.
I nodded along, feeling increasingly uncomfortable. Something about her seems overly eager as if she were fishing for something.
When she eventually departed, I attempted to begin unpacking, but the peace did not last long. Another tap on the door revealed a cheery pair carrying a basket of fresh bread. More neighbors arrived after them, including families with children, each carrying something: cookies, jam, or a potted plant.
By the time the final family waved away, my small kitchen was brimming with gifts, and my brain ached from the forced conversation.
Finally, alone, I leaned against the door and stared at the mess. That’s when I noticed it: a piece of paper slipped into my bag.
“I know who you are and what you’re running from. Be careful with new friends.”
Who could’ve written this? Michael? Suzanne? Someone else entirely?
Suzanne prepared a welcoming party for me the following day. I tried to decline respectfully, but Michael insisted, his pleasant demeanor leaving little space for dispute.
Reluctantly, I agreed. So I walked into Suzanne’s yard. A banner saying “Welcome, Alice!” hung from the porch, and tables were piled high with food and drinks. People I’d never seen before waved and smiled as I walked in.
Just when I was beginning to think I might make it through the evening, my sight was drawn to a man standing at the edge of the crowd. My breath caught. Panic flooded through me as I recognized his face.
My chest clenched as memories flooded back. My legs felt weak, so I retreated under the porch, hoping not to be observed by him.
But Michael found me there at the same time. “You look pale. I’ll walk you home.”
“No,” I responded sharply and almost too loudly.
“Well, suit yourself,” he said, his voice clipped. “Just make sure you’re choosing your friends wisely.”
His words felt like a warning, and my thoughts raced.
Does he know about the note? Could he have written it?
I went to Suzanne, feeling cornered. “Would it be alright if I stayed at your place tonight?”
Suzanne walked me into her kitchen, poured tea into two mismatched mugs, and handed me one before sitting across the table.
“Suzanne, I need to tell you something,” I began.
“At the party tonight… I saw someone. Someone I never expected to see again.” I paused, my throat tightening. “His name is Tim. He was my boyfriend before I moved here.”
“I told him I was pregnant,” I continued… “But instead of being happy, he got angry. He said things, terrible things that made me feel unsafe. I left everything behind to protect myself and my baby.”
Suzanne did not say anything right away. When I looked up, her face was paler.
“I found Tim on social media a while back. I… I invited him to the party.”
I stared at her. “Where is he now?”
“He’s staying in my guest room. Waiting.”
My stomach turned. The air in the kitchen was suffocating. “I need to leave.” Please help me.”
Suzanne and I tiptoed through the living room, the creaky floorboards sounding far too loud in the silence.
Then the doorbell rang. Before one of us could react, the living room lights flicked on.
“Hello, Alice,” a familiar voice said.
“What’s going on in there?” The door sprang open, and Michael charged in, wielding a can of pepper spray like a weapon.
Michael did not lower the spray and remained stuck in place, gazing at Tim.
“I made a mistake. I was scared. Stupid. When you told me about the baby, I didn’t know how to handle it. But I’ve spent months regretting it, Alice. Every day.”
Tim holds his phone. A sequence of photographs appeared on the screen, including a little room decorated in gentle pastel colors, a crib, shelves of well-organized toys, and a rocking chair near the window.
I swallowed hard, my chest squeezing with guilt. “Suzanne, I need to tell you the truth. Tim wasn’t the threat I made him out to be. When I told him about the baby, he was scared, and I was furious. I twisted things because it was easier to be angry than admit I was scared too.”
To my surprise, Tim dropped to one knee. “Alice, will you marry me?”
My eyes filled with tears as I nodded. “Yes.”
We laughed, and the tension faded into quiet ease. Michael’s steadfast kindness matched Suzanne’s apprehensive warmth, and something new began with their shared smiles. That night, we were drinking tea and discussing the small things that make us happy.
