He lives one floor above
«Ellie, I expect you and Alex at my anniversary dinner this Saturday at the restaurant near the theatre—you know the one,» announced Marina, their neighbor, importantly over the phone while Eloise was at work.
«Thank you, Marina, we’ll be there,» Eloise replied cheerfully before hanging up.
With three days until Saturday, she needed to visit the shopping centre to buy something new for the occasion—her wardrobe was long overdue for an update. She’d recently spotted a lovely suit, perfect for the event. Too formal for work, but just right for a celebration.
She decided to go tomorrow after work. Tonight, she’d cook dinner, but first, a trip to the supermarket for groceries.
«Alex is never home early—always working late. I’ll have to carry the bags myself again,» she thought, planning her evening.
Approaching their house, she spotted his car.
«Strange, he’s home already. He’s usually never back before eight…»
Taking the lift to their floor, she unlocked the door and immediately noticed his shoes scattered in the hallway—uncharacteristic for him, as he was always meticulous about putting things away.
She set the groceries on the kitchen counter and stepped into the living room. Alex lay on the sofa, turned away, fast asleep.
«Odd, this isn’t like him,» she mused, deciding not to wake him. She changed clothes and started cooking. When dinner was ready, she gently nudged his shoulder.
«Hey, sleepyhead, wake up. You’ll be up all night otherwise. Dinner’s ready… Alex, stop joking around.» She touched his shoulder again, but he didn’t stir.
Turning him onto his back, she gasped—his arm was cold, dangling limply off the sofa.
She froze, then bolted from the flat and frantically knocked on Marina’s door. The neighbor opened it with a smile.
«Hello, Ellie—» Marina’s smile vanished at the sight of Eloise’s stricken face.
«What’s wrong? You look awful!»
«It’s Alex, he’s—» Eloise gestured weakly before sliding down the wall, collapsing. Marina rushed to help.
An ambulance arrived, but it was too late. The doctor confirmed Alex had died suddenly—likely a heart attack.
«How? He never complained about his heart. Only forty. He didn’t drink or smoke, he exercised—how could this happen?» She stared blankly, but the doctor could only shrug.
«These things happen…»
At the funeral, Eloise stood like stone, dry-eyed. Her older brother held one arm, her daughter Claire the other, tears streaming down her face. The wake and following days passed in a blur.
The loneliness was crushing. She dreaded being home alone, counting the minutes until Claire returned from her study sessions or evenings out with her boyfriend. She couldn’t bear sitting on the sofa where Alex had died.
«Ellie, let’s take your sofa to our cottage. You can have ours—it’s practically new,» Marina offered, trying to distract her.
«Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you,» Eloise agreed gratefully.
Nights were the hardest. Claire’s future weighed on her—university fees, life without Alex. She vowed to work tirelessly to ensure her daughter never struggled.
«For Claire, I’ll work every day. What are holidays without my husband?»
Grief didn’t fade. If anything, the loneliness grew. Sometimes, Alex visited her dreams, and she’d go to his grave, talking to him until she felt lighter.
Six months passed. Claire started university. One day, Eloise caught her reflection in the mirror and gasped.
«Good lord, it’s time to rejoin the living.» The black mourning suit had to go. She booked a hairdresser’s appointment.
When she returned, Claire gasped.
«Mum, you look ten years younger! I’m so happy for you.»
At work, colleagues murmured approvingly.
«You look wonderful. We knew you’d pull through.»
A year later, spring arrived. Returning from work one evening, Eloise stopped at the supermarket. Struggling with bags, she fumbled for the lift button when a man pressed it for her.
«Good evening. Ninth floor for me. And you?» He smiled.
«Eighth,» she replied. He pressed the button, and the lift ascended.
«Neighbours, then. I just moved in. Max, by the way. And you?»
«Eloise,» she said curtly. The lift stopped, and she stepped out. He followed.
«Let me hold your bags while you find your keys.» His smile was warm. «Don’t worry, I really do live here.»
«Thank you,» she muttered, unlocking her door. «Goodbye.» She shut it firmly.
Their next encounter was on a bus. Max nodded hello just as the bus lurched, sending Eloise stumbling into his chest. She gasped—her lipstick had smudged his shirt.
«I’m so sorry!»
He laughed. «No harm done. Now I’ll get more attention from women. Haven’t taken the bus in ages—car’s in the shop. Maybe it’s for the best.»
He exited two stops early, waving with a grin.
Claire came home late that night, cheerful but unresponsive to calls.
«Sorry, my phone died!» she said, pulling it from her bag. «Mark walked me home, so don’t worry. Mum, why not get a dog? You’d have company.»
«No, dogs wake you too early.»
Days later, walking through the park, Eloise nearly collided with Max.
«Fancy seeing you here,» he teased.
«I’m just heading home,» she said stiffly.
«Then let’s walk together.»
She stopped, glaring. «Listen, if you’re flirting with me, stop. I’m a widow. My daughter’s grown—»
«And that means you should live like a nun?» He shook his head. «I’m not some playboy.»
Her phone rang. Fumbling, she dropped it, but Max caught it—Claire was calling. As they both bent to pick it up, their heads bumped.
They burst out laughing.
«Ow,» Max rubbed his forehead, grinning.
«Not really.»
He took her hand, kissing it lightly. Her head spun.
«I can’t do this,» she whispered, realizing she’d slipped into informal speech.
«I understand. I’ll wait until you’re ready.»
For days, Eloise couldn’t stop thinking about him, torn between guilt and longing.
«Alex is gone… why do I feel this way?»
But when Max met her after work with roses, inviting her to a café, she couldn’t refuse. They began seeing each other.
«I never thought I’d fall in love again,» she marvelled. «He makes me feel cherished.»
Still, facing Claire was hard.
«Mum, what’s going on? Are you in love?»
Eloise hesitated. «Claire, you might hate me for this. I’ve betrayed your father—»
Claire beamed. «Mum, that’s wonderful! Dad wouldn’t want you to be alone. I’m happy for you!»
«You think?»
«I know it. So, when do I meet him?»
«In about five minutes.»
«He’s at the door?»
«No. Max lives one floor above.»
Claire laughed. «You two! How did I miss this?»
Life had taught Eloise that love, like spring, returns when least expected—and that happiness is never a betrayal, but a gift to be cherished.