Reborn: I Ignore My Vicious Neighbour in My Underground Bunker

The morning sunlight filtered through the lace curtains, dancing softly on the wooden floor. Maya stood in the kitchen, humming to herself as she flipped pancakes. The sizzle of butter, the sweet scent of maple syrup, and the distant thump of tiny feet running down the hallway made her smile. “Mommy!” her daughter Lily called out, her dark curls bouncing as she entered the kitchen. “I smelled pancakes!” Behind her came her younger brother, Caleb, still rubbing sleep from his eyes and clutching his favorite stuffed bear by one ear. “Well, good morning, my loves,” Maya said, leaning down to kiss each of them on the forehead. “You’re just in time.” She placed two steaming plates on the table, then turned back to the stove. Outside, birds chirped merrily. It was early autumn, the air crisp but not cold, and golden leaves drifted lazily from the trees. Life was, for once, peaceful. Ethan strolled in moments later, freshly shaved and still drying his hands. His warm brown eyes found hers immediately. “Smells amazing in here.” “That’s because I’m amazing,” Maya teased, setting the last plate down. “Come on, eat before it gets cold.” They sat together at the small round table in the kitchen, the one Maya’s parents had gifted them when they bought the house six years ago. It was scratched and worn in some places, but it was theirs—and it had survived every spilled juice box and food fight the kids had thrown at it. As they ate, laughter filled the room. Caleb tried to sneak extra syrup when he thought no one was looking. Lily recited a poem she’d written at school. Ethan chimed in with his dry humor, making Maya laugh so hard she almost choked on her orange juice. Maya looked at them—really looked at them—and felt the soft ache of contentment bloom in her chest. This was her family. Her everything. After breakfast, Maya began tidying up while Ethan got the kids dressed. Saturdays were always their day: errands in the morning, a visit to Maya’s parents in the afternoon, and dinner with Ethan’s folks in the evening. Their parents lived just across town, still active and independent but happy to be included in every part of their grandchildren’s lives. By ten o’clock, they were out the door. Maya’s neighborhood was quiet, a small suburban street lined with houses that all looked vaguely the same. The only disruption came from the house next door—Helen’s house. Helen was the type of woman who always knew too much. She had a way of inserting herself into conversations uninvited, always asking too many questions, always watching. Her husband, Greg, was the quieter one, usually holed up in the garage tinkering with tools. Their children, Michael and Sarah, were around the same age as Maya’s, but the friendship between the families had never blossomed. Not for lack of trying—Helen was persistent. But something about her made Maya’s skin itch. As they buckled the kids into the car, Helen appeared on her porch, holding a steaming mug. “Maya! Ethan! Heading out?” Maya forced a polite smile. “Yep. Just visiting the parents.” Helen’s eyes flicked to the kids. “Lily and Caleb are getting so big. You know, we should plan a playdate soon. The kids have been asking.” “Maybe sometime next week,” Maya said quickly, opening the car door and sliding inside before the conversation could stretch further. Ethan gave Helen a quick nod and climbed in after her. “She's persistent,” Ethan murmured as they backed out of the driveway. Maya snorted. “That's one word for it.” They spent the morning at the farmer’s market, picking up fresh produce and homemade jams. The kids ran between the stalls, laughing and pointing out the biggest pumpkins they could find. Afterward, they headed to Maya’s parents' home. Her mother, Grace, met them at the door with a plate of cookies, while her father, Harold, gave Ethan a firm handshake and a bear hug. The afternoon passed in a blur of stories, games, and laughter. At one point, Maya slipped into the kitchen with her mother to help with the dishes. “You look happy,” Grace said, eyeing her daughter warmly. “I am,” Maya said. “Things just feel…right, lately.” “I’m glad. That house has been good to you.” “It really has,” Maya agreed. “Sometimes I forget we almost didn’t buy it. That previous owner was so secretive.” Grace chuckled. “Old Mr. Martin? He was a strange one. Said the house had ‘hidden depths.’” Maya smiled. “Well, it definitely has character.” They left around four and headed straight to Ethan’s parents. James and Diana were waiting on the porch, waving enthusiastically. James immediately scooped Caleb into his arms, tossing him in the air, while Diana smothered Lily with kisses. Dinner was warm and noisy—homemade lasagna, garlic bread, and wine for the adults. Diana made Ethan retell the story of how he once proposed to Maya during a fire drill at college. The kids listened, wide-eyed, as if it were a fairy tale. On the drive home, the kids fell asleep in the backseat, their heads tilted together. Maya leaned her head against Ethan’s shoulder. “I don’t think days get better than this,” she whispered. He kissed the top of her head. “Then let’s make sure we have more just like it.” They pulled into the driveway as the moon rose behind a thin veil of clouds. Maya carried Caleb while Ethan lifted Lily. Inside, the house was warm and quiet. As Ethan tucked the kids into bed, Maya went back downstairs to lock the doors. She paused in the kitchen, staring at the rug in the center of the floor. She didn’t know why, but something about it suddenly seemed…off. She walked over and nudged the corner with her toe. It didn’t move. Strange. Shrugging it off, she flipped off the light and went upstairs. Ethan was already in bed, reading. She crawled in beside him, burying herself under the blankets. He glanced at her. “Everything okay?” Maya nodded. “Yeah. Just a perfect day.” She didn't know it yet, but that day would be the last peaceful one for a long time. The world would soon change. And that rug—so ordinary, so easily overlooked—would become the key to everything.