The Unexpected Tenant
It was a cold day, and I found myself unemployed. After years of hard work, I decided to give myself a break, taking a few months off to rest. As I approached my thirties, I started to reflect on my life. After drifting from place to place for so long, I wondered if it was time to return to my roots and develop my future back home.
Before housing prices skyrocketed, I had bought a house in the capital city of my hometown. Now, I was returning to this unfamiliar place, a city that should have felt like home but didn’t. The house was large, quiet, and deserted. With no colleagues or friends to turn to, I spent my days alone in that empty space.
As my savings dwindled, I began to think about how to increase my income. Eventually, I decided to rent out part of the house. Given that I was relatively financially comfortable before losing my job, I approached renting with a mindset of finding both income and companionship, so I set the rent low.
Instead of going through an agent, I posted an ad on a second-hand platform, and soon enough, someone inquired about the place. A young woman preparing for the postgraduate entrance exams reached out, and we scheduled a time for her to see the house the next day.
She arrived mid-morning, just as I was getting up. My newfound freedom had made my daily schedule rather chaotic, so I greeted her in a disheveled state, unshaven and looking a bit rough around the edges.
When I opened the door, our eyes met, and we both froze. I was taken aback by her presence—she had an air of vitality and elegance. She was dressed in a woolen overcoat, looking neat and composed. Under her sweater, I could see her thin, straight legs wrapped in skinny jeans, with light-colored sneakers that added a hint of energy to her appearance. She looked like a dancer, graceful and poised.
It was cold outside, and the chill had seeped into the house. She wore a hat and scarf, leaving only her large, dark eyes visible as they gazed at me. Suddenly, I felt a pang of self-consciousness, embarrassed by my shabby appearance. I quickly averted my eyes.
She seemed a bit lost, perhaps caught off guard by the situation, and followed me inside the house. The atmosphere was awkward as I stumbled through the house tour, pointing out the kitchen, living room, and bedroom. She responded with a quick "yes" to everything I said, but she stayed less than a minute before leaving abruptly.
It felt like a mysterious cat had wandered onto my balcony, only to disappear before I could fully appreciate its presence. I felt a bit lost, convinced she wouldn’t be coming back.
Later, my phone buzzed with a message from her on the second-hand platform. She admitted she hadn’t expected me to be a man, which had thrown her off. However, she was satisfied with the house but was hesitant about living with a man, so she needed time to think it over.
As much as I wanted her to move in, I didn’t want to push her or seem inappropriate. So, I simply responded that I understood if she chose not to move in, but that she would be more than welcome if she did. After all, I assured her, I was a kind person—a somewhat forced statement given the circumstances.
She replied with a smile emoji, and that was the end of our conversation for the night.
The next morning, at about the same time, she sent another message: "I thought about it and decided to move in. You said you were a kind person, and I believe you."
My heart felt like it was blooming with joy, but I kept my emotions in check. I replied calmly, "Great, let me know if you need help with anything." She declined my offer, saying she had already called a rickshaw driver to help her move.
Not long after, she knocked on the door again.
Opening it, I was greeted by the sight of my new tenant surrounded by at least four or five large cartons. "Girl things," I thought with a smile, as I helped her carry everything inside. I left her to settle in, inwardly sighing at the missed opportunity to show some gallantry.
