ALEC & SUSAN

A life in Transition

SUSUAN

Six months had passed, and somehow, despite the chaos life usually threw my way, I had finally found a rhythm. My days were split between two jobs, long hours bleeding into late nights until exhaustion became as familiar as my own reflection.

Still, there was comfort in the routine. It kept my mind occupied, my hands busy, my worries tucked away where they couldn’t swallow me whole. Home had become just a place to shower, sleep, and prepare myself to do it all over again the next day.

One night, after saying goodbye to Jacob outside the corner store, I made the short walk back to my apartment building. The city hummed around me in its usual way—distant sirens, muffled laughter drifting from passing strangers, the occasional car splashing through rainwater left along the curb. The cool night air kissed my skin as I shoved my hands deeper into my jacket pockets, already thinking about the hot shower waiting for me upstairs.

I made it home and immediately grabbed my things from my room before heading straight to the bathroom. Fortunately, I didn’t have to wait this time. On some days, I would spend up to 30 minutes waiting for my turn to use the shower or restroom.

By the time I stepped out of the bathroom, steam still curling behind me, I felt half alive again. My damp hair clung to my shoulders as I rubbed the towel absently over my skin, completely unprepared for the solid figure standing in front of me.

I jumped in surprise.

My breath caught so sharply it hurt.

Wait, what are you doing here?” I stammered, clutching the towel tighter against myself.

The stranger didn’t answer. Instead, his dark eyes dragged slowly over me, deliberate and unhurried, while a wicked smile curved across his mouth.

Heat rushed to my face.

My pulse thundered violently in my chest as he brushed past me without a word, his shoulder barely grazing mine before he disappeared into the bathroom like he belonged there.

I stood rooted to the floor long after the door clicked shut behind him.

I rushed to my room slammed the door behind me and stood against the door wondering who that guy was and what was he doing here?

After getting ready for bed, I fell asleep with one question still haunting my thoughts: who was that unsettling man?

The next morning, being the weekend, I allowed myself the luxury of sleeping in. I did not have to be at work until three, but even the extra rest could not chase away the memory of him.

The strange man from the night before stayed in the back of my mind, his presence leaving behind more questions than answers. Eventually, I made my way to the kitchen, still groggy and barefoot, as weak sunlight filtered through the curtains.

And there he was again.

The stranger leaned casually against the counter like he had lived there forever.

Our eyes locked.

For one unbearable second, neither of us moved.

I cleared my throat awkwardly, forcing my face into what I hoped looked like calm indifference before grabbing my mug of tea and turning around so quickly that I nearly tripped over my own feet as I hurried back toward my room.

What is a guy doing in an all-girls building?

The question chased me the entire morning.

When a knock came at my door, it startled me so badly I nearly dropped my mug. My stomach tightened instantly. I didn’t know any of the neighbors, and deep down, I already suspected who might be standing outside.

Keeping the security chain firmly latched, I cracked the door open carefully.

Instead of the stranger, a young woman stood there wringing her hands nervously.

“Can we talk?” she asked, panic flashing across her face.

Something in her expression softened my hesitation.

I closed the door, unhooked the chain, and let her inside.

“Nice place,” she murmured, glancing around the tiny room.

“Thanks,” I replied cautiously, waiting.

She inhaled deeply before blurting, “That guy you saw? He’s my boyfriend. She lowered her voice. Please don’t tell Mrs. Johnson, she pleaded. If she finds out he was here, she’ll kick me out. I can’t lose this place.”

The fear in her voice was raw enough to twist something inside me.

She caught me off guard, but I promised her that I wouldn’t say a word.

Relief flooded her face immediately. Thank you she stated.

As she turned to leave, she said "by the way I’m Angela, but everyone calls me Angie,” extending her hand.

“Susan.”

Her grip was warm but shaky. Moments later, she was gone, leaving behind only the faint scent of perfume and lingering tension in the room.

I crept back toward the kitchen afterward, half expecting him to still be there. When I found it empty, I released a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. The silence felt safer somehow.

Still uneasy, I made myself bacon and eggs along with tea before retreating to my room again. After breakfast, I watched a movie and attempted to get some sleep before heading into my 3:00 p.m. shift at the corner store. Even after setting my alarm for work, sleep refused to come easily. Something about that man unsettled me in a way I couldn’t explain.

Work itself was uneventful, but my conversations with Jacob were always effortless, and over time he came to feel like a father figure in my life.

By evening, that unease had grown teeth.

The streets were darker than usual when I turned the corner toward my apartment building after work. A cold wind swept between the buildings, carrying the sound of footsteps behind me.

At first, I told myself not to panic.

Then the footsteps quickened.

So did mine.

My heart slammed violently against my ribs as dread crawled up my spine. The closer I got to the gate to the house, the faster I moved until I finally broke into a run.

Before I could even process what was happening, I collided with a hard chest. Looking up, my chest tightened when I realized who it was. It was him—Angie’s boyfriend. His hand instinctively rested on my upper arm.

His expression was unreadable beneath the dim streetlight, but there was something unexpectedly gentle in his eyes.

“What’s the hurry?” He said.

“I thought I heard footsteps behind me.”

He looked past me, then shook his head. “There’s no one there. It was just your imagination.”

I looked behind me and he was right, there no one there.

I quickly pulled away, saying thank you as I slipped through the gate, and ran into the house.

I bolted upstairs afterward, shoving my door shut hard enough for the walls to rattle. The lock clicked loudly into place as I slid to the floor, my entire body shaking uncontrollably.

Sweat dampened my skin despite the cold.

My heartbeat was so loud it felt deafening.

After settling in, I took a hot shower before going to bed.

The next day at work, I told Jacob what happened last night.

“No more walking home alone,” he said immediately, his voice sharp with concern. “I’m driving you from now on.”

I didn’t argue.

Three weeks later, it was the weekend again, fate intervened and brought our paths together once more. He was there-Angie's boyfriend-standing right infront of me, and everthing shifted again.

Being fresh from the shower and still damp, I stepped into the hallway only to nearly collide with him again.

Of course.

My pulse instantly stumbled.

I flashed him a nervous smile before darting back into my room to get dressed. By the time I made my way to the kitchen, he was no where to be seen.

The man appeared and disappeared like smoke.

Then on Sunday night, as I climbed out of Jacob’s car, I spotted him again entering the house.

I quickly stepped out of the car and headed toward the house to catch up with him.

“It’s you,” I called softly.

He stopped.

“Hey, I just wanted to quickly apologize for bumping into you a few weeks ago-it was totally unintentional. I really thought someone was following me.

For a moment, he simply stared at me.

Then he gave a short nod before disappearing down the hallway without another word.

A man of very few words.

But somehow, that only made him more intriguing.

As the holidays approached, life continued moving forward. My mom and siblings were doing alot better this holiday season. Finally able to celebrate like a normal family again, and knowing that, eased something heavy inside me.

I was worn down from the endless routine, working seven days a week with barely a moment to myself.

I was drained, caught in a relentless cycle of days that blurred together, until January arrived, bearing a sudden, unexpected shift in my life.

My employer told me they were moving to another state because of her husband’s promotion, heartbreak flashed across her face.

I smiled politely while disappointment settled heavily in my chest.

The corner store alone would only be enough to pay for rent and nothing else.

So every weekend, I searched newspapers desperately, circling ads and making calls that led nowhere.

Until one evening, the phone rang.

“My name is Amanda Goldberg. I got your number from your former employer, Monique…”

Hope sparked instantly inside me.

By the end of the call, my heart was racing so hard I could barely breathe.

I got an interview.

A real opportunity to continue helping my family.

Right there in the middle of the store, I nearly exploded with excitement. I practically ran toward Jacob afterward, words tumbling from my mouth so quickly I could hardly get them out.

That night, sleep became impossible.

I memorized the directions repeatedly, scribbling notes and double-checking train routes, like my future depended on it—because honestly, it did.

The next morning, Manhattan felt enormous and intimidating and beautiful all at once.

By 9:15, I was already waiting nervously in the lobby, smoothing invisible wrinkles from my jeans while trying not to panic.

When the elevator doors finally opened onto the third floor, my stomach twisted itself into knots.

Getting out of the elevator looking left and right trying to find the number to her apartment. I turned to the left and three doors down I found it. I knocked softly.

Mrs. Goldberg greeted me warmly, her blonde hair twisted into a messy bun, her voice softened into a whisper.

“Thank you for not ringing the doorbell,” she said quietly. “Jessica is still asleep.”

I smiled immediately.

“I figured she might be due to the time.”

The apartment smelled faintly of baby powder and coffee, warm and lived in.

As the conversation went on, I found myself relaxing, my nerves slowly disappering. Then I heard the words that made my heart skip a beat.

“This is a live-out position.”

Meaning I could still come home every night.

And when she mentioned the salary, I nearly forgot how to breathe altogether.

Then shorly after, Jessica woke up.

The tiny sound of her crying drifted through the apartment, soft and sleepy, and moments later Mrs. Goldberg carried her out.

Jessica blinked at me with huge curious eyes while rubbing her face sleepily.

The second she looked at me, something inside me melted.

I sat beside her quietly, letting her get comfortable at her own pace until eventually tiny fingers reached toward my hand.

And just like that, I adored her.

By the time Mrs. Goldberg asked, “Can you start Monday?” my chest felt ready to burst with relief and gratitude.

“I sure can.”

When I finally left the apartment building afterward, happiness bubbled through me so intensely it was almost impossible to contain. My smile refused to disappear no matter how hard I tried to act normal.

I probably looked ridiculous standing there grinning to myself in the middle of Manhattan.

But for the first time in months, hope felt bigger than fear.

And that feeling was everything.