The neighborhood is big, so getting new neighbors is somewhat commonplace.
However, what is less common is having neighbors move in directly next door. Bless the Smith's hearts, but they unfortunately had to be transferred to a home. They were a sweet couple, having shared fifty years and never letting that joy die. Chris found hope in the light of their shared life. A love that was kindled steadily like a bonfire over the years. Something that didn't need to be fought for, but was instead tended to and nourished. Chris always thought that's what marriage should look like, that's what he assumed was in store for him and Hazel.
That narrative shattered when he found out his wife was cheating on him, with multiple men, no less, and the Smiths were moving across state lines to die in peace in some random nursing home, never to be seen again.
He mourned both losses at the same time, the loss of his dear neighbors, his wife, and the inevitable changes that would soon be thrust upon him. Hazel doesn't know that he's aware, and he hasn't decided what he wants to do with the information yet, so it's just as well in his mind.
Of course, when it rains, it pours. When he first met the new neighbors, he wasn't sure why, but he felt his stomach twist, sensing trouble where he would typically be none the wiser. Perhaps it's age, making him more weary, or maybe the trauma of broken vows is keeping him alert, but a new couple replacing the old would usually be mundane; people move out, and new people move in - it's normal. But when Hazel and he marched up to the front door a few days after they had initially spotted the moving trucks, hand in hand like a normal couple, Chris sensed issues right away as soon as the door swung open. And the pit in his stomach hasn't gone away since.
It's Friday evening now, and they're preparing to go to a housewarming party at said neighbor's house. Chris doesn't want to go; he senses danger on the horizon, though he isn't exactly sure why. He's never had to rely on his instincts to guide him through social situations; his wife has always been the more personable between them, and now he feels like she's at arm's length. She isn't, of course. Nothing has changed in their relationship on the surface; they still joke around, go on dates, and have a normal amount of sex. But Chris has changed, fundamentally. Something broke in him the day he found out, and he's now just sitting in the eye of the storm, waiting for something to occur. He doesn't dare to confront his wife, nor is he sure that's even what he wants.
What does he want?
He ponders this question as the sun begins to set, the soft orange glow of dusk dusts his wife's cheeks, making her appear as if she were blushing. She's as beautiful as the day they were wed, but she's no longer his. He swallows thickly as he averts his eyes, feeling like the guilty party despite having done nothing wrong.
He's been wronged by her, so why does he feel like a criminal hiding something from his wife?
"Are you ready?" She grins up at him and looks radiant. She does a quick twirl, dress fanning out around her and then settling back onto her minute curves. She's always been a petite woman, short, even by her gender's standards. She exudes an air of innocence, and people naturally trust her due to her kind smile and doe-like eyes. He did, at one point.
He gives her a thumbs up, and Hazel rolls her eyes, unimpressed by his cheesiness.
"A yes, would have sufficed."
"A yes would take too much time, we're running late as is." He glances at his watch, not to check the time but rather to give his wife a pointed reminder. She is habitually late to everything, never able to get going unless given multiple reminders. They have little excuse considering that the party is right next door, but left to her own devices, he's sure that she would find a way to be late.
She pokes him in the chest, playful as ever. "Don't be like that, I'm sure they won't mind."
Chris still thinks it would be astonishingly bad manners to be late to the neighbor's party for virtually any reason. Still, he also recognizes that arguing with Hazel would not only be a waste of time, but would additionally waste time in the literal sense. He ushers her out the door before she can find a reason to stay.
He keeps a hand on the small of her back as they walk over, propelling her forward and guiding her to the steps. Occasionally, his hand hovers, drifting from her back so he's not touching it any longer. He finds himself torn; he doesn't want to touch her, feels almost dirty doing so, but can't let her become suspicious.
They ring the doorbell and are greeted by an already tipsy Avery. Chris's eyes go wide as he glances between their new neighbor and Hazel, but Hazel simply shrugs her shoulders.
When in Rome, he supposes.
"Welcome!" Avery hollers, forcing Chris to wince in response. "Come on in, make yourselves at home!"
They do just that, taking trepid steps into the house they'd seen a hundred times before when the Smiths lived in it.
Avery and her Husband, Sam, had some remodeling done, but only on the parts that mattered most. The kitchen had been updated with new appliances, and the home got a fresh coat of paint, but other than that, virtually nothing changed. Chris hadn't realized he had been holding his breath until making this discovery. He's not sure why he feels relieved that the house is the same, but he's still grateful for it nonetheless. Perhaps it was the historic nature of the property, an old school charm that's so difficult to find these days.
"I like what you've done with the place." Hazel beams at Avery, not missing a beat as they all make their way into the living room. A game of some kind is on, which appears to be the center of attention. Chris can't tell if it's live or a replay of some sort, but that wouldn't make a difference to him; he's never particularly been into sports.
"You're too kind! We fell in love with it immediately, so it's nice that we didn't have to make many changes. Just widen one of the bedrooms."
"Ah, do you have children?"
"No, Sam just needs his office space."
They continue to prattle on, and Chris almost feels a little impressed by the way Hazel can ingratiate herself into new situations so easily. It's only been a few minutes, and the two of them are getting along like lifelong best friends. It's a quality he's always admired in her: her extroversion.
They excuse themselves as they go hunting for drinks, and Chris's stomach rumbles at an embarrassing volume. Luckily, the other housewarming guests don't seem to notice or mind, all engrossed in their conversations or the TV screen.
The night continues without issue. Luckily, they weren't the last ones to arrive, and the house steadily fills up with an assortment of people. Some of the people he recognizes are from just down the street, while others he doesn't. He supposes they invited a lot of friends or work colleagues.
