The soft hum of morning stirred gently through the curtains. A golden shaft of light slipped through the narrow opening in the drapes, falling directly across Nandini's face.
Her lashes fluttered open.
Her eyes blinked against the light, and for a moment, she lay still, collecting herself. Then, as if on cue, her gaze flicked to the clock beside the bed.
6:15 AM.
A sigh escaped her lips. The kind of sigh one makes when the mind hasn't entirely left the realm of dreams behind.
She slowly pushed herself upright, brushing a few strands of messy hair from her forehead. Swinging her legs off the bed, she headed straight to the bathroom. The chill of the tiled floor kissed her bare feet. A cold splash of water and a quiet moment behind a closed door gave her a brief retreat from whatever weight her heart still carried.
Fifteen minutes later, refreshed, she stepped out in her cozy tracksuit and tied her hair into a quick ponytail.
As she walked out of her room, the hallway met her with silence—until a sudden, sharp bark sliced through the quiet.
"A bark, a bark..." she whispered to herself.
"Aww, Tommy... My sweet boy, you're awake already!" she said with a smile breaking across her face.
Perched proudly on the couch—on top of a donkey-shaped cushion—was her golden retriever, Tommy, tail wagging in wild delight.
Nandini knelt beside him, rubbing his ears and planting a soft kiss on his forehead. "You missed me already, huh?"
Tommy whimpered happily in response, licking her cheek.
She clipped the leash onto his collar, and instantly, his whole body tensed with excitement.
"Ready to go out?" she chuckled.
With a quick grab of the house keys, she opened the main gate. Tommy darted ahead, nose twitching, eyes scanning everything—the plants, the distant birdsong, the cool morning breeze.
Outside the house, the air still smelled of dew, and the sky had that soft pinkish-orange hue—the kind only early mornings can paint.
The two of them strolled along the road just beyond the garden. Nandini breathed deeply, taking in the scent of earth and flowers, letting it wipe away the last fragments of her nightmare.
For a moment, everything felt peaceful.
Until—
"Hey Nandu!"
The voice was sing-song sweet. Too sweet.
Nandini turned around slowly, even though she already knew who it was.
There she stood.
Isha Tiwari.
Dressed in cheerful yellow with an energetic little boy bouncing beside her, clutching a tiny toy car with wheels that squeaked. The boy was probably three, maybe four.
Isha's face beamed like the morning sun, and she waved with more enthusiasm than necessary.
"Tommy! Look at you, handsome! Want to meet Dunny?" she cooed, bending to ruffle Tommy's fur.
Dunny? Really?
Inwardly, Nandini groaned. She pasted a polite smile on her face, the kind you wear when your mind is yelling, Not now. Not her. Not this early.
"God, she's so... much." Nandini muttered silently.
But Isha, of course, didn't notice the irritation.
She was too busy talking about how Dunny had started learning new words and how her husband, Dr. Arjun Tiwari, a successful dentist, was possibly the best dad in the whole world.
Of course he is , Nandini thought sarcastically. Perfect husband. Perfect kid. Perfect suburban story.
And naturally, Isha always managed to make every conversation revolve around herself.
Still, Nandini nodded politely, stroking Tommy to keep her hands busy.
But what Isha didn't know—what no one really knew—was that Nandini hadn't always lived here.
That her arrival in Dehradun , four years ago, had been anything but ordinary.
---
She had come from Pune , carrying more grief than luggage.
There had been a time when Nandini didn't speak to anyone. For weeks—no, months—she stayed holed up in her rented room, curtains drawn, phone silenced, avoiding daylight like a recluse.
She didn't want to eat, didn't want to answer calls, didn't want to explain why her eyes always looked heavy with unshed tears.
Her landlady, a warm-hearted woman with silver-streaked hair and eyes that noticed too much, grew concerned.
One evening, after knocking gently on her door, she offered a cup of tea and asked nothing. The next day, she returned. Then again. Until, one afternoon, she quietly suggested, "Maybe... you should speak to someone. A therapist. It helps."
Nandini had refused at first.
But eventually, the silent weight of sorrow pushed her to say yes.
She began therapy. Once a week turned into twice a week. Slowly, through tears and reluctant words, the pain began to unravel.
The clinic's receptionist was a chirpy woman with a broad smile. She always greeted her with, "You again? That's good."
One day, after her fourth month into therapy, the receptionist glanced at her and said, "Hey... aren't you from Bal Kishan Society?"
Nandini had blinked, confused.
"Yeah... why?" she said hesitantly.
The girl tapped her name badge. "Isha Tiwari. I live just a few houses down from you!"
Of course she did.
Later that week, Nandini overheard her saying cheerfully to another patient, "We'll keep bumping into each other now!"
And they had.
At first, it was awkward small talk. Then slightly longer conversations at the park. Then surprise visits from Isha with her child, trying to be "friendly."
Eventually, her therapist told her, "You should try and connect. Friendship helps. Isha seems like someone who wants to be kind. Give it a try."
So she had.
But honestly? Isha's over-eager chatter still grated on her nerves. And yet, for some strange reason, she tolerated her.
Maybe because, in Isha's bright, bubbly energy, she found something oddly grounding.
Even if it was irritatingly grounding.
---
Back in the present, Isha was laughing over something her son had done.
"And guess what? He tried to brush our dog's teeth with Arjun's toothbrush!" she laughed.
Nandini smiled faintly. "That's... innovative."
"Oh, and he calls Arjun 'Doctor Baba.' Isn't that adorable?"
"Very," Nandini said flatly.
Tommy nudged her knee with his nose. Nandini bent down, pretending to adjust his leash just to avoid making eye contact.
Suddenly, Isha's voice dropped.
"You know, Nandu... I'm really glad we're neighbors. When I first saw you at the clinic, you looked like someone who didn't believe she belonged anywhere."
Nandini straightened slowly, eyes narrowed. "And now?"
"Now you look like someone who's slowly stitching herself back together."
Nandini didn't say anything. Her fingers clenched Tommy's leash a little tighter.
"I don't mean to interfere," Isha added gently. "I just... I'm glad I got to know you."
There was a pause. A breeze passed between them.
Then Isha, with her usual flair for defusing tension, added playfully, "Even if you sometimes look like you'd rather strangle me with your dog's leash."
Nandini snorted. "You're not wrong."
They both laughed.
Tommy barked once, wagging his tail.
The little boy—Dunny—giggled and ran in circles. The toy car in his hand let out a squeaky beep.
"Come on, we should walk before it gets hot," Isha said, tugging her son gently.
"Yeah... let's go," Nandini nodded, starting to walk beside her.
Inwardly, she thought—
Maybe this strange, bubbly woman wasn't that bad.
Maybe, just maybe, uninvited friendships sometimes find you when you're least prepared for them… and stay long after the pain starts to fade.
And maybe joy, irritation, and healing could all walk together on a morning road—led by a golden retriever chasing butterflies.
By the time Nandini returned home, the clock above the kitchen stove read 7:45 AM.
Tommy padded in beside her, tongue hanging out, tail wagging rhythmically as if dancing to some invisible beat. His morning walk had clearly left him both satisfied and expectant—expectant for breakfast, of course.
With a small smile, Nandini reached for the dog bowl, pouring in his favorite food and adding warm milk just the way he liked it. The aroma was mild but comforting—somehow, this little routine gave her more peace than most conversations ever had.
"There you go, champ," she murmured, stroking his head.
Tommy let out a grateful bark and dug in.
Nandini moved on to her own breakfast: brown bread slathered with butter and mixed fruit jam , paired with a cup of freshly brewed masala tea. She sat at the small kitchen table, sipping slowly, letting the steam waft over her face. Her thoughts were still tangled in fragments of her earlier dream, and the surreal walk with Isha.
After finishing, she tied her hair in a messy bun and got to cleaning. She grabbed the broom and the mop, moving efficiently through the hall and into the bedrooms. Dust swirled in the golden morning light. The rhythmic swish of the mop, the satisfying clack of broom on floor—it felt like a dance she'd done a thousand times.
Once done, she washed her hands and collapsed onto the couch, reaching for the half-read novel on the coffee table.
"Love With a Vampire".
A guilty pleasure—one of those fast-paced paranormal romances with cheesy lines and brooding men who spoke in riddles and looked like sin wrapped in leather jackets.
She smiled wryly. "As if someone like that exists."
But just as she began reading again, a strange noise from outside made her pause.
Voices. A car engine. A loud thud. A metallic creak.
Nandini tried to ignore it. She turned a page.
Then came another sound. A sharper one. Tires screeching slightly on gravel. A door slamming. Male laughter.
Her eyes darted to the gate.
Ignore it, ignore it...she told herself.
But curiosity is a wicked thing.
She set the book down and walked toward the front door. Peering out through the gate, her brows knit together. Parked just a house away from hers—exactly one house away—was a tempo and a silver cab.
Men were unloading boxes, bags, and what looked like a keyboard stand.
Then, the cab door opened.
A tall figure stepped out.
A boy—no, a man—in blue jeans and a crisp white T-shirt, his sleeves rolled up just enough to show lean arms. His dark sunglasses gleamed in the sunlight, reflecting the sky above. His jawline was sharp, his posture confident, and there was a kind of lazy smile playing at the edge of his lips—like he knew the world was watching.
Something about him wasn't just handsome.
He was arresting.
Like a scene straight out of the novel she was reading.
Nandini muttered under her breath, "Vampire..."
Because that's what he looked like—straight out of fiction.
The sunlight fell on him, making his skin glow faintly. The contrast of his dark hair, white shirt, and that smirk—yes, that smirk—was almost too much. She felt the breath hitch in her throat for a moment.
A whisper of déjà vu struck her. Like she'd seen him somewhere, not in real life but in pages and daydreams.
Just as she was about to turn back inside, a voice startled her.
"He's your new neighbor."
Nandini turned to find Mrs. Meera Sharma, the landlady of the house next door, standing with a knowing smile on her face.
A woman in her late 50s, with perfectly combed salt-and-pepper hair, and the ability to read people like open books.
"Wait, wasn't that house rented by the Runthla family?" Nandini asked, confused.
"You remember correctly," Meera nodded.
"But their son and daughter-in-law moved to Delhi last month. They left the second floor vacant . I thought—why waste the space? So I found a tenant."
She gave Nandini a look—a deliberate one.
"Like I did four years ago... when you came here," she added with a light nudge of nostalgia.
Nandini blinked. "Ah... right."
Back then, she had arrived broken, silent, barely speaking to anyone. And it was this same woman who had taken her under her wing—not out of charity, but out of quiet empathy. The same woman who had taken her to her first therapy session. Who hadn't forced her to talk, but made sure she wasn't alone.
Nandini turned her attention back to the boy—man—who was now directing the movers. His voice carried faintly through the air—deep, clear, laced with amusement as he teased one of the workers.
Mrs. Meera followed her gaze, her eyes twinkling.
"He's polite. Educated. Moved from Mumbai, I believe," she said casually.
"Oh?" Nandini asked, trying not to sound too interested.
"His name is Ruhan, if I remember correctly. And he's doing some sort of remote creative work... music, I think? Might even be composing."
Nandini felt her heartbeat stutter slightly.
Creative.
Musician.
Charming smile.
Mystery air.
Of course, he's everything that makes a woman lose her common sense.
She cleared her throat, trying to reset her expression into something neutral.
"Well... welcome to the neighborhood," she muttered under her breath.
---
The rest of the day passed in a blur of domestic routine—laundry, cleaning the bookshelf, a phone call with her cousin—but her mind kept drifting back to the new arrival.
To that one smile.
To the strange chill that had run down her spine when she saw him step into sunlight.
Back on the couch that evening, her fingers itched to pick up the novel again—but this time when she read the words:
"He walked out of the shadows like he owned them, the sun bending to him instead of burning him..."
—her breath caught.
She shut the book with a snap.
"This is ridiculous," she whispered, shaking her head.
But her traitorous mind had already given him a name.
The Vampire Next Door.