Sometimes a fresh start comes with… unexpected perks.
I’m freshly divorced at forty and finally determined to live for myself—even if my chest is a little too full of milky goodness these days.
My new luxury apartment feels like freedom, until I discover one tiny flaw. The walls aren’t just thin, they’re whisper-thin, and my grumpy but ridiculously handsome neighbor’s late-night activities quickly become part of my bedtime routine.
What starts as overheard sounds of ecstasy and restless nights escalates after a little “maintenance mishap” leaves more than sound slipping through the wall. Curiosity turns into temptation, temptation turns into late-night encounters, and before I know it, I’m exploring sides of myself I never dared to admit out loud.
My neighbor? He’s more than happy to encourage every shameless discovery.
