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#Chapter 52 Neighbor
Tanya’s POV
Some part of me is hoping for a different reaction from my past love, maybe some form of acknowledgment that would change everything. But hope is often a feeble thing, that can be harshly shattered by the realities of life. This cruel reality crushes my expectations and longing, as Marco completely blanks me. His glares daggers into my heart as he turns away and moves into the next door house.
Not wanting my daughter to see my misplaced feelings, I take Claire’s hand and head into our home. I prep dinner, and we eat whilst she tells me all about her day. I always love listening to her stories of what she got up to. And despite the lingering desire to speak to the man next door, I remain enthusiastic and present in our conversations.
Later however, as I’m washing the dishes, I hear a loud sound coming from Marco’s house. Recalling Lisa’s request, my eyes widen with realization. With Claire, we rush out the door a
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Tanya’s POVThe midday autumn sun rests high in the sky, soothed by a breeze that remains calm and gentle towards all the outdoor stalls and laid out food for the family day event. It begins with various activities for all the families to participate in. Claire skips along in front of us, and I’m comforted by the high spirits that my daughter finds herself in. And I’m ever grateful to Marco for making that happen.He walks calmly beside me. And whilst I wouldn’t blame him for feeling out of place surrounded by all the parents and children. He blends in perfectly. Conversations with other parents seem like a breeze for him, as he plays the role of a wonderful dad, fully in love with his daughter. I can’t help but admire him quietly whilst he speaks or smiles at my daughter’s playful antics. If only this was real life…Nevertheless, I savor the moment and enjoy the day. We get up to loads of things. First, we sto
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Tanya’s POVI race towards the two, my hands pressing firmly against Raphael’s chest, shoving him away from Mr. Barlow. Of course, my hand meets with the bully’s rippled chest, and I can barely push him. He chuckles at my feeble attempt, only stepping back with a malicious grin.Raphael isn’t as tall as Marco, but he is still a decent height for a male. And he didn’t get classed as a bully for no reason. Although muscular, there is no smooth elegance or refinement to his physic. Raphael is a rough piece of work, as if he has been carved with a blunt knife. Curated with jagged edges, a shaggy unkempt beard and buzz cut. He is like a rusty machete, worn, weathered, and ragged, but still dangerous enough to cut you and give you a nasty infection.“Stop! Stop this nonsense!” I yell, decently fearful, as I feel a close friendship with Mr. Barlow. Even with his annoying old man tendencies. I don’t want to see hi
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