Can you believe my neighbor didn’t let anyone see her newborn son for three whole years?
Seriously, she kept him hidden and wouldn’t let anyone inside her house! I always thought it was a bit weird.
But then, the other day, I got a letter in my mailbox that was actually meant for her.
So, I went over to her house to drop it off, and through the window I saw her son staring back at me.
The second I saw him. I passed out. That kid was pale. Not in a spooky way—just sickly, like he hadn’t seen the sun in months. His eyes were wide, curious but guarded, like he wasn’t used to people. And his little hand was pressed flat against the glass, trembling slightly.
When I came to, I was lying on her living room couch. My neighbor—her name’s Elise—was sitting next to me, clearly worried. She kept apologizing, handing me a glass of water, her hands shaking worse than mine.
“I didn’t mean for you to see him like that,” she said softly.
I sat up slowly, still a little dazed. “Why… why have you been hiding him?”
She hesitated, her eyes welling up. “Nathan’s been sick since the day he was born. His immune system is basically nonexistent. The doctors said even a common cold could put him in the hospital.” She looked away, her voice cracking. “I wasn’t trying to be mysterious. I was trying to keep him alive.”
I felt a lump rise in my throat. All those times we whispered about how strange she was… how cold she seemed. We were so wrong.
“He saw you through the window,” she added. “You were the first stranger he’s ever seen.”
Suddenly, everything made sense—the drawn curtains, the quiet house, the missed holidays. She wasn’t isolating herself to be rude. She was fighting for her son’s life in silence.
And now, I wish I had knocked sooner.