Chapter 1: The Hole in the Wall

The first thing I noticed in my new apartment wasn’t the peeling paint or the ancient fridge—it was a hole, thumb-sized, punched right through the faded wallpaper. Dust ringed the edges, as if it had been there for years, forgotten by everyone but the wall itself. The sunlight slipped through, drawing a tiny spotlight on my hardwood floor. I hovered, torn between plugging it with a sock and pressing my eye to the secret it promised. My heart thumped, equal parts guilt and curiosity.

Through that hole, I got my first glimpse of the couple next door. They looked affectionate, but something about their body language screamed distance—a choreography of people who’d learned each other’s habits, not hearts.

From that moment, I was hooked. I watched their lives unfold like my own private reality show—raw, unscripted, and way too close for comfort. The hum of the city faded away; it was just me, the wall, and the flicker of borrowed lives on the other side.