The first thing Tatum could register when she woke up was the shrill sound of her neighbor's tea kettle. Not the rain that was pattering on her window, not the meow of her cat waiting to be fed, but a tea kettle. This was basically part of Tatum’s morning routine at this point. Even though she couldn’t see her neighbor, she felt like she knew the rhytm of his mornings.

Tatum’s boxes were still half unpacked, with her bookshelf leaning awkwardly against the wall, half full of books and random trinkets she’s collected over the years. As she rolled over in bed, she put her hand to the wall. Her neighbor seemed to like his tea strong and mornings slow.

As sat up in bed, the hum of the kettle quieted. She pulled her hand off the wall, embarssed by her own curiousity, but the silence left a strange sense of emptiness behind.

One rainy afternoon, she finally met him. Tatum had just finished coming up the stairs, her arms full of grocery bags, as one bag split open. Laughing at her own luck, she crouched down to pick up the contents of the bag. Just as she was reaching for an apple, a hand came into view.

“This yours?” a voice asked. Tatum looked up to see a boy, who seemed about her age, with dark hair that fell into his sky blue eyes. He was so close to Tatum that she could smell his citrus scented cologne.

Tatum nodded, flustered at how close this boy was to her. “Yeah, it fell out of my bag.”

He chuckled. “Happens to the best of us,” holding out the apple to Tatum.

“Thanks,” she said, taking the apple from him. Their fingers burhsed. Brief, but warm.

“No problem,” he said, rising to his feet and offering her a hand. “I’m Chase. Apartment 3C.”

Taking his hand, “Tatum. I’m in 3D.”

“Welcome to the building. Fair warning, the walls are really thin.”

She smiled, “I noticed. You hum in the morning.”

That seemed to catch Chase off guard. His eyebrows raised and a pink blush appeared on his cheeks. “You can hear that?” 

“Every morning. Don’t worry though, it’s kind of nice.”

He looked down, his blush becoming more prominent by the second, while a small smile appeared on his face. “Guess I’ll have to start charging for concerts.”

“Only if you take requests.”

He chuckled, and Tatum saw the faded scar on his right cheek. As she fished for her key in her pocket, she could feel Chase’s gaze lingering on her. As she finally unlocked her door and started putting her groceries away, all she could think about was her new neighbor.

Their days seemed to fall into a new rhythm. Every morning, the kettle hissed, slightly muffled by the wall. Tatum’s coffee pot whirred into action, and occasionally she would hear the familiar sound of Chase’s hum.

One morning, there was no sound coming from across the wall at all. No humming, no clink of a mug being set down on the table, just silence. It made Tatum more uncomfortable than she would ever admit. 

Just as Tatum had accepted her fate to a silent morning, she heard a crash. The distinct sound of glass shattering caught her attention. It could’ve been her neighbor on the other side, but she heard a muffled curse. Without thinking, she left her room and knocked on the door of apartment 3C.

As Chase opened it, she noticed a dish towel wrapped around one of his hands. “Hey,” he said shyly. “I guess the wall tattled on me.”

“Are you okay? I heard glass shattering.” Tatum asked, noticing the blood seeping through the towel.

“Yeah. Just dropped my cup.”

“Let me help,” she said, heading back to her apartment before he could argue against it.

She returned with her first-aid kit she always kept under her bathroom sink for situations like this. She carefully grabbed his hand, unwrapping the towel slowly. The cut was small, but deep. Tatum cleaned off the wound, grabbing a bandage from the kit and pressed it into place, feeling the heat of his skin against hers. Neither of them spoke for what seemed like forever. Tatum realized she was still holding his hand long after she put the bandage in place. She pulled away quickly, face turning red,

“Thanks,” he said softly.

“No problem. The wall worries sometimes.”

He smiled, and it feltl ike the space between them had grown smaller.

After that, the wall didn’t hold them apart as much as it used to. They began to talk in the hallways, then on the balcony that connected their apartments. Their conversations would stretch from the late afternoon into dusky evenings. 

One night, as the lights down on the street blinked, Chase said, “Isn’t this weird? We lived next to each other for so long without talking to each other, and here we are.”

Tatum looked up from the book she was reading. “I knew more about your morning routine than you.”

He smiled faintly. “Now, you know too much.”

“Maybe not enough,” she whispered.

His eyes rose to meet hers, and for a second the air seemed to still. She couldn’t read his expressions. It was a mix of hesitation and something else she couldn’t place. It felt like Chase wanted to step closer to her, but wasn’t sure if he should.

Then his phone buzzed, breaking the silence. He glanced away, mumbling something about a work deadline. The moment had seemed to slip away, leaving the chill of something unfinished behind.

By July, she heard a different sound across the wall. The shuffling of boxes.

When Tatum opened the door, she saw a line of boxes outside Chase’s apartment. She knocked on the door of apartment 3C. 

“You’re moving?” she asked just as Chase opened the door.

He looked down shyly. “Yeah. Only across town. It’s a bigger place. Better light. It felt like the time was right.”

Tatum forced a smile. “That’s good.”

He nodded, but the air between them shifted. Not like it had the last few months. This time, the air felt heavy. “Guess the wall will be quieter from now on.”

She wanted to say she’d miss the noise, and how the silence would only be worse, but instead she only said, “Good luck.”

When his door closed for the last time, the hum was gone. No more tea kettle squeal to wake her up, no clinking of a mug, no quiet hums shared between them. Tatum caught herself waiting to hear the sound out of habit. Her mornings felt strangely empty now. The wall had never felt so thick.

Then, one afternoon, Tatum found an envelope that had been slipped under her door. No sender name and no return address. Just her name in handwriting that seemed familiar.

Tatum,

Turns out these new walls are too thick. I can’t hear anything anymore. Not your quiet hums across the wall when you thought I wasn’t listening, not your cat meowing at random hours in the morning, and especially no one checking in on me when I break a glass.

If you happen to be free this Friday at 8, we should meet at the cafe across the street. It’s the one you told me the croissants were worth dying for. If you don’t come, I understand, but I hope you really consider coming. If you do, the wall wasn’t what kept us talking.

-Chase

Tatum couldn’t believe her eyes. She reread the letter, and again after that. The kettle in her kitchen began to hiss. The sound felt so familiar. She smiled to herself. “Guess the wall wasn’t,” she whispered.

As she walked into the cafe, it felt warm and bright. Chase sat by the window in the corner, his hands wrapped around amug, looking like he hadn’t slept much recently. When he saw Tatum, he stood up so fast he nearly spilled the contents of his mug.

“You came,” he said, relief seeping into his voice.

“You asked,” she said, smiling as she slid into the seat next to him.

They seemed to talk for hours. Chase talked about his new apartment and how his neighbors were noisy, but not in the same way Tatum was noisy.

Tatum talked about how it felt too quiet without him across the wall. The tension that had once filled their silence was replaced with something quieter.

At one point, Chase traced the rim of his mug and said, “I thought moving would be good for me, but I think I just need you on the other side.”

Tatum’s chest tightened, but she smiled. “Then, I guess it’s a good thing I like croissants.”

Chase blinked up at her. Stunned for a second, but then he started to laugh. It came unguarded. The kind that starts deep in your chest before spilling out uncontrollably. His shoulders relaxes and some of the tension he had been carrying all evening melted away. The corners of his mouth lifted, just like they did the day he picked up her apple in the hallway. 

“You and your croissants,” he said, shaking his head. “You have no idea how much I missed that.”

Tatum smiled, resting her chin on her hand. She watched how the lines at the edged of his eyes deepened when he laughed, and how the scar on his cheek seemed to disappear as well. She realized that for the first time since Chase had moved, the wall between them felt like it truly disappeared.

For a long time, neither of them spoke. They didn’t need to.

Months later, Tatum woke up to the same sound of a kettle. Only now, it came from her kitchen.

Chase stood by the counter, hair sticking up in a thousand different directions, humming the same tune she used to hear through the wall. The morning light came in through the windows, catching his smile as he turned to her.

“Too loud?” he asked.

“Not at all,” she said, sliding her arms around his waist. “Guess we didn’t really need the wall after all.”

He kissed the top of her head, “Guess not.”

The kettle began to screech. A reminder that there was no longer a wall separating their lives, only the shared rhythm of mornings that belonged to the both of them.