S E V E N | Public argument disruption

4 0 0
                                    

Aria

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

Aria

As I stepped out of my front door, ready to head to work, I was startled to find my neighbors gathered outside, their faces etched with a mixture of concern and anger. This wasn't a casual morning meeting-something serious was brewing.

At the forefront of the group was Mr. Brown, the apartment complex manager. His usual easygoing demeanour had been replaced by a stern expression that left no room for pleasantries. "Mrs. Aria, we need to talk about something very important," he said, his voice almost accusatory.

Caught off guard, I forced a calm nod, masking my growing unease. "Of course. Please, come in." I gestured toward the apartment, expecting a minor complaint. Perhaps a noise issue or a missed community fee. Little did I know, this conversation would tear down the fragile normalcy I clung to.

Once inside, the air turned heavy with tension, the kind that made your skin itch. Mr. Brown wasted no time, his words striking like blows. "Your husband, Rian, has become an unbearable problem," he began, his voice tinged with suppressed fury. "Do you have any idea how many complaints we've received? Last night alone, he vomited on my doorstep. Vomited!"

The words hit like a slap. I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, Mrs. Clark, another neighbour, chimed in, her irritation razor-sharp. "And the constant knocking! Midnight visits for sugar or milk, waking up my children-who does that?"

The floodgates opened, and the complaints came pouring in, one after another, each more damming than the last.

"He yells at his TV so loudly I can hear the commentary through two walls."
"He left beer bottles on the stairs last weekend. My son tripped over them!"
"And the arguments, Aria. The shouting late at night-it's unbearable!"

I felt cornered, their words suffocating. My pulse pounded in my ears as I struggled to keep my composure, my lips pressed into a thin line to keep the tears at bay.

Then came the final blow, murmured just loud enough to be heard:

"He was never like this before they got married."
"What happened to him? Did she drive him to this?"

The hot sting of humiliation burned in my chest, flushing my face. I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms, willing myself not to cry. I wanted to defend myself, to shout that I wasn't the cause of Rian's unravelling. Instead, all I could manage was a trembling, "I'll handle it. Please, just give me some time."

Mr. Brown's gaze softened slightly, though his pity was almost worse than his anger. He nodded, then began ushering the others out, leaving me alone in the aftermath of the confrontation.

From Ashes to Forever Where stories live. Discover now