RIVALS NEXT DOOR

chapter 4

Clara blinked awake, the sunlight filtering through her blinds far too bright for comfort. She groaned, groping for her phone. As she finally grabbed it, her eyes widened slightly at the time—11:00 a.m.

“Damn, I got some nice sleep,” she mumbled to herself, rubbing her eyes. Just as she switched on her phone then, a flurry of notifications buzzed her phone to life.

*Lena: We had to leave for work.* 
*Lena: Didn’t wake you up, you were dead asleep.* 
*Lena: Call us later!*

Clara sighed, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She stretched lazily before heading to the bathroom to shower. After freshening up, she threw on some casual clothes and wandered downstairs, her eyes immediately landing on the mess from the night before—empty bottles, pizza boxes, and random clutter scattered everywhere.

Scratching her head, she let out a resigned sigh. “This is going to be difficult now.” With little enthusiasm, she grabbed a trash bag and spent the next hour cleaning up the worst of it.

Once the place looked semi-decent, her stomach growled. She wandered into the kitchen, standing in front of the fridge, but quickly lost motivation to make anything. “Nah,” she muttered, reaching for her phone again and ordering breakfast.

Clara flopped onto the couch, lazily flipping through channels on the TV. She barely paid attention to what was on until the doorbell rang.She practically hopped off the couch, but as she opened the door to grab her food, something else caught her eye.

A sleek black car was parked next door, and movers were unloading things from a truck onto the lawn. The house next to hers had been empty for ages, and now it looked like someone was finally moving in. And there was the same nosy old woman standing outside, giving the movers way too many instructions.

Carrying her breakfast bag, Clara smirked, strolling toward the old lady. “Did you finally find someone who would actually buy this place?” she asked, clearly amused.

The old woman glared at her. “None of your business,” she snapped.

Clara rolled her eyes. “Being rude isn’t good for your health, Grandma,” she replied, chuckling under her breath.

The woman’s eyes narrowed. “You and your rowdy friends were loud last night. I’ve told you before, you can do whatever you want, but keep it quiet. You make too much noise around here, and I’m telling you again—”

Clara’s smirk faded as she interrupted, her voice sharp. “Look, Grandma, you own this house—” she pointed to the one next door, “—not the whole neighborhood. Stop acting like you're the boss of the block. And that house?” She gestured toward the one being moved into. “Looks like it’s about as old as you are.”

Before the old woman could snap back, the door of the sleek car swung open. A man stepped out, shutting the door behind him. He was tall, with striking features, and Clara found herself momentarily distracted, taking in his well-built frame and cool demeanor. He walked right past her, not sparing her a glance.

“Grandma!” he said, his voice calm but firm, “you shouldn’t argue with irrelevant people. Just ignore them.” He guided the old woman away with ease.

Clara’s jaw tightened. “That mf—so rude!” she hissed under her breath, glaring at his back. Scoffing, she stormed back inside, slamming the door behind her and muttering curses the whole way back to her couch.

Clara dropped onto the couch, tearing into her breakfast, but she was still fuming. “What does he think of himself? Gosh, so annoying!” she muttered through a mouthful of food. “He must be her grandson… like grandma, like grandson—both annoying!”