Cure- House, MD

chapter 11: play house

The sun is already beating down as I park in front of my new apartment, the moving truck taking up far more space than it should in the narrow lot. My head is still buzzing faintly from last night's wine-fueled spiral, but today is my day off, and I've told myself I'll focus on one thing: moving in.

I slam the car door and glance up at the modest brick building. It's nothing fancy, but it's in a nice area—a step up from my old place, which felt like a shoebox with peeling paint. I grab the first box from the truck and head toward the door, trying not to trip over the curb in my slightly hungover state.

As I approach the stairs to my unit, I hear a giggle. Glancing up, I see a little girl no older than five peeking out from behind the corner, her wild curls framing a mischievous grin. She's clinging to the leg of a man who's carrying a laundry basket, his long sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms and a smudge of what looks like crayon on his wrist.

"Careful, Sadie," the man says, his tone gentle but firm. "You'll scare her off before she's even moved in."

I laugh softly, adjusting the box in my arms. "Not scared yet."

He looks up, his face lighting up with a friendly smile. He's about my age, maybe a year or two older, with a scruffy beard and warm brown eyes that seem tired but kind.

"You must be the new neighbor," he says, setting the basket down on the step. "I'm Nick, and this is Sadie. We're in 3B, just across the hall."

Sadie giggles again, still hiding behind his leg but peeking out with wide, curious eyes. "Hi," she says shyly, her voice small.

"Hi, Sadie," I reply, smiling at her before looking back at Nick. "I'm Evelyn. 3A. And yeah, just moving in today." I nod toward the truck. "Though it might take me a while."

Nick glances at the truck, then back at me. "Need a hand? I've got a few hours to kill, and Sadie loves helping with stuff she's probably not strong enough to carry."

Sadie gasps, offended. "I'm strong!" she protests, stomping one tiny sneakered foot.

Nick ruffles her curls with a grin. "She's very strong," he corrects himself.

I laugh, shifting the box in my arms again. "I wouldn't want to impose..."

"It's not imposing," Nick interrupts, picking up the laundry basket and tucking it under his arm. "Besides, you're going to be seeing a lot of us. Might as well start off neighborly."

I hesitate for a moment before nodding. "Alright. But no heavy lifting for Sadie," I add, winking at her.

"Deal," Nick says, gesturing for me to lead the way. "Come on, Sadie. Let's help Miss Evelyn move in."

Sadie cheers, grabbing the edge of my box to "help" me carry it up the stairs. Her enthusiasm is infectious, and for the first time in what feels like weeks, I feel the weight in my chest lift, just a little.

-

The apartment is finally starting to feel like a home—or at least less like a storage unit. Boxes are still scattered around, but the essentials are unpacked, and the living room is functional enough for now. Sadie is perched on the floor in front of the TV, completely absorbed in some colorful cartoon, her little feet kicking absentmindedly as she hums along to the theme song.

Nick and I sit on the couch, the two of us sipping water from mismatched glasses I dug out of a box. The afternoon light filters through the blinds, making the space feel warm and inviting. It's the most relaxed I've felt in days.

"So," Nick says, leaning back against the couch with an easy smile, "what do you do for a living?"

I chuckle, setting my glass on the coffee table. "I'm a neurologist. I work at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital."