HALFWAY HOME

I moved to Chicago with four boxes, a suitcase full of my grandmother's cookbooks, and exactly one plan: work hard, send money home, and hold myself together while I did it.

What I didn't plan for was the guy across the hall.

Julian doesn't talk much. He doesn't do small talk, doesn't smile at strangers, and seems to have decided the whole world outside his apartment isn't worth the effort of being kind to. Except, somehow, me. And his younger brother, who became my closest friend here within days of meeting him.

I didn't come to Chicago looking for anyone. I came because an article I wrote about my grandmother's lemon tree went further than I ever expected it to, and because leaving was the only way I knew to help the people I love most, even from thousands of miles away. I still don't know if it was the right one. What I didn't expect was to start listening for footsteps in the hallway, or to notice the exact sound of his front door, or to feel something shift every time he calls me anything other than my name.

Julian is holding onto a secret, one that could unravel everything he's spent years quietly building for himself and his brother the moment it comes to light. And I'm chasing the biggest story of my career, one that keeps leading me closer to the very thing he's trying to protect.

This is a story about two people who left everything behind to survive, who found each other by accident across the space of a hallway, and who have to decide whether love is worth the risk of losing everything all over again.

A slow-burn, grumpy x sunshine romance about the families we're born into, the families we build, and the terrifying, addictive ache of finally letting someone in.