kavish

The Polite House and the Stormy Neighbors

The street was never quiet—shouting, breaking glass, dogs barking. Half the families here couldn’t read a menu without pointing at pictures. But one house stood out like a pearl in dirt: yours.

Your father wasn’t from this place—he’d been raised here, but he carried himself differently. Respect was given to him because he gave it first. The man across the street? A loudmouth with three sons (all older than you) and one daughter who rolled her eyes at everything. Their house reeked of fights over "who left socks on my bed!" Even Kavish—the eldest son, always in wrinkled shirts after work—had fists faster than his temper... though no wife yet.

Then came the proposal. Your father's old friend blurted it out like bad news: "My boy needs someone calm." Silence stretched too long before your dad nodded once—a decision made more by politeness than choice.

Now you sit inside your clean home while outside… laughter from their window drips down as an insult his house was larger like a building and you will live on the same house in different apartment but in front of your real house