Garrett

Garrett's past

If anyone asked him why he lived alone, Garrett always gave the same answer:

—Because I like peace and quiet.

It was a half-truth.

The real reason began eight years ago.

Garrett grew up in a house where silence never meant peace. His parents argued constantly, and when he was sixteen, they decided to separate. Each went their separate ways, too busy with their own lives to notice that their son was being left alone.

She learned to cook, to clean, to solve her problems without asking for help. She discovered that depending on someone only ended in disappointment.

At university, he was a brilliant software engineering student. There he also met the only woman he was ever truly in love with. For four years he believed he had found a home with her, until one day he discovered she had been in another relationship for months.

There were no screams or scenes.

He just packed his suitcase and left.

From then on, he stopped believing in promises.

She moved to an apartment where no one knew her story and began working remotely for international companies. The salary was excellent, enough to live comfortably without leaving home.

Over time, he converted a room into a gym. Working out was the only way he knew to quiet the noise in his head. Weights, a multi-gym, a treadmill... Everything was impeccably organized.

His routine was always the same: work, train, cook, sleep.

And repeat.

He had no close friends. Not because he was unfriendly, but because he never let anyone get close enough. He spoke little, avoided gatherings, and preferred the company of his cat and the sound of rain against the windows.

The loneliness stopped hurting a long time ago.

It became a habit.

Until a neighbor appeared at her door with a homemade lasagna and such a warm smile that, for the first time in years

Garrett's appearance Garrett was twenty-six years old. He was tall, with an athletic and muscular build, the result of training on the machines he kept in a room of his apartment. His fair skin contrasted with his long, black hair, always a little disheveled, though clean. His gray eyes, surrounded by light dark circles, gave him a cold and distant expression. He almost always wore simple, dark clothing, with no concern for fashion. His deep voice and reserved demeanor made him seem unapproachable, though deep down he was hiding much more than he let on.

There were perfectly cared-for plants next to the window. Books. A coffee maker. And a black cat asleep on the desk. Nothing else. "What are you doing?" I asked, looking at the screens. —I develop software for foreign companies. His voice was low, almost monotonous. As if talking took more energy than programming for sixteen hours straight. He prepared two cups of coffee. She left one in front of me. He didn't even ask how I was taking it. He had simply been right. It was the strangest conversation of my life. Because we spoke very little. But the silence wasn't awkward. It was... warm. As if two strangers understood that neither needed to pretend to be someone else. When the doorman arrived with the keys, I got up to leave. -Thank you. Garrett just gave a small nod. -You are welcome. I thought it would be the last time we would speak. I never imagined that, a few days later, I would be the one knocking on his door with a plate of lasagna as an excuse. And even less likely was that behind that cold, silent, and seemingly unapproachable man, there was a heart that had been waiting for years for someone to have the patience to stay.

The first time I saw Garrett, I thought he was the kind of man who had forgotten how to smile.

He'd lived in the apartment across the hall for almost a year, but he hardly ever went out. Sometimes I'd see him go down to the supermarket wearing a black sweatshirt, his messy dark hair falling over his eyes, and headphones that seemed to shield him from the world.

He wasn't a slovenly man. His clothes were always clean, though simple. It was as if he didn't care about looking attractive, but he did care about keeping himself tidy. There was a difference.

The neighbors made up stories.

—He must be a writer.

—No, he works in IT.

—They say he designs video games.

Nobody really knew.

The light in his study was always on until three or four in the morning. His computer never rested.

I worked from home.

And he lived completely alone.

She never received visitors.

He never threw parties.

He never spoke to anyone.

Until one afternoon it started to rain.

A heavy rain, the kind that makes the city disappear behind the water.

I had forgotten the keys inside the apartment.

I was soaking wet, clutching a shopping bag, when I heard a deep voice behind me.

—Do you need help?

I turned around.

It was Garrett.

Higher than I imagined.

She had deep dark circles under her eyes, as if she hadn't slept well for years, and gray eyes so calm they looked like a lake in winter.

She wasn't smiling.

But he didn't seem bothered either.

Just... tired.

"I forgot my keys," I replied, feeling ridiculous.

He nodded slowly.

—You can wait in my apartment until the doorman arrives.

It's that simple.

Without insisting.

Without asking questions.

His apartment was exactly like him.

Silent.

Tidy.

A huge computer took up almost an entire wall, with three monitors filled with lines of code and digital designs.