Finally, I have a huge project to work on. From morning till night I'm in the studio, take hundreds of pictures, think only about setting the light, the composition... I don't think about you, but I don't think about Hart either. I don't even see him. Sometimes in the middle of the night, I hear his heavy steps and go back to sleep again.

This night it even seemed to me that I heard voices.

My life still lies in the boxes.

I'm getting ready for work in the morning. As I brew coffee in the kitchen, I hear the door open behind me. The one that leads to Hart's room. I get tensed. I haven't seen him all week...

And... he turned into a woman? At least, a woman comes out of his room.

"Hello," she says through clenched teeth. She's missing a few. Her makeup is smeared, and I feel a stench of alcohol wafting across the whole room. "Where is the toilet?"

I silently point her to the bathroom door, and she leaves. I can't shake off the feeling. I can't even control my face.

Okay, I got that Hart is no saint, but...

I don't want to see this lady again, so I quickly finish my coffee and leave. But I keep thinking about it all day.

What I could not imagine though is that every single day for the next week I'd be meeting a new girl in the morning. Every morning. They all looked similar. One of them left a syringe in the bathroom... And something tells me that was not an insulin shot... Oh, no, stop. I must not judge... And it's not my business. But...

Damn... I'm angry... I'm so angry. And I'm so damn tired. I want to lie down and sleep. But I don't want to sleep there knowing that Hart is fucking someone next door.

I have to calm down. It's not my business. Let him do what he wants. He's not my concern. He's just a neighbor, who, by the way, with this exception, is quite tolerable. A neighbor whom I don't even see.

I come home late. The apartment smells of cigarette smoke, which I can't stand. The door to my room is open. An unpleasant feeling runs cold down my back. I run inside.

No, no, no. No!

Damn it!

Heck!

I storm into Hart's room. He is asleep, sprawling on the bed. He's completely naked. But I don't give a damn about it now. I shake him as hard as I can, but it has no effect. Then I pour a glass of ice water over his head.

He jumps up, looking at me with crazed eyes. Maybe he even wants to hit me, but I don't care.

"Someone robbed me!" I yell. Hart tries to comprehend the meaning of my words. I point to the door and repeat it in an even more angry tone. Now I'm ready to punch him. I don't wait for his reaction. I march out of his room and call the police.

What a merry night awaits me. But I quickly found out what I had lost... The boxes were never unpacked. Only a couple with the most frequently used items. The boxes were all numbered, and I have a list of things for each box.

"Camera, laptop, golden ring, locket," I read the list, compiled by the policeman from my words. He then interrogates Hart, trying to establish the identity of the girl who was here. But Hart is not much of a help. He doesn't even remember her face.

I go to bed depressed and with no hope of ever seeing my things again.

...to be honest... I don't feel as sorry for the camera and laptop as for my ring and locket. It's all about you. Why didn't this thief steal the cash from my sock?.. Why exactly this?

In the morning, when I show up in the kitchen, I find Hart there. He looks guilty, however, I can see that an apology will not overcome the barrier of his lips.

"How much...?" He scratches the back of his head and rubs his stubbled cheek, clenching his teeth. No, I'm not going to help him. This is his fault. "What did she steal?"

"Well, clearly not your innocence," I say. He deserved it. Hart silently accepts the reproach.

I come to work devastated, but I try to hold on so it'd not affect the project in any way. However, many people notice my mood. During the break, Emma comes up to me. Hopefully, it's not about another date. I swear I'll snap.

"What happened, Gray? You are in such a terrible mood." She looks me in the eyes sympathetically.

"I was robbed," I breathe out.

"No way!" She rolls her eyes. "I told you that living in a loft on the outskirts of town was a bad idea!"

"The loft is fine... But my roommate..."

"The roommate robbed you?!"

"No, but he contributed," I say gloomily and glance at my watch.

"Your roommate is a brutal unshaven guy?"

"What?" I ask again and turn to her, but she does not look at me. I follow her gaze and bump into Hart. He is clearly not comfortable here. The models coquettishly shoot him with their eyes, but the caliber is too small... Sorry, girls, his taste is poor...

He is also noticed by Marcus, the creative director. Today is the last day of the project - the lingerie collection - this is his passion, so he could not miss it. He walks over to Hart and looks him up and down.

"Regina is completely out of her mind. I asked her for a different type... Although..." Marcus tilts his head, staring at the scars, Hart's face is gradually getting fierce. I'm in no hurry to get off the couch, I'm curious about what will happen next, but common sense puts me on my feet.

"Marcus, this is not a model," I say, stepping closer. "It's for me."

"Hmm," Marcus smirks as if in disappointment. "And I even began to like him. Call Regina sometime." He slips his business card into the breast pocket of Hart's denim jacket. Hart opens his mouth to say something.

Oh, it's so curious. I would hate to miss a scene like this, but again prudence prevails, and I take Hart to my office. Having closed the door, I hastily say, "I have a lot of work, what do you want?"

Hart pulls a package out of his pocket and hands it to me. I'm at a loss for words. Is it Christmas already?..

The bundle contains my ring and locket, and my face breaks into a smile.

"She already pushed the laptop and the camera, I will return your money," says Hart. I don't answer, looking at the treasure that has returned to me. Hart is marking time and then opens the door.

"Next time, choose a better partner," I say, hiding the ring and medallion in my pocket. "Maybe... Do you want me to introduce you to someone here?"

I look around as if choosing a candidate for him and notice how Emma is giving me signs frantically and looking at me imploringly.

"There, this is our administrator, Emma," I point at her.

Hart hums and leaves.

"What kind of friend are you?" Emma hisses at me indignantly when I return to her. "I introduced you to so many guys, and you!.. Or do you keep him for yourself?" Her gaze instantly turns sly.

Fortunately, I don't have to answer her question because the break is over. The rest of the day I work way more productively.

When I get home, Hart, oddly enough, is sober. He sits in front of the TV in the living room and eats Chinese food from the boxes.

I don't have the strength to cook, I don't have the strength to go anywhere. Somehow I didn't think about my dinner...

"Do you want to eat?" suddenly asks Hart and nods at the boxes on the table. I shrug and sit down next to him. I choose chicken egg noodles, sprinkle them generously with soy sauce, and sit back on the couch. My legs and arms are buzzing from work, and I can feel them relaxing to the witty jokes of Jimmy Fallon. And Hart and I even laugh at the same things a couple of times. It embarrasses me terribly. And at the same time, this is the most enjoyable evening for me in a long, long time. I forget my ring and locket in my shirt pocket and go to bed.

The next day I wake up broken, if not sick. I hear Hart leave for work, and all day I walk around wrapped in a blanket, finishing Chinese food and watching TV.

I just have to admit, I was tired and wanted to be lazy. If not for a terrible headache...

Hart returns a little later than seven. I know this because his arrival woke me up - I fell asleep on the couch in front of the TV with a box of food in my hands. Hart suppresses a smile as he looks at me. I rub my face nervously.

"This is for you," without preamble, Hart hands me a camera... made of pasta! Is he kidding?! "Natalie did it at school, she told me to give it to you."

My indignation subsides immediately.

"Thank you," I say and sneeze loudly. "Oh devil, am I sick? I'd rather go to my room. Otherwise, I will infect you too."

I don't know if Hart appreciated my concern, but it was clear from his face that he wanted to tell me something else, but didn't.

The scar on his neck has become pale. It's visible only in a certain light, but his eyes are still the same... he is still gloomy and grumpy... Why do I care? I'm definitely sick, and I need to sleep.

But instead, I look at his photographs. I have two where he smiles. I stare at them for a long time. Sometimes it seems to me that this has never happened.

So it's safe to say that Hart began to behave well. He comes home on time, he stopped drinking. He even changes his t-shirts regularly. And he takes a shower every day...

I know this because I bump into him every time he comes out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. This is pure coincidence...

Yeah...

...his body looks beautiful to me. Despite the scars... He has plenty of them.

I have one scar. Eight inches on the thigh of the right leg... And more than anything, I wish I hadn't had it. It's like a line that divides my life into 'before' and 'after'. I limp a little because of it, but it's almost imperceptible.