Sunday morning felt different from Saturday. The building was even quieter, like everyone had decided to sleep in at the same time. Liam woke up later than planned, rolled out of bed, and took a moment to adjust to the silence. He brewed coffee again, the smell filling the apartment in a way that made it feel a little more lived-in.

He didn’t have much he needed to do, but he liked starting the day with something simple. He folded the laundry he finished last night, stacked the shirts on the one shelf he had cleared, and tossed the socks into a drawer. Basic order, nothing special.

Around mid-morning, he decided to go outside for a walk. The air had that weekend mix—cool, steady, not rushed. He passed a man watering plants from his balcony, kids drawing chalk shapes on the sidewalk, a woman jogging with headphones that weren’t quite staying in place. The neighborhood felt familiar already, like he had been there longer than a week.

He walked past the bakery he’d smelled on Friday. The window was fogged from the heat inside, and a line stretched to the door. He didn’t feel like waiting, so he kept going and turned toward a small street he hadn’t explored yet. It had a few shops—one sold used books, another fixed bicycles, and one looked like a thrift store run by someone who only opened when they felt like it.

He stepped into the bookstore out of curiosity. Inside, shelves were crammed with paperbacks and dust jackets that had been touched too many times. The owner, an older man with round glasses, nodded at him but didn’t say anything. Liam walked through the narrow aisles, scanning titles without picking anything up. He didn’t need a book; he just needed the quiet.

After a few minutes, he left and continued his walk. He bought a sandwich from a food truck near the corner and ate it sitting on a low stone wall. People walked by with their Sunday routines—holding coffees, carrying folded newspapers, heading toward brunch spots. The city moved differently on Sundays, slower but not sleepy.

When he got back to his building, the front door swung open and someone walked out carrying a cat in a carrier. Liam stepped aside to let them pass. He heard a soft meow as they went down the steps.

Inside, he checked his mailbox. Junk mail, coupons, and a letter addressed to someone who no longer lived there. He carried them upstairs anyway, tossing what he didn’t need into the small trash bin near the elevator.

On the second floor, he heard voices. Not loud—just casual conversation. Zoey’s door was open a few inches, and Lily stood in the doorway holding a cup of iced tea. Zoey sat on the floor inside the apartment, shoes off, hair tied loosely. She looked up when Lily turned.

Lily noticed him first. “Hey, third floor,” she said.

“Hey,” Liam replied.

Zoey leaned slightly to see him. “Hi. You went out early.”

“Just walking,” he said. “Trying to learn the neighborhood.”

“It’s a good one,” Zoey said. “Except for the laundromat on Ninth. Don’t go there unless you want to argue with a machine that eats quarters.”

Lily nodded. “And the owner ignores you unless you yell.”

“I’ll avoid it,” Liam said.

Lily took a sip from her cup. “We’re heading out for lunch later. Zoey’s trying to decide if she wants real food or something she regrets.”

Zoey looked up at her. “Regret food is real food.”

“It’s a category,” Lily said.

Liam smiled. “Hard choices.”

Zoey pointed at him. “See? He understands.”

Lily glanced between them with an amused expression. “Anyway, if you ever want the full neighborhood food tour, Zoey has every menu memorized.”

Zoey threw a small cushion at her. “I don’t.”

“You do,” Lily said.

“Fine, maybe a little,” Zoey said.

Liam didn’t step closer, but he stayed where he was. The conversation felt easy enough.

Lily looked at him again. “We’re going to a place on Harbor later. If you ever need good weekend breakfast, they do pancakes the size of your face.”

Zoey added, “But only go on weekdays. Weekends are chaos.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Liam said.

Lily checked her phone. “I should go grab my laundry. If I leave it too long, someone will fold it and leave it on the counter again.”

“That sounds helpful,” Liam said.

“It depends on the folder,” Lily answered.

She waved at both of them and walked off. Zoey leaned against her door frame and pulled the iced tea Lily left on the floor beside her.

“You were out long,” she said.

“Just wandered,” Liam said. “Found a bookstore. Walked around the blocks.”

“That bookstore smells like old carpet,” Zoey said. “But the owner’s nice.”

“He didn’t talk much.”

“He doesn’t talk at all unless you ask for something specific,” Zoey said. “Lily once asked if he had travel books and he lectured her about airports for twenty minutes.”

Liam raised an eyebrow. “Airports?”

“No one knows why.”

He stood a little straighter. “You heading out later?”

Zoey shrugged. “Maybe. Depends how motivated I feel. Sundays and I have trust issues.”

“Fair.”

She looked up at him again. “How’s the unpacking going?”

“Slow. I found more kitchen stuff I forgot I owned.”

“That sounds like progress,” Zoey said. “At least you’re not eating cereal for every meal.”

“Not every meal,” Liam said.

Zoey laughed softly. “Better than me. I had toast for lunch.”

She shifted her iced tea to the other hand. “You nervous about tomorrow?”

Liam kept his tone even. “A little. Normal stuff.”

“Same,” Zoey said. “I keep trying not to think about it, which just makes me think about it more.”

“That’s usually how it goes.”

She gave a small nod. “Well… good luck tomorrow. With whatever your meeting is.”

“You too,” Liam said.

Zoey nudged her door open wider with her foot. “Okay. I should clean something before Lily judges me.”

“She doesn’t seem like the judging type.”

“She doesn’t judge. She comments,” Zoey said. “There’s a difference.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“See you later, Liam.”

“See you.”

She slipped back inside her apartment and closed the door. Liam stood there for another second before going upstairs to his own place.

Inside, the room felt a little less empty than when he first moved in. He opened a window, put away the groceries he had left on the counter, and sat at the table while the afternoon light stretched across the floor.

He didn’t touch any work. He didn’t need to. Monday would happen whether he prepared for it or not.

Instead, he spent the time cooking something simple and calling it dinner earlier than he normally would. Later, he washed dishes and stacked them neatly on the counter.

As the sun dipped and the building settled into its Sunday-night quiet, he felt the slow pull of routine forming—one that didn’t feel forced or heavy. Just normal.

Before he went to bed, he paused for a moment, thinking about the hallway conversation, Lily’s teasing, Zoey’s way of sitting on the floor like she had lived there forever.

He turned off the lights.

Monday was close now.

Close enough that he could feel it, but not close enough to change how the night felt.