My name’s Tom. I’m 35, a software developer, and for years, I lived under constant stress. The long hours, endless deadlines, and the pressure to stay ahead had drained me completely. I was burned out, exhausted, and desperate for a change.
Then, I found it—a small rental on the ground floor of a two-story house at the end of a quiet cul-de-sac. It was perfect. The neighborhood was peaceful, surrounded by tall trees that swayed gently in the breeze. There was no traffic noise, no honking cars, no loud neighbors. And best of all, the apartment upstairs was vacant when I moved in. For two glorious months, it felt like I had the entire world to myself.
But that peace shattered the day Marie moved in.
A New Neighbor
It was an early Saturday morning when I first saw the moving truck. A woman in scrubs stood outside, directing movers with a firm but tired voice. Her short brown hair was slightly messy, and dark circles under her eyes told me she was no stranger to exhaustion. Two teenage boys were with her, carrying boxes up the stairs.
I stepped outside and waved. “Hey there! Need a hand?”
The woman turned and gave me a small, grateful smile. “Oh, thanks! But I think we’ve got it. I’m Marie,” she said, then motioned to the boys. “These are my sons, Jake and Ethan.”
Jake, the taller one, smirked and nodded. “What’s up?”
Ethan, smaller and quieter, barely glanced at me. “Hey,” he mumbled before turning back to the truck.
“Welcome to the neighborhood,” I said. “I’m Tom. I live downstairs. Let me know if you need anything.”
Marie nodded. “Appreciate it, Tom. I’m starting night shifts soon, so I won’t be around much. But the boys are pretty good about managing things.”
“We’ll keep the place under control,” Jake added, leaning against the truck with an easy grin.
I smiled and went back inside, thinking nothing of it.
The First Night
Three nights later, I was jolted awake by a deep, pounding bass. At first, I thought it was thunder. But then came the laughter, the stomping feet, and the unmistakable sound of furniture scraping across the floor.
Groggy and annoyed, I threw on a hoodie and climbed the stairs. I knocked on their door, and after a few moments, Jake answered, leaning against the doorframe like he’d been expecting me.
“Hey, man,” he said casually.
“Hey,” I kept my voice calm. “The music’s kinda loud. It’s late, and I’ve got work in the morning. Can you turn it down?”
Jake shrugged. “Sure thing.”
I nodded and went back to bed.
Two minutes later, the music got even louder.
That was just the beginning.
The Noise Gets Worse
Over the next few nights, the parties became routine. Every evening, laughter and pounding music filled my apartment. By Friday, I couldn’t take it anymore. I knocked again, this time struggling to hear myself over the blaring speakers.
Jake opened the door, grinning like we were old friends. “Yo, neighbor! What’s up?”
“Jake,” I said, forcing patience into my voice. “It’s past midnight. Can you keep it down?”
Jake tilted his head like he was thinking about it. “Yeah, totally. My bad.”
Before I could respond, Ethan appeared behind him, looking nervous. He met my eyes for a brief moment, then quickly looked away.
“Ethan, shut the door,” Jake said, smirking as it closed in my face.
By Saturday morning, I’d had enough. I recorded the noise, took pictures of the trash they left scattered outside, and emailed them to Mr. Grant, the landlord.
“This needs to stop,” I wrote.
His reply came the next day: Thanks for letting me know. I’ll talk to them.
I sighed, relieved. Maybe that was the end of it.
It wasn’t.
The Lies Begin
The parties didn’t stop. If anything, they got louder. I emailed Mr. Grant again, but his response was the same.
Marie says the boys are well-behaved. I can’t really take sides.
I stared at the email, stunned. How was I supposed to prove what was happening?
One morning, I stepped outside and found an empty beer can on my porch. I glanced up and saw Jake leaning out the window, laughing.
“Not mine!” he called down.
Ethan stood nearby, watching silently. Our eyes met, and for a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something. But then he turned and walked away.
He wasn’t like Jake. I could see it. But he never stopped him.
Then, I had to leave town for a work conference.
The Final Betrayal
When I got back, my body felt lighter than it had in weeks. A week of peace had done wonders. But that relief vanished the moment I stepped onto my porch.
An envelope was taped to my door.
Notice of Termination of Lease.
My heart pounded as I ripped it open. Due to multiple noise complaints, it said, listing disturbances reported every single night while I was gone.
I wasn’t even home.
Furious, I called Mr. Grant. “This is insane! I was out of town—I can prove it.”
After showing him flight records, hotel receipts, and timestamped photos, he finally sighed. “Let’s go to the property. If the noise is still happening, we’ll handle it.”
When we arrived, the bass was already rattling the windows.
Mr. Grant’s jaw tightened. “Unbelievable.”
He knocked loudly.
Marie answered, looking exhausted. “What’s going on?”
Mr. Grant didn’t waste time. “Marie, we have a serious issue.”
Jake lounged against the wall, smirking as always. Ethan sat stiffly beside his mom, looking miserable.
“Tom has proof that he wasn’t home,” Mr. Grant said. “But complaints were filed in his name. That’s fraud.”
Marie blinked, confused. “That’s not possible. My boys wouldn’t—”
Jake scoffed. “Man, I don’t know why you’re making stuff up.”
I pulled out my phone, playing recordings of their parties, showing pictures of the trash, the mess. Then, before Jake could respond, Ethan shot up from his seat.
“It’s true!” he blurted out, his voice shaking.
Marie’s eyes widened. “Ethan?”
His face crumpled. “Jake made me. He used your email to complain about Tom. I didn’t want to, but I was scared. I— I’m sorry.”
Marie paled. “Jake, is this true?”
Jake groaned. “It was just a joke! Who cares?”
“That’s enough,” Marie snapped. She turned to me, eyes filled with shame. “Tom, I am so, so sorry.”
Mr. Grant stood. “Marie, you have 30 days to vacate.”
She nodded, defeated. “We’ll go.”
Jake rolled his eyes, but Ethan looked relieved.
The next morning, I found a note under my door.
Tom,
I’m so sorry for everything. I take full responsibility. Thank you for your patience. I hope one day you can forgive us.
—Marie
I wasn’t sure if I could. But at least, for the first time in months, I had my peace back.
