My Downstairs Neighbor Asked Me to Be Quieter at Night, but I Have Not Been Home for the past Week

When Piper returns from a trip with her friends, she cannot wait to get home to her husband. But as she unpacks her car, a neighbor approaches her, complaining about the noise from her apartment. If Piper wasn’t home, who was Matthew entertaining in her absence?

I had just returned from a blissful week-long camping trip with my friends. It was all about us taking time away from our lives and enjoying being away from the city.

My husband, Matthew, had stayed behind, claiming that he needed to stay at home.

“I have to be home, Piper,” he said when I was packing my bags. “It’s just work responsibilities. There are meetings and presentations coming up.”

“Are you sure?” I asked him. “Why don’t you come along, and then we can find you a place to work in between it all?”

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he said. “You go and join the others and have fun. You need some time away from this place.”

He continued to persuade me to go on the trip, and eventually, I gave in.

“If you’re sure, then it’s settled. I’ll go,” I said. “But I’ll meal prep your food for you before I go.”

Two weeks later, I was back home, feeling rejuvenated and happy to be back with my husband.

“I missed you,” I said when I walked into the house.

Matthew was cooking for us, music was playing in the background, and I felt grateful that I could come home to him.

“I’m just going to unpack the car,” I said. “But dinner smells great!”

I went outside and began to unpack my things when our downstairs neighbor, Mrs. Peterson, approached me by the car. Her stern expression made me pause everything.

“Is everything okay?” I asked her, ready to jump at whatever she needed.

“No, Piper,” she said, crossing her arms. “I know that you and your husband are a young couple and stay up until the late hours. But could you try and keep it quiet at night? At least from about nine-thirty. For the past week, I could barely sleep.”

I blinked, taken aback.

“What? Mrs. Peterson, I haven’t been home all week. Are you sure that it was coming from our place?”

The old woman frowned, and I could tell that she was trying to see if I was joking or not.

“Well, someone was making a lot of noise, Piper,” she said. “It sounded like a party every single night.”

I wasn’t sure what I was listening to. I knew that Matthew was a good guy, but we were on the top floor, and there wasn’t anyone living above us.

Was there a possibility that I didn’t know my husband as well as I thought?

I apologized profusely, my mind racing. As soon as she walked away, I rushed upstairs to confront Matthew. I needed to know what Mrs. Peterson was talking about.

If he had been entertaining people, then that was one thing, and it was okay.

But what if he was having an affair?

“Stop it,” I muttered to myself as I stood in the elevator.

I found my husband lounging on the couch, watching TV.

“Matt, we need to talk,” I said, my voice giving me away.

He looked at me, picked up the remote, and switched the TV off.

“What’s wrong, Piper?”

“Mrs. Peterson just complained about noise coming from our apartment every night last week. I wasn’t here, Matthew. What the hell is going on, and who were you making so much noise with?”

My husband’s face paled, and he buried his face in his hands. My heart sank.

There was something about the resignation of his body that made me think that he was guilty. But guilty of what?

Was he simply guilty of having friends over? Or an affair?

“Please, just tell me the truth,” I pleaded, sitting down on the couch across from him.

“I’m not having an affair,” he muttered, barely audible. “And I know that’s what you’re thinking. But I was just ashamed to tell you the truth.”

“What truth? What do you mean? What’s going on?” I asked, the questions hurling themselves at Matthew.

My husband took a deep breath and looked up, his eyes filled with something that I couldn’t understand.

“I lost my job a few months ago, Piper. I didn’t know how to tell you. But I’ve been desperate to make money so that you wouldn’t notice the shortfall. While you were gone, I rented out our apartment to make some money. I stayed at Trent’s place while the apartment was rented out.”

I sighed, the relief and confusion dissipating from my body.

“So, the noise was from the people who rented out the place?” I asked, needing to hear it from him.

He nodded.

“I’m sorry, love,” Matthew said. “I just didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want you to worry. And I didn’t want you to miss the trip just because of me. I also had an interview during the first week, and I wasn’t about to reschedule it.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me, Matt?” I asked. “We could have figured something out together.”

“I know,” he said, his voice breaking. “But I was just scared about letting you down.”

“We’re a team, Matthew,” I said. “You don’t have to face things like these alone. We can deal with this together. That’s what marriage is about.”

My husband smiled and pulled me toward him.

“I understand that now,” he said.

We sat in silence for a while, both trying to figure out the next move. I knew that he would have been trying to find another job, and I didn’t want to ask him a million questions about it.

He would tell me when something came up.

“Come,” he said. “Let’s eat.”

We sat down at the table, and Matthew asked me about the trip.

“Tell me everything,” he said. “Did Liam get drunk and do something stupid?”

“Of course he did!” I laughed as Matthew poured me a glass of wine. “He tried moonshine from some other campers and ended up streaking, running through tents.”

“I bet Sasha wasn’t impressed,” Matthew laughed. “That couple is always disagreeing.”

As we did the dishes together that evening, Matthew sighed and leaned against the counter.

“Thank you for understanding,” he said. “Thank you for not thinking that I was covering up an affair.”

I smiled at my husband, ashamed that I entertained the thought of him having another woman in our home.

“But did you make sure to change the bedding?” I asked him. “I’m not about to sleep in a bed that other people have been in.”

Matthew laughed loudly.

“Our bedroom was locked, darling,” he said. “They only used the guest room.”

Over the next few days, we talked about everything. We spoke about the loss of his job, the financial strain, and our plan moving forward.

“I’m actively looking, Piper,” he said over coffee and toast the next morning. “I’ve set up alerts for job positions that I would fit into. And I’ve cut down on any other unnecessary expenses. This isn’t going to be for long. I can promise you that.”

As for Mrs. Peterson, I went downstairs to her apartment, ready to explain everything.

“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I didn’t know about everything Matthew was going through. And he ended up letting our apartment out as an Airbnb for the week, just to make some money off it.”

“Oh, honey,” she said, her eyes softening as she put the kettle on. “It’s okay! I understand it now. I just thought that you two were taking advantage of the situation. But I get it now.”

“Thank you for understanding,” I said. “We just need a minute to get back on our feet.”

Mrs. Peterson faffed around the kitchen, making us some tea.

“Look, Piper,” she said, giving me a plate of biscuits. “I’m here and willing to help you out if you ever need the help.”

It turned out that in her youth, Mrs. Peterson had been through tough times herself and knew how hard it could be to ask for help.

What would you have done?

On Thanksgiving Eve, I Took in an Abandoned Child Only to Uncover My Boyfriend’s True Intentions — Story of the Day

On Thanksgiving Eve, a single moment unraveled everything I thought I knew about love, family, and the future I’d planned. One unexpected encounter forced me to face a choice I never saw coming.

My cart was brimming with everything needed for the perfect Thanksgiving Eve: turkey, cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie, and even a bouquet of fresh flowers for the centerpiece. It was a ritual I loved, a chance to create something warm and special, even if Paul and I hadn’t fully agreed on what “special” meant for our future.

Passing the baby aisle, I couldn’t help but slow down. Rows of soft onesies and tiny shoes drew my gaze. I imagined the life I longed for—children laughing, little hands helping set the table. Paul hadn’t warmed to the idea yet, but I told myself he would someday.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“I need to grab some wine,” Paul said suddenly, pulling me from my thoughts. “Why don’t you finish up here? I’ll meet you at the car.”

“Okay. Don’t be long.”

He leaned in, kissed my cheek lightly, and walked away toward the liquor section. Before I could reach for the whipped cream on my list, a frantic voice startled me.

“Excuse me! Please, can you hold her for just a minute?”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

I turned to see a woman, her face pale and her eyes darting around. Without waiting for my answer, she placed a small child in my arms.

“I’ll be right back!” she said hurriedly and disappeared into the aisles.

The little girl was so light in my arms, clutching a well-worn stuffed rabbit and staring up at me. Her light curls framed her face, giving her an angelic, fragile look.

“Uh… hi there,” I said, crouching down to her level and carefully setting her on her feet. “What’s your name?”

“Ella,” she whispered, holding her rabbit closer.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“That’s a beautiful name.

I glanced around, hoping to catch sight of her mother, but the aisle was empty. Minutes ticked by, turning into ten. Unease settled deep in my stomach.

I couldn’t wait any longer, so I walked with Ella to the security desk to seek help to locate her mother. The staff quickly made an announcement over the intercom, but no one came forward. Ella pressed herself against my side.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“Mommy said I’d spend the holidays with a new mommy,” she whispered.

The words hit me like a blow. My throat tightened as I fought back the surge of emotion.

“Lisa?” Paul approached, holding a bottle of wine in one hand and frowning as he took in the scene.

“What’s going on?” he asked, glancing between Ella and me.

I explained quickly, my words tumbling out.

“We need to take her to the police,” Paul said firmly. “They’ll know what to do.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

I hesitated, looking down at Ella. Her tiny hand was still gripping mine like I was the only thing anchoring her to safety.

“Paul, I…”

“This isn’t something you can solve, Lisa,” he interrupted. “It’s not safe to keep her with us.”

I nodded, feeling a heavy weight settle in my chest as we walked to the car. Ella climbed into the backseat. She didn’t cry or fuss, she just stared quietly out the window as the streetlights flickered past.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

***

Paul drove in silence. I glanced at Ella. Her small figure looked so vulnerable huddled in the back seat. With every passing mile, the pull to protect her only grew stronger.

“Is that turkey in the bag?” Ella’s small voice broke the silence.

“Yes,” I said, turning slightly to meet her gaze. “It’s for Thanksgiving dinner.”

“What’s Thanksgiving?” she asked, tilting her head as though trying to puzzle it out.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“It’s a holiday where we celebrate everything we’re thankful for,” I explained. “We gather with family, share a big meal, and spend time together.”

She frowned slightly. “I’ve never had a Thanksgiving. Is turkey good?”

The simplicity of her question hit me harder than I expected.

“Turkey’s delicious. And cranberry sauce, too. Have you ever tried it?”

Ella shook her head, clutching the rabbit closer. “No. Mommy says holidays are for other people.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

My heart ached for her. As the police station came into view, I felt my pulse quicken.

“Paul, pull over,” I said suddenly, pointing to a gas station on the right.

“What?” He glanced at me, his brows knitting together. “We’re almost there, Lisa. Let’s just get this done.”

“Please, Paul. I need a moment to think.”

With a huff of frustration, he turned into the gas station and parked by the pumps. I unbuckled my seatbelt and stepped out into the crisp November air.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

Paul followed. “What are you doing?”

“I’m not sure we should take her to the station yet. She’s just a child, Paul. She’s never had a Thanksgiving dinner. She’s never even tasted turkey.”

“And how is that our problem?” he shot back, gesturing toward the car. “Lisa, this isn’t our responsibility.”

“Maybe not. But doesn’t she deserve one happy evening? One night where she feels safe and loved?”

“Are you serious right now? You want to bring a stranger’s kid into our home? Do you even hear yourself?”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

I nodded. At that moment, Paul strode to the car, opened the back door, and motioned for Ella to get out.

“Paul, wait…” I started, panic rising in my chest.

“Good luck, Lisa,” he said coldly, climbing back into the driver’s seat.

Without another glance, he pulled away, leaving Ella and me standing at the gas station.

“It’s okay,” Ella whispered, looking up at me with a brave smile.

Her words both broke and steadied me. I knew I couldn’t turn back.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

***

Ella and I returned to the store. As we wandered through the aisles, I let her pick out a few extra decorations—paper turkeys, bright orange streamers, and even a tiny plush turkey she hugged tightly as if it were a long-lost friend.

“Can we get these too?” she asked, pointing to a pack of colorful paper napkins with cartoon pilgrims on them.

“Of course,” I said, smiling. “Anything else?”

She tilted her head thoughtfully, then grabbed a bag of marshmallows. “These.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

I couldn’t go back to Paul’s place, but thankfully, I had my small apartment. It wasn’t festive or particularly grand, but it was mine. So, arriving at my apartment, we began the transformation.

Ella’s enthusiasm was contagious as she helped unpack the bags. Later, she insisted on stirring the cranberry sauce, her small hands gripping the wooden spoon tightly as she stood on a step stool.

“Is this okay?” she asked, looking up at me.

“It’s perfect,” I assured her. “You’re a natural.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

The apartment began to glow from the warmth Ella brought into the space. When the turkey was finally ready, I carried it to the table, and Ella gasped as if I had presented her with a treasure.

“It’s so big,” she whispered, her eyes as round as the plates I’d set out.

“Let’s eat!” I said, pulling out a chair for her.

She hesitated, standing by her seat. “This is like a real Thanksgiving, right?”

“It is. The realest one I’ve ever had.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

We sat together, and Ella’s laughter rang out as she tried cranberry sauce for the first time, her face scrunching up before she declared it “weird but good.”

Ella sat on the floor, cradling her plush turkey and staring at the glowing candles.

“Tomorrow, it’ll be over. I know I can’t stay.”

I knelt beside her, pulling her into my arms. “Ella, I wish you could. But tonight is ours, okay? No one can take this away.”

She nodded against my shoulder. “Thank you for today. It was the best day ever.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

Meanwhile, a sharp knock at the door shattered the moment. I opened the door to find two representatives from Child Protective Services standing there. Behind them, Paul stood silently.

The CPS worker knelt at Ella’s level. “Hi, sweetie. We’re here to take you somewhere safe.”

Ella’s grip on my arm tightened. “Do I have to go?”

“They’ll take good care of you. I promise.”

Her small hand slipped from mine as they gently led her away. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she kept looking back at me, her turkey clutched tightly to her chest.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

***

As the door closed behind the CPS workers, I stood frozen, the emptiness of the apartment settling over me. Ella’s laughter still echoed faintly in my ears, but the warmth of the evening had vanished. I barely registered Paul’s footsteps as he walked up behind me.

“Well,” he said casually, his tone almost cheerful. “Let’s head to my place. We can still have that Thanksgiving dinner we planned.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

I turned to him slowly. “Paul… are you serious?”

My voice wavered, caught somewhere between disbelief and anger. He frowned slightly as if he couldn’t quite grasp what I was upset about.

“What? I know tonight’s been… different, but we can still salvage it. I’ve got everything ready back home.”

“Paul,” I said, my words sharp, “how can you even think about that right now?”

“Is this about earlier? Look, I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have left you two like that. I… I overreacted.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

I stared at him. “You weren’t thinking clearly? Paul, a little girl needed one evening of love, of feeling like someone cared about her!”

He stepped closer, his hands raised in a gesture of appeasement.

“I get it. And I’m sorry. But Lisa, you can’t let this ruin everything. We’re good together as we are. Why complicate things with kids?”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“Paul, this isn’t just about Ella. I’m 36. It’s about the family I’ve dreamed of.”

“Lisa, I love you. Isn’t that enough?”

“Not really. Not in the way I need us to be.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Yes. I am.”

“I guess this is it, then,” Paul muttered, heading for the door.

I didn’t stop him. The life I had imagined with him was nothing more than an illusion.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

***

That night, sleep was impossible. I lay awake, my mind replaying every moment with Ella. By morning, I drove to CPS and explained my intentions. The caseworker warned me of the challenges.

“These processes take time. It won’t be easy.”

“I’ll wait,” I said without hesitation. “However long it takes.”

Weeks passed. Finally, on Christmas Eve, the call came. My approval had been finalized. Ella was coming home.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

When I opened the door to see her standing there, her small face breaking into a smile, the weight of the past months disappeared. She ran into my arms, hugging me tightly.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Welcome home, Ella.”

That night, we decorated a Christmas tree together, stringing lights and hanging ornaments. Ella became my miracle, the heart of every holiday to come, and the family I had dreamed of for so long.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: I thought adopting a child would complete our family, but nothing prepared me for the challenges that followed. Just when everything seemed to fall apart, an unexpected turn changed our lives forever.

This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.

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