Eliza stepped off the bus in Maplewood, a small town she’d chosen for its promise of new beginnings. Fresh out of college, she’d secured an entry-level position at a local publishing firm. She moved here with optimism lighting her heart, eager to build a meaningful career.
She found a modest, century-old house on Sycamore Street, enticed by its charming porch and tall windows. Though the price was surprisingly low, she felt certain it could become her sanctuary. An oak tree shaded the front yard, its branches swaying in a gentle autumn breeze.