I woke up with a crick in my neck, one flip-flop missing, and a half-squashed slice of bread stuck to my cheek.
"Ugh… why does my floor taste like sadness and mold?"
The events of last night came rushing back like a bad curry. I chased Mrs. Luna like a budget horror movie villain, she face-planted, screamed "stalker," and the neighborhood almost reenacted Witch Hunt: MILF Edition. I barely made it back without getting whacked by someone's slipper.
And then, the glowing menace returned.
[Daily Quest Unlocked!]
[Quest Title: Damage Control for Dummies]
[Objective: Apologize to Mrs. Luna like a normal human being.]
[Reward: +1 Affection (if you don't screw it up).]
I groaned, rolling over to the other side of the room, which was a solid three feet away. "You want me to go back? After I nearly caused a MILF stampede?"
The system didn't respond, but it did open a new window.
[Recommended Method: Write a sincere apology letter. Slide it under her door. DO NOT FOLLOW HER. DO NOT TALK TO HER. DO NOT BREATHE NEAR HER.]
"…Okay, that's oddly specific."
I sat down at the wobbly table, pulled out a greasy old notepad I used for shopping lists, and tried to write the least stalker-ish apology in the history of mankind.
___
Dear Mrs. Luna,
I swear I'm not a creep. Or a stalker. Or whatever last night looked like. I promise I wasn't following you to do anything weird—I was just… really bad at existing in public.
I panicked. I stepped on a twig. You screamed. I ran. Then you fell. And everything got worse faster than my GPA in high school.
I didn't mean to scare you. I didn't mean to make a scene. Honestly, I just wanted to say hi, maybe apologize for looking like a wet sock, and then leave without getting yelled at. But my brain did a backflip and forgot how to function.
Sorry about the groceries. And your ankle. And the trash can. And, well… everything.
I'll stay far, far away from now on. No more awkward encounters. No more ninja-flip-flop-stalking. Pinky swear.
Sincerely,
The Not-a-Stalker Guy
P.S. If it helps, I also got hurt. Emotionally. And physically. I lost a sandal and my dignity.
—
I looked at the letter, reread it once, then cringed so hard my soul tried to crawl out of my body. "Yep… that's the best I got."
I folded it up, shoved it in an envelope (which I totally borrowed from an old electric bill), and headed out like a broke-ass secret agent.
My heart was pounding the whole way to her building. I took the stairs two at a time, praying I wouldn't bump into her or her angry frying-pan-wielding neighbors again.
Once I reached Apartment 12B, I crouched down like a raccoon, slid the letter under the door, and whispered, "Forgive me, MILF-sama."
Then I bolted.
Didn't wait for footsteps. Didn't wait for yelling. Just turned tail and ran all the way back like I had Satan himself on my heels.
Back home, I collapsed onto the floor again, out of breath.
The system dinged.
[Mission Status: Pending Review.] [Affection: +1]
I lay on the floor, staring at the ceiling, just letting the weight of my choices hit me like a ton of bricks. I had done it. I had actually apologized in the most awkward way possible. And now… all I could do was wait.
But of course, the system wasn't going to make it easy.
[New Objective: Wait for a response. Don't screw this up.]
"Seriously?" I muttered. "You couldn't even let me have one second of peace?"
I grabbed my half-squashed slice of bread from my cheek (ugh, it was soggy now) and took a bite, because apparently, that's the kind of person I was now: the guy who eats stale bread after writing apology letters to MILFs.
I stared at the glowing screen, waiting for some kind of miracle, something to tell me that Mrs. Luna would somehow forgive me for my level of idiocy. But nope. No magic here.
The minutes dragged on like the world had slowed down just to torture me. I tried to distract myself by scrolling through my phone—nothing but garbage. Memes, cat videos, pointless drama. The usual.
And then, a few minutes later, the system chimed in again.
[Mission Status: Still Pending.]
Well, that was a great update. Just what I needed. Another reminder that my life was in limbo.
Then it happened.
I heard a soft knock at my door.
My heart skipped a beat.
Could it be? Could it actually be Mrs. Luna, coming to yell at me or maybe—please, please, please—just slap me with a frying pan and get it over with?
I stood up slowly, cautiously, as if I were walking toward my doom. I peeked through the peephole.
There she was. Mrs. Luna, standing outside my door, holding a grocery bag.
She wasn't running. She wasn't screaming. She didn't even look mad.
She looked… tired.
I swallowed hard. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was where my fate would either be sealed or… well, something else equally dramatic and catastrophic.
I opened the door just enough to poke my head out, looking like a deer caught in the headlights of an 18-wheeler.
"Uh… hey," I managed, trying not to sound like a total creep. "Uh, Mrs. Luna, right?"
She glanced at me, then at the letter in my hand, which I had absolutely not been prepared to handle just yet.
"I… uh… got your letter," she said, her voice calm, but there was still that trace of caution. "I think… we should talk."
And in that moment, I realized: the world wasn't over yet.
Maybe, just maybe, there was hope for me.
But only if I didn't screw this up.
The system pinged again.
[Affection: +1]
[Mission Status: Ongoing.]
[Recommended Action: Stay calm. Don't make it weird.]
Well, guess I should've listened to that last part sooner.