“Being the ideal neighbor”—that was Julia’s ultimate aspiration. She longed to set an example for other women in the neighborhood. So when her mother rolled up the driveway on a Harley-Davidson, Julia’s expression was priceless. She was mortified—so much so that she almost asked her mother to leave. But something held her back: the truth.
The morning sun bathed Julia’s yard in golden light as she crouched beside her rose bushes, hands sheathed in gardening gloves, carefully pressing soil around their base.
The gentle fragrance of the blooms mixed with the crisp morning air, offering a momentary escape from the stress she’d been carrying.
This was her refuge—her one corner of the world that still felt within her control.
And then came the voice she’d been hoping to avoid.
“Out and about already, Julia? Tending the garden at sunrise? How impressive,” called Nancy, her sugary tone barely disguising the usual edge of condescension.
Julia looked up, forcing a cordial smile.
There stood Nancy, dressed in a flawless floral outfit with not a hair out of place, like she’d stepped out of a glossy home magazine rather than the real world.
“Good morning, Nancy,” Julia responded evenly, though her jaw tightened.
“I try to stay on top of it. My yard doesn’t always look quite as pristine as yours, of course.”
Nancy’s smile turned slightly sharper.
“Oh, don’t be too hard on yourself. We all have our own standards. Yours are just… a little different.”
