For months, my neighbor kept borrowing money. What I discovered later rewrote everything I thought I knew.”
When Lena moved into the apartment next to mine, she seemed like anyone trying to rebuild after life had gone wrong. Quiet and polite, she apologized every time she knocked. At first she asked for a little money for groceries before payday, then more when her car broke down and she feared losing her job.
She always promised to repay me. I believed her because she never asked for comfort, only survival. Over time the amounts added up, but I told myself helping someone in trouble was the right thing to do.
Nearly a year passed. The money never came back. There was always another setback—cut hours, doctor visits, emergencies. I began to feel foolish for trusting her.
Then one morning a moving truck arrived. By nightfall she was gone. No goodbye, no explanation. I stood in the hallway, embarrassed more than angry, certain I’d been used.
A week later, a letter from a law firm appeared in my mailbox. Lena had died after a long illness she’d kept private. The attorney said she often spoke of the neighbor who helped her keep her home and continue treatment.
Inside was a certified check for everything she owed—plus extra—and a note thanking me.
My resentment dissolved. Lena hadn’t run away; she had gone home to her family to say goodbye. Since then, I remember: we rarely know the burdens others carry, and kindness still matters.
