Yet, a small unease clung to my thoughts as I lay there, listening for another growl.
Our days were a constant swirl of baby care, work schedules, and the everyday grind of keeping the house running.
I spent most of my time juggling shifts between my job at the local warehouse and being available for my wife and newborn.
Mornings started with feeding the baby, preparing meals, and a quick tidy-up before heading to work.
Evenings meant baby baths, late-night feedings, and walking the dog around the block to tire him out.
Sleep was scarce, tension sometimes palpable, but life moved forward with the usual demands pressing in.
There was an unspoken pressure around here, too.
The landlord had been quiet but strict ever since we moved in, rarely fixing anything promptly and always hinting at possible rent increases.
When I mentioned our concerns about odd noises in the house, he brushed them aside without a second thought, implying that these old houses had their quirks and that we should just get used to it.
It felt like he held all the cards—authority over our home and no real interest in our comfort or safety.
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