My Landlord's Milky Trap - Chapter 5: Chapter 5
You are reading My Landlord's Milky Trap, Chapter 5: Chapter 5. Read more chapters of My Landlord's Milky Trap.
The twelve-year gap between Noah and me was the least of our problems—his fragile mental state made everything more complicated. I knew I should cut this off before things spiraled out of control.
His neediness was overwhelming. He followed me like a shadow, lingering by the door every morning as I left for work, his eyes wide and hopeful. The second I walked back in, he'd latch onto me like some abandoned stray, terrified I might disappear.
But after that night, something shifted. He wasn't just blindly dependent anymore—he started pitching in. Sweeping floors, handing me tea when I looked dead on my feet, even attempting awkward sweet talk.
Still, no matter how much he pretended to change, his endgame was the same—getting closer to me. His obsession with playing nurse never faded, and he'd flat-out refuse to leave my apartment at night.
I'd kicked him out more times than I could count, only for him to throw full-blown tantrums in the hallway. "Auntie! No milk! I want milk!" His midnight wailing drew stares and whispers from the neighbors. When Margaret worked nights, I had no choice but to let him back in.
Desperate for an out, I scoured rental listings—only to wince at the prices. Most places ran around $1,500, and my factory paycheck barely scraped $3,000 a month. Moving would leave me broke after bills. At least here, Margaret only charged me $500, letting me barely survive while stashing a little away.
After weighing my options, I decided to stay—but keep Noah at arm's length.
Life, of course, had other plans. One evening, Margaret cornered me, her grip tight with urgency. "Evelyn, something came up back home. I need to leave for a few days. Could you… watch Noah for me?"
My stomach twisted. Agreeing meant diving right back into the mess I'd been trying to escape.
"Can't you take him with you?" I hedged, searching her face for any wiggle room.
She shook her head, exhaustion flickering in her eyes. "It's complicated." With a sigh, she pulled out a thick stack of cash and pressed it into my palm. "For expenses. If it's not enough, just say so. Keep whatever's left."
The wad—at least six or seven grand—made my resolve crumble. That kind of money could fix so much. I could finally breathe.
I took a deep breath and met her gaze. "Fine. I'll handle him."
As I made up Noah's bed, I leveled a warning at him. "Behave. One slip-up, and I'm done."
He hovered by the door, eyes watery with fear, silently begging, Don't leave me.
Maybe the threat worked—Noah turned unnervingly docile. He stayed quiet, glued to the TV all day.
Then came the real shocker: he learned to warm milk. Every night before bed, he'd bring me a steaming cup, handling it like fragile treasure.
The routine worked like magic. I slept deeper than I had in years, crashing the second my head hit the pillow.
It had been so long since anyone showed me even a shred of kindness. Slowly, my guard slipped. What harm could a simple-minded kid do? All he wanted was a little comfort.
His neediness was overwhelming. He followed me like a shadow, lingering by the door every morning as I left for work, his eyes wide and hopeful. The second I walked back in, he'd latch onto me like some abandoned stray, terrified I might disappear.
But after that night, something shifted. He wasn't just blindly dependent anymore—he started pitching in. Sweeping floors, handing me tea when I looked dead on my feet, even attempting awkward sweet talk.
Still, no matter how much he pretended to change, his endgame was the same—getting closer to me. His obsession with playing nurse never faded, and he'd flat-out refuse to leave my apartment at night.
I'd kicked him out more times than I could count, only for him to throw full-blown tantrums in the hallway. "Auntie! No milk! I want milk!" His midnight wailing drew stares and whispers from the neighbors. When Margaret worked nights, I had no choice but to let him back in.
Desperate for an out, I scoured rental listings—only to wince at the prices. Most places ran around $1,500, and my factory paycheck barely scraped $3,000 a month. Moving would leave me broke after bills. At least here, Margaret only charged me $500, letting me barely survive while stashing a little away.
After weighing my options, I decided to stay—but keep Noah at arm's length.
Life, of course, had other plans. One evening, Margaret cornered me, her grip tight with urgency. "Evelyn, something came up back home. I need to leave for a few days. Could you… watch Noah for me?"
My stomach twisted. Agreeing meant diving right back into the mess I'd been trying to escape.
"Can't you take him with you?" I hedged, searching her face for any wiggle room.
She shook her head, exhaustion flickering in her eyes. "It's complicated." With a sigh, she pulled out a thick stack of cash and pressed it into my palm. "For expenses. If it's not enough, just say so. Keep whatever's left."
The wad—at least six or seven grand—made my resolve crumble. That kind of money could fix so much. I could finally breathe.
I took a deep breath and met her gaze. "Fine. I'll handle him."
As I made up Noah's bed, I leveled a warning at him. "Behave. One slip-up, and I'm done."
He hovered by the door, eyes watery with fear, silently begging, Don't leave me.
Maybe the threat worked—Noah turned unnervingly docile. He stayed quiet, glued to the TV all day.
Then came the real shocker: he learned to warm milk. Every night before bed, he'd bring me a steaming cup, handling it like fragile treasure.
The routine worked like magic. I slept deeper than I had in years, crashing the second my head hit the pillow.
It had been so long since anyone showed me even a shred of kindness. Slowly, my guard slipped. What harm could a simple-minded kid do? All he wanted was a little comfort.
End of My Landlord's Milky Trap Chapter 5. Continue reading Chapter 6 or return to My Landlord's Milky Trap book page.