It started with a plastic cup.

  Not even full—just a splash of water, poured through a gap in the balcony railing. It hit the concrete below with a satisfying splatter, echoing slightly in the enclosed courtyard. He giggled. His sister glanced around, then handed him another cup.

  And that’s how it began.

  Not malicious. Just curiosity.

  Just fun.

  The two of them crouched behind the flower pots and laundry rack, filling old plastic containers from the bathroom sink. One by one, they sent tiny floods down into the open air, watching the water vanish into the unknown world beneath them.

  But they knew.

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  They *knew* the neighbor lived below.

  He was quiet. Old. Always outside with his little grill, tending to sausages or smoking a cigarette. Sometimes he looked up when they leaned over the balcony. Sometimes he didn’t.

  That day, he definitely did.

  Because after the fourth or fifth splash, a sharp voice echoed upward.

  “*Stop throwing water down here!*”

  They froze.

  Then scrambled back inside, cups clattering, hands wet and cold. He looked at his sister. She was trying not to laugh. He covered his mouth, breath shaking.

  But the silence didn’t last.

  Later that evening, their father came home.

  He wasn’t angry—not at first. Just tired, like usual. But then came the knock at the door. And the voice behind it.

  The neighbor.

  Their father listened with a tight-lipped nod, arms crossed. When the door finally closed again, he turned slowly toward them. They were both standing near the hallway, trying to look innocent.

  “You were throwing water off the balcony?”

  Neither of them answered.

  He sighed. Long. Deep.

  “Don’t do that again,” he said firmly, but not loud. “He’s got his grill down there. You could ruin something.”

  They nodded in unison, heads down.

  The lecture didn’t last long. Their father didn’t yell. He didn’t need to. Disappointment settled like dust in the room. But as soon as he walked away, his sister turned to him and whispered:

  “Next time we use juice.”

  He stared at her in horror—and then they both burst into silent laughter.

  Even when they got in trouble, even when the grown-ups didn’t understand their quiet games or their shared glances, they still had each other.

  And that was enough.