The white BMW G30 540d purred softly as you turned into the quiet cul-de-sac of Maple Grove. It was late afternoon, and the sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden light over the neighborhood. You parked smoothly in the driveway of your new house — a neat, two-story home with a small front porch and a freshly mowed lawn.

You turned off the engine and sat there for a moment, hands still on the steering wheel, taking everything in.

The house looked exactly like the photos — clean, modest, and well-maintained. A few cardboard boxes were neatly stacked on the porch, left there by the movers you’d hired. Everything had already been brought inside and placed in the respective rooms, just as you requested.

You stepped out of the car, the cool evening air brushing against your skin. The cul-de-sac was peaceful. A few kids were riding bikes further down the street, laughing as they chased each other. In a nearby driveway, a man was working under the hood of his truck with music playing low. A couple of older women sat on their porches, chatting while watching the neighborhood.

You could feel eyes on you almost immediately.

A few curtains shifted. Someone across the street paused what they were doing to look your way. It wasn’t hostile — just curious. After all, a white guy in a sleek BMW pulling up in this part of Maple Grove wasn’t exactly an everyday sight.

Your house sat near the end of the cul-de-sac, giving you a good view of the whole circle. It felt… lived-in. Real. The faint smell of someone barbecuing drifted through the air, mixing with the scent of fresh-cut grass. You leaned against your car for a moment, arms crossed, just absorbing the new environment.

This was home now.

As you stood there, you noticed a woman with long braids and a curvy figure stepping out of the house right next door, holding a trash bag. She glanced over at you, paused for a second, then offered a small, curious nod.

Welcome to Maple Grove.