The next week, Haddad made good on his word.
A crew of workers showed up on Monday morning. Three men in grey jumpsuits. They carried toolboxes and ladders. They didn't introduce themselves.
Mr. Chen met them in the lobby. "You're here to fix the violations?"
"Boss said fix the boiler first," one of the men said.
Mr. Chen led them to the basement. Maya followed.
The boiler was old. Rusted. The pressure gauge was broken. The pipes were wrapped in duct tape.
The workers looked at it. One of them shook his head.
"This needs replacement," he said.
"We know," Mr. Chen said. "But the landlord won't pay for a new one."
"Then we patch it. It'll hold for a few months. Maybe."
They worked all day. The basement smelled of oil and sweat. Maya brought them coffee from the bodega. They drank it without thanking her.
By the end of the day, the boiler was patched. The pressure gauge was replaced. The pipes had new tape.
"It's not perfect," the lead worker said. "But it's better."
Maya turned on the heat in her apartment. The radiator hissed. Then it clicked. Then warm air came out.
She stood in front of it, letting the heat wash over her.
Leo came in. "It's working?"
"It's working."
"Small win."
"Small win."
---
The next day, the workers fixed the windows.
They replaced the cracked glass in Mr. Delgado's apartment. They fixed the seal on Maya's window. They installed a new lock on the front door.
The Kims got new tile in their bathroom. Jasmine got a new showerhead. Marco got a new faucet.
By Friday, all twelve violations had been addressed. Not perfectly. Not permanently. But enough to satisfy the city inspector.
Agent Reeves returned on Monday. She walked through the building. She took photos. She wrote notes.
When she finished, she stood in the lobby.
"The repairs are acceptable," she said. "The building is now in compliance."
Maya exhaled. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me. Thank the tenants." Agent Reeves handed her a copy of the report. "Keep this. If the landlord tries to raise the rent, you have documentation."
She left.
Maya looked at the report. Twelve violations. Twelve fixes. It wasn't a victory. But it wasn't a loss.
---
That night, she went to the roof.
The garden was dying. The tomatoes had stopped ripening. The basil was turning brown. The summer was ending.
She sat on the milk crate and looked at the painting. Leo's painting. Her face. The garden. The water tank. The painted eye. The small figure in the window.
She heard footsteps behind her.
Leo sat next to her. "The garden is dying."
"Everything dies."
"That's morbid."
"That's honest."
He took her hand. "We can plant new things in the spring."
"If we're still here."
"We'll be here."
She looked at him. "How do you know?"
"Because I'm not leaving. And you're not leaving. And the building is still standing." He squeezed her fingers. "That's enough for now."
She leaned her head on his shoulder. The sky was dark. The city lights flickered.
"Leo."
"Yeah."
"I love you."
He was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, "I love you too."
They sat like that until the stars came out.
---
The next morning, Maya went to the facility.
Mrs. Patterson was in the common room. The game show was on. The volume was low.
"The repairs are done," Maya said. "The building is in compliance."
Mrs. Patterson nodded. "For now."
"For now."
The old woman looked at her. "You look different."
"I feel different."
"Why?"
Maya sat next to her. "I told Leo I love him."
Mrs. Patterson smiled. It was a real smile. Wide. Warm.
"About time," she said.
"You knew?"
"I'm old. I'm not blind." She took Maya's hand. "Are you happy?"
"Yes."
"Good. That's all I ever wanted for you."
Maya leaned her head on Mrs. Patterson's shoulder. The old woman's shoulder was bony. It smelled like lavender soap.
"I'm going to miss you," Maya said.
"I'm not dead yet."
"I know. But you're not in the building."
"Maybe not. But I'm in your heart. That's more important."
Maya closed her eyes. The game show played. The clock ticked.
---
She stayed for two hours.
When she left, the sun was high. The sky was blue. A few clouds drifted overhead.
She walked to the subway. The train was crowded. She stood holding a pole.
Her phone buzzed.
Leo: The garden needs water. I already did it.
She smiled. Thank you.
You're welcome.
I'll be home soon.
It's not home without you.
She stared at the screen. Her heart beat faster.
That's cheesy, she typed.
I know. But it's true.
She put her phone away. The train rattled. The tunnels flashed past.
At her stop, she climbed to the street. The bodega's awning flapped in the wind. The newspaper stand was open. The headline was about a fire somewhere in Queens.
She walked to her building. Mr. Chen was in the lobby, sweeping the floor.
"Leo is on the roof," he said. "He's been there all morning."
Maya climbed the stairs. The new lightbulbs were bright. The steps were clean.
The roof door was open.
Leo was standing by the easel. He was painting. Adding more details to the canvas.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Fixing the bridge cables. They were wrong."
She walked to the painting. The bridge was in the background now. The cables were steeper. Five degrees. Maybe six.
"It's perfect," she said.
"It's not perfect. Nothing is."
"It's perfect enough."
He set down his brush. He turned to her.
"Welcome home," he said.
She kissed him. The city hummed below. The water tank hummed. The garden rustled in the wind.
---
That afternoon, she went to see Mrs. Patterson again.
The old woman was in her room. The window was open. The brick wall was still there.
"I brought you something," Maya said.
She pulled out a small drawing. A sketch of Mrs. Patterson's apartment. The kitchen table. The folding chairs. The game show on the television.
Mrs. Patterson looked at the drawing for a long time.
"You remembered," she said.
"I remembered everything."
The old woman's eyes were wet. She didn't cry. She just held the drawing.
"Thank you," she said.
"Thank you for everything."
They sat together. The clock ticked. The brick wall stood.
---
When Maya left, the sun was setting.
She walked to the subway. The train was empty. She sat by the window.
Her phone buzzed.
Leo: Dinner? I made pasta. It's not good.
She smiled. I don't care.
Then come to the sixth floor.
I'm on my way.
The train rattled. The tunnels flashed past.
She got off at her stop. She climbed to the street. The bodega's lights were on. The newspaper stand was closed.
She walked to her building. She climbed the stairs. The sixth floor.
The door was open.
Leo stood in the kitchen, stirring a pot. The pasta was overcooked. The sauce was from a jar.
"It's not good," he said again.
"I don't care."
She sat on the floor. He brought her a bowl. The pasta was mushy. The sauce was cold.
She ate it anyway.
"This is terrible," she said.
"I told you."
"I love it."
He sat next to her. They ate in silence. The city hummed below.
After dinner, they went to the roof.
The garden was dark. The tomatoes were gone. The basil was brown. The summer was over.
"We should clean this up," Maya said.
"In the spring."
"In the spring."
They stood by the water tank. The painted eye stared at them.
"Leo."
"Yeah."
"Thank you for staying."
"Thank you for finding me."
They kissed. The wind blew. The city hummed.