Serena Dai

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I was a walking pile of red flags when I started dating my now-husband—and I made sure to point out each and every one to him. I’d just gotten out of a long-term relationship, and my ex was still sleeping on my couch. I’d cheated before, on the ex, years ago.

It started as a friendship of convenience. Kira and Nino, a husband and wife, had lived in the same building as my husband and me for years. We interacted occasionally, as congenial acquaintances do. Then the pandemic hit, and well, you know: We had time; we had proximity. We exchanged food and drinks and books and laughs, and one day I looked up and we were all honest-to-God genuine friends, the kind who water each other’s plants and know each other’s Sichuan-takeout requests.