The following morning, I woke up earlier than usual, the faint light of dawn slipping through the curtains. For a moment, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, listening to Amy's soft breathing beside me. She was still asleep.
Carefully, I reached for my phone and unlocked it. My heart tightened as I checked my account with almost nothing left.
A hollow feeling settled in my chest. I had taken a loan quietly. Without telling Amy.
The only thing I had used as collateral was the last valuable thing our parents left behind for us before they died. Something I had promised myself I would never risk permanently losing. But I had no choice.
I would pay back the loan and get it back. I had to because Amy would never understand. If she found out, she would think I had lost my mind, probably drag me straight to a therapist, insisting I was breaking down.
But I wasn't. I was just remembering or maybe returning. Because I wasn't chasing something new.
I was chasing someone.
