NEED YOU

I forced myself up and walked back into the bedroom Mitch and I had shared for three years of our marriage.

I hadn’t slept in that bed for over two years now.

Not since I left it.

Every morning, he used to wake me up to complain about my snoring.

I apologized.

Then… I started staying awake longer, trying to fall asleep after him, hoping it would help.

It didn’t.

So I told him I’d move to the guest room.

I thought he’d question it.

Thought he’d tell me to stay.

He didn’t.

“I actually think that’s smart,” he said. “Good thinking.”

That was all.

He hadn’t touched me in a long time anyway.

Not since my body changed.

Not unless I “snapped back,” as he liked to put it.

My phone suddenly rang from the guest room.

Who could be calling at this hour?

I wiped my palms on my sweatpants and walked toward the guest room to answer.

When I finally got there and picked up, the caller’s name sent a wave of anxiety through me.

“Hello?”

“Lena Mitchell?”

My stomach dropped.

“Ye—yes.”

“Mrs. Mitchell, I’m calling regarding the loan you took out a year ago. We’ve sent several notices, but the payment is now sixty-three days past due.”

I closed my eyes, leaning against the doorframe.

Weak and exhausted.

“I—I know. I’m sorry. I’ve been meaning to call.”

“We need to discuss a payment arrangement, Ms. Mitchell. The full balance is $18,400, and if we don’t receive a payment by the end of this week, we’ll have no choice but to escalate the matter.”

Eighteen thousand, four hundred dollars.

The number echoed in my skull, dragging up memories of why I took it in the first place.

The medical bills after the second miscarriage. The fertility specialist a co-worker had recommended. The treatments that were supposed to fix me.

It had all been in vain.

None of it worked.

None of it.

“I understand,” I said, my voice hollow. “I’ll figure something out. Please, just give me a little more time.”

“We need a payment by Friday, Ms. Mitchell. At least five hundred dollars to stop the collections process.”

Friday.

Three days.

I had only forty-seven dollars in my checking account.

“Please… can you give me more time—”

She hung up before I could finish.

The phone felt heavy in my hand as I stared at the screen.

I had taken that risk hoping it would solve everything. That it would give us a chance.

But the treatments failed.

The baby never came.

Instead, I gained weight and sank deeper into myself.

And how could a baby come when Mitch refused to touch me anymore?

Crying wouldn’t pay my debt.

I wiped the tears from my cheeks and sat on the edge of the guest bed, my chest tight with frustration.

How could I ever pay that kind of money back?

I worked nights as a server at a local bar and mornings as a waitress at a nearby café.

Minimum wage. Irregular shifts. Tips that barely covered groceries.

This wasn’t the life I was promised.

This wasn’t the life I dreamed of as a young girl.

I had no one else to turn to except my husband.

And after what happened this morning… he would probably lash out.

But I had no choice.

My thumb hovered over his name.

The heart emoji I’d added years ago still sat beside it—a relic from a time when I believed in us.

I pressed call.

It rang once. Twice. Three times.

“You’ve reached Mitch. Leave a message.”

The beep felt like a knife between my ribs.

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

What was I supposed to say?

In the end, I didn’t have the heart to tell him about the loan.