Sophia's POV
Maybe I was wrong. He never came back to the bar, not once. For days, I kept looking to see if he'd stop by. I expected him to walk in with that same irritating look on his face, to buy a drink, maybe even try again to see if I'd changed my mind—but I never saw him again.
Maybe he was too embarrassed to show up. I hoped he realized what he did was wrong. Or maybe he found someone else who agreed to sleep with him for money. Whatever the reason, I didn't care. I had other problems—bigger ones.
Two months had passed since my landlord handed me the eviction notice, two months since he told me the house was being sold. I had three months to pack up and leave my apartment. Now, I had just one month left.
I was worried at first, but after working so hard, it finally hit me: I needed to take the loan. I had thought about it earlier, but I kept hoping for a miracle. Like someone would call and say, "Don't worry, Sophia. I'll take care of the bills for you." I sighed heavily.
Since none of that was going to happen, I finally decided to take the loan because I was running out of time.
I picked up my phone and opened my bank app. I stared at the loan options for several minutes. There was information about how their loan system worked, so I took time to study it.
It wasn't difficult. I had to go to the bank with some documents: a valid means of identification, my account statement, and a few others.
The next morning, I woke up early and headed straight to the bank. I couldn't say I slept well the night before—I had a slight headache from worrying all night.
I got to the bank at 9 a.m. The hall was quiet, except for the humming of the AC. I looked around for a few seconds before walking to the section labeled CUSTOMER SERVICE. I sat down in front of a woman who looked busy working on her computer.
She looked up briefly and smiled as I sat down. "Good morning, ma'am. How can we help you?"
"Good morning. Please, I want to apply for a loan," I replied, trying to return her smile.
"What is the purpose of the loan, and how much loan are we looking at exactly?" she asked, narrowing her brows, her voice still friendly.
"I'm looking to buy a one-bedroom flat. So, we're looking at €150,000." Saying the number out loud made me nervous.
"I've been saving, but I need a loan to complete the purchase," I added. My voice stayed calm, though my hands were shaking.
She nodded, giving me confidence. "Where in Italy?" she asked.
"Yes, somewhere peaceful. Maybe outside Florence or any small town in Tuscany. I just want somewhere quiet." I smiled softly.
She smiled again, this time more warmly. "I understand. I'll have to refer you to the loan department. You can finish up from there." She stood and pointed me in the right direction.
"Okay, thank you so much," I said as I left her desk.
When I arrived at the loan department, another pretty lady attended to me. I repeated everything I had said earlier.
I filled out and signed some forms, answered a few personal questions, and submitted the documents I brought.
She uploaded everything, and in less than an hour, I was done.
"We'll contact you in about ten days," she said, leaning forward with a smile. "You'll get a message from us. If it's approved, the money will be credited straight to your account."
"If it is approved? Dear Lord, it has to be approved," I whispered.
I thanked her and left the bank.
The waiting days were long. Every time my phone buzzed, I thought it was the bank—but it never was.
Then, twelve days later, I got the message:
"Dear Ms. Bennett, your loan has been approved and credited to your account. Thank you for banking with us."
I stared at the screen for a long time, letting the words sink in. I couldn't believe it. I had to check my account balance, and there it was—€150,000, sitting there like a promise finally fulfilled
"I'm buying a house!" I laughed out loud until tears filled my eyes.
"I think I should call Suzzie, so she can start searching for good houses for me," I said, dialing her number.
Suzzie had been my friend for a long time, and she was into selling and leasing properties. I had already told her about the plan to buy a house back when my dad was still alive.
I wanted to buy this house through her because I knew I'd be doing her a favor. The commission she mentioned was good money, and we were friends, so why not?
She had called once after I lost my dad to confirm if I still planned to buy the house. "Yes, of course. I'll let you know when I have enough money. I'm still trying to put my life together," I had told her. And it was true.
She was even the one who got my mind fixed on the loan option when I was struggling to come up with the full amount—and now, it was done!
Suzzie picked up almost immediately. "Hey girl," she said, cheerful as always.
"Hey," I replied casually. "You got a minute?"
"Why not? What's going on?"
"I got the loan," I said, trying to hold back my excitement.
"You what?" she asked again, as though she hadn't heard right.
"I got the loan," I repeated, nodding and smiling.
She paused, then let out a long whistle. "Wow. That's great news."
"I had to make up my mind. I've only got a month left, Suzzie. I couldn't afford to wait anymore."
"I get it," she said. "It's a smart move, honestly. Now you can finally get a place to call your own."
"Yeah," I said, watching my feet as I paced in my room.
"Okay," she continued, her tone shifting to business. "I'll take you to see some properties that are available right now."
"Yes, please. I won't be working tomorrow morning. Will that work for you?" I asked sweetly.
"That's perfect," she said. "I've got a few listings I've been eyeing for you. I think you'll love them."
"Aww, thank you so much, Suzzie." The thought made me smile. Suzzie always had that effect—making things feel easier. She had always been soft-spoken. We'd been friends since college. She knew everything I'd been through.
"I'll send you some pictures tonight. Let's find you a home, girl!" she said excitedly.
I laughed. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet," she teased. "Wait till we find the one."
We hung up, and for the first time in weeks, I felt like I could breathe again. I was finally relieved.
Later that night, I received the first set of listings. My inbox chimed while I was folding laundry. I dropped the shirt in my hand and opened the message immediately.
There were five houses. All were beautiful, in decent neighborhoods. And they were within my budget—I wasn't ready to ask for another loan.
I clicked through the pictures slowly, taking in every detail. One of them caught my attention more than the rest. A small one-bedroom flat with ivy crawling up the porch and a little backyard garden.
"Hmmm, this is beautiful," I whispered, a spark of excitement lighting up inside me.
I texted Suzzie immediately:
I like the second one. I'd love to see it first.
She replied instantly with a smiling emoji, then:
I've already booked for us to see it tomorrow. You're gonna love it even more in person.
I smiled. Maybe this was it. Everything was finally turning around.
I could barely sleep that night. I thought about every detail of the house. What color should the living room be? My bedroom wall had to be white. Curtains dropping from ceiling to floor. Maybe a little bookshelf in the hallway.
I thought about my dad. He would've gone for something bigger, but he'd know I tried my best to make this happen.
I distracted myself with the pictures again, refusing to let sadness win.
At least our dream was finally within reach.