The pen felt heavier than it looked.
Suzie stared at it for a long moment, the polished metal catching the light as if it were something harmless. Ordinary. A pen like any other. The kind people used every day without thinking twice.
Yet her hand wouldn't move.
Across the desk, Ray Edwards waited. He didn't rush her. He didn't watch her too closely either. He leaned back slightly in his chair, composed, as though this were already decided—as though the moment itself was nothing more than a formality.
The silence stretched.
Suzie's gaze drifted to the window, to the city spread out below them. Cars moved in neat lines. People walked with purpose, heading somewhere they believed they belonged. Life went on, indifferent to the fact that hers was paused on the edge of a signature.
"You said six months," she said quietly, without looking at him.
"Yes."
"And after that?"
"The contract ends," Ray replied. "Cleanly."
Clean. The word sounded like a lie.
Suzie nodded once, more to herself than to him. Her thoughts flickered uncontrollably—her mother counting money at the kitchen table, Todd pretending not to hear conversations meant to protect him, the house with its peeling paint and stubborn warmth. The only place that had ever felt like theirs.
Refusing meant watching it disappear.
Slowly, she reached for the pen.
Her fingers trembled as she positioned it over the line marked Suzanne Hale. The letters looked distant, unreal. She had signed documents before—school forms, loan papers, things that mattered at the time. None of them had ever asked this much of her.
She hesitated.
This wasn't courage.
This was necessity.
Suzie signed.
The scratch of ink against paper sounded impossibly loud. Final. Irreversible.
When she set the pen down, her hand lingered for half a second longer than necessary, as though part of her still hoped someone would stop her.
No one did.
Ray leaned forward, efficient once more. He gathered the papers, straightened them, and placed them back into the folder.
"It will be handled immediately," he said. "The eviction notice will be withdrawn today. The property transferred into a protected trust by the end of the week."
Her chest tightened.
"So… it's done?" she asked.
"Yes."
That was it. No ceremony. No acknowledgment of what she had just given up. Ray stood, already moving on, already shifting into the next stage of whatever this arrangement was supposed to be.
"My assistant will contact you with further details," he added. "You'll receive instructions regarding the move and public registration."
Move.
Suzie swallowed. "I need to go home first."
Ray paused, just briefly. "Of course."
She turned toward the door, her legs unsteady, her mind numb. She didn't look back. She wasn't sure she could.
The bus ride home felt unreal.
Suzie sat by the window, watching the city blur past, her reflection faintly visible in the glass. She looked the same—same face, same clothes, same tired eyes—but something fundamental had shifted beneath the surface.
She pressed her forehead lightly against the window.
Six months.
That was all she allowed herself to think about. Not what came after. Not what this marriage meant. Just the time. The end date. The promise that it would eventually be over.
When she stepped off the bus, the street felt smaller than she remembered. Familiar. Safe in a way she hadn't felt all day. She walked faster as she neared the house, her heart pounding—not with fear now, but with something dangerously close to excitement.
She pushed the door open.
"Mum?" she called. "Todd?"
Her mother's voice came from the kitchen. "We're here."
Suzie stepped inside, the scent of cooking filling the air. Todd sat at the table, homework spread in front of him, pencil tapping impatiently against the page.
Her mother turned when she saw Suzie's face—and froze.
"What happened?" she asked immediately.
Suzie smiled.
It surprised even her.
"We're not leaving," she said, breathless. "Mum—we're not leaving. They're giving us the house."
For a second, no one moved.
Todd was the first to react. "Wait—what?" He shot to his feet. "Like… for real?"
Suzie laughed, the sound shaky but genuine. "For real."
Todd whooped, abandoning his chair to wrap his arms around her waist. "I knew it! I told you something would work out!"
Her mother didn't move.
She stared at Suzie with a look that wasn't relief—not entirely. Her hands tightened around the dish towel she was holding, knuckles whitening.
"They're just… giving it to us?" she asked slowly.
"Yes," Suzie said quickly. Too quickly. "It's settled. We're safe."
Her mother's eyes searched her face, lingering on the tension in her smile, the strain she hadn't quite managed to hide.
"What did you do, Suzie?" she asked softly.
The room went quiet.
Todd looked between them, confused. "Mum—"
"It's okay," Suzie said, cutting in gently. She knelt in front of him and squeezed his shoulders. "Go finish your homework, yeah? I'll help you after."
Reluctantly, he nodded and retreated, though his curiosity lingered.
When they were alone, her mother stepped closer.
"What did you agree to?" she asked.
Suzie met her gaze. She wanted—desperately—to tell her the truth. To say I signed my life away so you wouldn't have to worry anymore. To say I did something I can't take back.
Instead, she smiled again.
"Don't worry, Mum," she said quietly. "I only did what was best for us."
Her mother studied her for a long moment, then reached out and pulled Suzie into a hug. Tight. Protective. The kind that made Suzie's chest ache.
"Thank you," her mother whispered.
Suzie closed her eyes.
She didn't say you're welcome.
Later that night, Suzie lay awake in her bed, staring at the ceiling crack she knew by heart. The house was quiet. Safe. Still theirs.
Her phone buzzed once on the bedside table.
Unknown Number:
Arrangements will begin tomorrow. Be ready.
No greeting. No warmth.
Suzie turned the phone face down.
Six months, she reminded herself.
Just six months.
Outside, the city hummed softly, unaware of the deal that had been made—of the girl who had traded freedom for shelter, choice for certainty.
Suzie curled onto her side and closed her eyes.
She had saved her family.
Whatever the cost, she would live with it.