Bella's POV
My phone buzzed against the marble countertop, the sound echoing through my quiet kitchen. When I glanced at the screen, my stomach dropped. The familiar number from the loan company stared back at me, and I felt that old familiar dread creeping up my spine.
These monthly reminders had become as regular as clockwork. Every few weeks, they'd send their polite but firm messages about my outstanding balance. I'd grown used to the routine of anxiety that followed each notification.
I kept chopping vegetables, trying to ignore the device. Maybe if I didn't look, the message would disappear. But then it buzzed again. My knife stilled mid-chop. They never sent two messages in a row.
Wiping my hands on the dish towel, I reluctantly picked up the phone. The words on the screen made no sense.
Dear Valued Customer, thank you for your commitment to resolving your outstanding loan of five thousand dollars.
