Two Hearts

The Breaking Point

Laura's POV

Although only two days had passed since the call from the debt collection agency, it felt like an eternity.

Every morning I woke up with my heart racing.

Every night I went to bed with a pounding headache.

And every hour in between was spent searching for a solution.

A miracle.

Anything.

During lunch breaks at work, I scrolled through job listings instead of eating.

Part-time jobs.

Evening shifts.

Weekend work.

Anything that could bring in extra money.

I sent out application after application.

Cleaning jobs.

Retail positions.

Administrative work.

The chances of getting hired were slim. Most employers wanted previous experience, even for positions that seemed straightforward.

Apparently, spending years cleaning your own home and raising children didn't count as experience.

Who knew?

The weekend arrived far too quickly.

Chris was working, which left me alone with the children and my thoughts.

Mostly my thoughts.

The deadline was getting closer.

Every hour felt heavier than the last.

Desperate, I started calling friends.

I didn't explain everything.

I simply asked whether they could lend me some money.

The reactions were almost identical.

Surprise.

Confusion.

Questions.

Lots of questions.

I dodged them all.

But the answer was always the same.

No.

One friend had just purchased an apartment.

Another had booked an expensive vacation.

Someone else was dealing with unexpected expenses.

Everyone had a reason.

An excuse.

Maybe they were telling the truth.

Maybe they weren't.

Either way, the result was the same.

Nobody could help.

Or nobody wanted to.

The realization hurt more than I expected.

Not because they owed me anything.

They didn't.

But because I had spent years helping everyone around me whenever I could.

And now, when I needed help for the first time in my life...

There was nobody.

My mother wasn't an option.

She was retired, yet still worked part-time just to make ends meet.

After my father's death, she'd carried enough burdens for several lifetimes.

I couldn't add mine to the pile.

So I kept smiling.

Pretending.

Just like always.

Then, while desperately searching online for solutions, I stumbled across a debt restructuring company.

The website looked legitimate.

Fast approval.

Bad credit accepted.

Low interest rates.

Under normal circumstances, I would have researched everything carefully.

But desperation changes people.

I submitted an application immediately.

It felt like grabbing onto a piece of driftwood in the middle of a storm.

Anything was better than drowning.

Monday came.

Then Tuesday.

Still nothing.

No responses from employers.

No approval from the restructuring company.

Nothing.

Meanwhile, the deadline continued to creep closer.

I understood exactly what would happen next.

First, the court.

Then enforcement officers.

Then frozen accounts.

Salary deductions.

A life I could no longer control.

And through all of it, one memory kept returning.

Eric Carter.

His offer.

His impossible offer.

You think I hadn't thought about it?

I had.

Every single day.

Every time another door closed in my face.

Every time another solution disappeared.

His words came back.

"Four months."

"Name your price."

And every single time, I pushed the thought away.

It was ridiculous.

Humiliating.

Nobody should have to agree to something like that.

I wasn't for sale.

At least, that's what I kept telling myself.

Then there was Chris.

What would I even do?

Divorce him?

The idea felt absurd.

I loved him.

Didn't I?

The question haunted me.

Because the longer I thought about it, the less certain I became.

We still had intimacy.

We still had children.

We still shared a home.

But somewhere along the way, something had broken.

Something important.

Something neither of us seemed willing to fix.

I looked at my children and felt my heart ache.

Elijah was twelve now.

Old enough to understand more than she should.

Marcus was eight.

Still young, yet not blind.

Neither of them deserved this life.

Neither deserved to watch their father slowly disappear into alcohol.

Yet despite everything, Chris wasn't a bad man.

That was the worst part.

He wasn't cruel.

He wasn't abusive.

He simply stopped trying.

And perhaps I had stopped trying too.

We had become two people moving through the same house, living separate lives.

The latest example had come just days ago.

While I was desperately trying to save our family from financial disaster, Chris had spent his last available money on expensive headphones.

Headphones.

I remembered staring at the purchase receipt, feeling something inside me c***k.

Because now I would once again be responsible for everything.

The groceries.

The bills.

And yes...

His beer.

The thought made me laugh bitterly.

Imagine telling him the truth.

"Chris, I'm going to spend four months pretending to be another man's wife."

"But don't worry, it's only for money."

"And we won't sleep together."

The absurdity of it was almost funny.

Almost.

Any normal husband would lose his mind.

And yet, somehow, I wasn't even sure what Chris's reaction would be anymore.

That realization frightened me more than anything else.

I was trapped.

And every hour tightened the walls around me.

Wednesday morning.

Exactly seven days.

The moment I stepped onto the bus, my phone vibrated.

A text message.

Good morning. Today is your payment deadline. Please transfer the required amount using the details below. Have a wonderful day.

A wonderful day?

I almost laughed.

What was wonderful about any of this?

The night before, the final responses had arrived.

Every employer had rejected me.

The restructuring company had rejected me.

Everyone had rejected me.

Then, just to make things worse, another creditor called.

Another overdue account.

Another seven-day warning.

Another threat of legal action.

That was the moment I finally accepted reality.

I was out of options.

Completely.

Pride.

Self-respect.

Stubbornness.

None of those things could pay my debts.

That evening, while searching through my purse for lip balm, my fingers brushed against something unexpected.

Something I had forgotten.

Something I had tried very hard not to think about.

A business card.

I froze.

Slowly, I pulled it out.

Eric Carter

The elegant gold lettering seemed almost impossible to ignore.

Maybe it was a coincidence.

Or maybe fate simply had a twisted sense of humor.

For a long moment, I stared at the card.

Then I took out my phone.

My hands trembled as I entered the number.

One digit.

Then another.

And another.

Finally, the entire number appeared on the screen.

All I had to do was press Call.

One tap.

One decision.

One choice that could change everything.

My thumb hovered above the button.

But no matter how hard I tried...

I couldn't make myself press it.