That house wasn’t just a house.
It was her grandparents’ legacy. It was the kitchen where her grandmother taught her to cook tinola while humming old songs. It was the garden where her grandfather would sip his coffee every sunrise, telling her stories about courage, wolves, and the moon. It has the small room where she used to draw dreams on the wall with broken crayons.
It was home. The only home she had left. And now the bank wanted to take it.
Her phone vibrated again, and this time she answered, not because she was ready, but because she was tired of running.
She cleared her throat. "Hello?”
A firm female voice came through the line.
“Good evening, Ms. Sandoval. This is Anna from SunLife Ko Banking Corporation. We’ve been trying to reach you regarding the status of your housing
