Chapter 18 - Sixty Days
Sixty days.
Tasha wrote the number on a sticky note.
Then she crossed out one day each morning.
Not because she wanted the marriage to end exactly when the lease did.
Because uncertainty needed a boundary.
Malcolm began night shifts at six and returned after two in the morning.
Tasha worked days.
For the first time since his unemployment, they barely saw each other.
The apartment became quiet.
Clean.
Almost peaceful.
That frightened Tasha more than fighting.
Peace could masquerade as healing.
One Saturday, Malcolm made breakfast.
“Can we talk?”
Tasha sat cautiously.
“About what?”
“The lease.”
“Okay.”
“I can move in with a coworker after it ends.”
Her eyes lifted.
“You already asked?”
“Yes.”
“You’re assuming we’re separating.”
Malcolm stared at his coffee.
“I’m assuming you need the option without me making you fight for it.”
Tasha looked at him for a long time.
“That’s different.”
“I’m trying.”
“I know.”
He nodded.
“Do you know what you’re doing?”
Malcolm looked confused.
“You’re finally giving me choices.”
His eyes filled.
“I should have done that from the beginning.”
“Yes.”
They ate in silence.
Later Kendra arrived carrying boxes.
She and Tasha packed books.
At one point Kendra held up the framed wall sign that had hung near the television.
Same People. Same Dreams. Bigger Plans.
She snorted.
“Want this?”
Tasha stared at it.
Malcolm had bought it during their first year of marriage.
They had laughed while hanging it crooked.
She remembered believing bigger plans automatically meant better life.
“No.”
Kendra placed it in Malcolm’s pile.
“You okay?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Tasha frowned.
Kendra smiled gently.
“I’d worry if you were.”
They packed another box.
Then Kendra became serious.
“I owe you an apology that isn’t about Malcolm.”
Tasha looked at her.
“I’ve already apologized for the money.”
“I know.”
“But I realized why I didn’t tell you.”
Tasha waited.
Kendra sat on the floor.
“Your mother used to say you were too hard on yourself.”
Tasha’s face softened.
Her mother had died six years earlier.
“Kendra—”
“Listen.”
Tasha nodded.
“When Malcolm asked me for money, I told myself I was protecting you from more stress.”
Kendra looked ashamed.
“But part of me liked being the person he came to.”
Tasha said nothing.
“I liked feeling useful.”
That confession felt familiar.
Loretta needed to be needed.
Devon made himself useful.
Malcolm needed to feel capable.
Tasha carried everything because carrying proved strength.
Everyone had built identities around necessity.
“I kept a secret because it made me important,” Kendra said.
“I’m sorry.”
Tasha sat beside her.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For not dressing it up as protection.”
Kendra smiled sadly.
“I’m learning from all this mess too.”
Tasha rested her head briefly against her cousin’s shoulder.
Family, she realized, was not defined by never betraying one another.
It was defined partly by what happened after the betrayal was named.
Did someone defend the wound?
Or help clean it?
Her phone rang.
The lender.
Tasha answered.
The investigator explained that preliminary review supported her claim that she had not authorized the loan.
The account would be removed from active collection against her while the investigation continued.
Any credit reporting associated with the disputed loan would be reviewed.
Tasha closed her eyes.
“Does that mean it’s over?”
“Not yet.”
Of course.
Nothing was over yet.
The investigator continued.
“We received a written statement from Mr. Reed accepting responsibility for the application.”
Tasha looked toward the hallway.
Malcolm had just returned from taking trash downstairs.
He froze when he saw her face.
The investigator said, “His statement was detailed.”
Tasha’s throat tightened.
After the call, Malcolm stood by the door.
“What happened?”
“They got your statement.”
He nodded.
“You told them everything?”
“Yes.”
“Even Loretta’s transfer?”
“Yes.”
“Devon?”
“Yes.”
“What your mother did with the fake email?”
“Yes.”
Malcolm looked tired.
“Tasha, my lawyer says I may be contacted by investigators beyond the lender.”
She understood.
The consequences were becoming real.
“You scared?”
“Yes.”
She appreciated the plain answer.
“Do you regret telling them?”
Malcolm looked at her.
“I regret giving myself something I needed to confess.”
Tasha felt tears fill her eyes.
He did not approach.
That mattered.
“What happens now?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
“With us.”
She looked at the boxes.
“I don’t know.”
Malcolm nodded.
Then his phone rang.
He checked the screen.
His mother.
For once, he did not answer.
The phone stopped.
Immediately, another call came.
Devon.
Malcolm frowned.
He answered.
“What?”
Tasha watched his face change.
“What do you mean she signed?”
Pause.
“When?”
Longer pause.
Malcolm turned pale.
“I’m coming.”
He hung up.
“What happened?” Tasha asked.
He looked at her.
“My mother transferred the duplex.”
“To who?”
“Not Devon.”
May you like
![92 The Girl They Called Broke Was a Billionaire’s Daughter—But Her Father’s Arrival Exposed a Secret Powerful People Had Buried for Years]](https://cdn.treeiq.biz/site_590/2026/11/clone-0-0915d882-53d7-4d17-b43a-a010ca1a1068.webp)
Malcolm grabbed his coat.
“To the investor.”
