The delivery business lasted exactly eleven days.
The motorbike he bought second-hand broke down twice.
The riders he hired quit after three days.
The app he paid someone to build never worked.
The supplies got stolen.
The customers never came.
By the end of the second week, Mateo was pacing the living room, mumbling to himself, hair yanked fistfuls at a time. Jade tried to soothe him, but he snapped every time her voice entered the room.
"I just need more time," Mateo kept saying. "People start slow. Businesses start slow. Stop acting like you know everything, Ja."
But Jade wasn't acting like she knew anything—
she was acting like she was afraid. Afraid because she didn't have a plan to pay back the loan, afraid of the kind of people she took this loan from.
Bambi was the one home when the first knock came.
Three short taps.
A pause.
Then two sharp ones.
A rhythm that felt rehearsed.
She opened the door halfway—
and froze.
A tall man in a leather jacket filled the doorway, flanked by another who looked carved out of cement.
"Where is Mateo?" the man asked calmly.
Bambi swallowed. "He—he's not here. Um… can I help you?"
The man smiled. It was almost gentle. Almost.
"Your boyfriend owes money."
Her stomach dropped. "He… he said the payments start next month."
"Oh," the man chuckled. "The interest starts immediately. He should've explained that."
He handed her a paper.
A number was written at the bottom.
A number that didn't make sense.
A number ten times larger than the original loan.
Bambi's breath stuttered. "This—this must be a mistake—"
The man leaned in so close she felt his breath on her cheek.
"No mistakes. We don't make mistakes. Tell Mateo we want our money. Soon."
He tapped her chin once, lightly, like she was a child.
Then they left.
When the door closed, Bambi slid to the floor and sobbed silently into her palms.
When Mateo came home that night, Bambi told him what happened.
Mateo's face went pale.
Then blank.
Then angry.
"Why did you open the door?" he yelled. "Why are you always so stupid, Bambi?"
Bambi flinched.
Jade stepped between them. "Mateo. Stop."
But Mateo was spiralling.
The fear in his eyes morphed into fury.
At them.
Always at them.
Never at himself.
"I'll fix this," he snapped, grabbing his jacket. "Just—just stay out of it. Both of you."
He didn't come home the next night.
Or the night after.
Or the next.
When he did come back, he slept for hours, filthy and exhausted, refusing to explain where he'd been.
The interest doubled again.
Then again.
The papers left under their door became threats.
Then promises.
Bambi cried more often.
Mateo vanished more often.
Jade held everything together with trembling hands.
She watched Mateo pace, watched him lie, watched him crumble into someone she barely recognized.
One night, Jade finally snapped.
"Mateo, talk to me. Please." Her voice cracked. "I signed the loan. I deserve to know what's happening."
Mateo's jaw tightened. He didn't look at her.
"You wouldn't understand."
"Try me."
He said nothing.
Jade stepped closer. "Mateo… we're drowning."
He finally looked at her then—eyes empty, face hollow.
"I'm trying, Jan," he whispered. "I'm trying so hard."
She touched his cheek gently… and he pushed her hand away.
He left again that night.
Jade sat on the kitchen floor, hugging her knees, feeling the weight of the world press down on her ribs until breathing hurt.
Bambi wasn't blind.
She saw Jade fading.
Saw Mateo withdrawing.
Saw the fear creeping into their home like a fog.
The knocks at the door became more frequent.
Sometimes the men didn't knock.
Sometimes they pushed inside.
Once, one of them traced Jade's jaw with his finger and whispered,
"Pretty girls make easy payment."
Bambi grabbed a kitchen knife that day.
Her hands were shaking so badly she dropped it.
That night, they barricaded the door with the couch.
Mateo didn't come home.
It came at dawn.
The apartment was quiet — too quiet.
Bambi was half-asleep on the couch, Jade lying beside her.
Then a loud crash shook the door.
Jade jolted awake.
Bambi froze.
The voice from the hallway was cold, calm, terrifying in its stillness:
"Tell Mateo this is the last warning."
A heavy thud — something metal hitting the door.
Then footsteps fading away.
Jade inched forward and peeked under the door.
A gun shell casing lay on the floor outside.
Bambi burst into tears.
Jade clutched her, trying to stay strong, trying not to fall apart right there.
But something inside her whispered a truth she didn't want to hear:
Mateo had led them here.
Mateo had abandoned them.
Mateo had destroyed everything.
And the cracks in their little trio were no longer cracks.
They were fractures.
Deepening.
Splitting.
Ready to shatter.