She arrived looking exhausted and told me she and her husband Rick were about to lose their house. His construction business had collapsed, bills had piled up, and the bank was closing in. They had tried everything, she said, and were desperate. When I asked how much they needed, she answered, “Twenty-five thousand.”
That was nearly half my savings, but she was my sister, so I agreed. Rick came by to sign a simple loan agreement, promising they wouldn’t forget the help. After the money hit their account, Lisa cried with relief, and I felt I’d done the right thing.
Months passed with no mention of repayment. Instead, their social media filled with weekend trips, new outfits, dinners out—and Rick posing with a brand-new truck. Meanwhile, I was stretching groceries and teaching small workshops to rebuild my income. At a family dinner I asked how things were going, and Lisa casually said, “Much better,” but still said nothing about the loan.
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