Back at home, I sat at the kitchen table, my laptop open, documents spread around me. I scanned each page, looking for anything I might have missed. The figures were there, stark and unyielding, highlighted in the same neat script that lined the rest of the pages.
I emailed the documents to Sarah, attaching a note that summarized our earlier conversation. “Anything you can find would be a huge help,” I wrote, hitting send with a mix of hope and trepidation.
While waiting for her response, I contemplated my next move. Consulting another lawyer would mean additional costs, something I wasn’t sure I could afford. But doing nothing would mean accepting the charges as they were, and I wasn’t ready for that.
The hours dragged on with no word from Sarah. I paced the small living room, checking my phone every few minutes. When a notification finally pinged, I nearly dropped the device in my haste to open it.
“There might be something,” Sarah’s message began, “but I’m going to need a bit more time to be sure.”
Relief and anxiety mingled in equal measure. It was a start, a possible path through the tangled mess I had found myself in. I replied quickly, thanking her profusely and offering to meet whenever she was free.
As the day turned to evening, I tried to distract myself with mundane tasks—washing dishes, tidying up, anything to keep my mind occupied. But the numbers from the lawyer’s office continued to dance in my head, a haunting reminder of the unresolved issues that awaited.
When the phone rang later that evening, I almost didn’t answer, my nerves frayed from the day’s events. But seeing Sarah’s name on the screen forced my hand.
“Hey, I’ve found something,” she said, her voice tinged with excitement. “It might not solve everything, but it’s a start.”
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