Page 17 of Triplet Babies for Pucking Christmas

The city feels different now. Or maybe I’m the one who’s different.

I miss my mom so much it’s like a physical ache. My throat tightens as I think about her, how she was always my biggest supporter, even when everything else fell apart.

I’ll have to visit New York sometimes, make sure her grave’s taken care of.

The Uber pulls up, and I slide into the back seat, setting my bags beside me. As we drive through the city, I watch the skyline pass by, tall buildings and glass reflecting the early morning sun.

Chicago always had this energy, this hum beneath the surface that I never felt anywhere else. But now it feels like I’m here to fight for something, even if I’m not sure what yet.

I force myself to look away from the window and focus on the screen.Kimmy’s apartment should be decent,I remind myself.

After I drop my stuff off, I’m meeting Millie, the blogger. We were friends in high school before life took us in different directions, and she’s one of the only people I know who might help me with this whole disaster. The interview could save me, or at least give me a chance to salvage my career.

The Uber driver pulls up to the address Kimmy gave me. It’s a nice building, a little too nice for the monthly rent, but maybe I got lucky. I drag my bags out of the car and head toward the front door, scanning for her name on the buzzers.

Nothing.

I scroll through the emails again, looking for more details. Did I get the address wrong? No. It’s the right place. I buzz random units, waiting for someone to answer, but there’s nothing. The whole building feels weirdly quiet like it’s asleep.

I grab my phone and text Kimmy.Hey, I’m here at the apartment. Can you buzz me in?

No response.

Ten minutes pass. Then twenty. My stomach sinks as the reality starts to settle in. I check the Venmo receipt again, and it hits me like a ton of bricks.I’ve been conned.

The door to the building stays locked, no one comes out to greet me, and I stand there like a fucking idiot with my bags at my feet, realizing I’ve just handed over a thousand dollars to some random scammer.

My stomach churns, the knot of dread growing tighter with every second that ticks by.

Shit.

I’ve been duped. Terribly. And now, here I am, standing on the sidewalk in Chicago with nowhere to live. I want to scream, but instead, I just stand there, staring at the building, trying to figure out what the hell I’m supposed to do next.

What now, Savannah?

I drag my bags to the side of the street, sitting on top of one while I scroll through my phone, trying to find any hint of hope.

But all I see are dead ends. The fake email, the fake Craigslist ad. All of it.

I want to cry, but I’m too pissed off to even do that. My eyes burn, my chest feels tight, and I want to punch something. I trusted this person—hell, Ipaidthem—and now I’m stranded. Alone. Again.

I scroll through my contacts, my thumb hovering over Millie’s name. Maybe I can tell her what’s going on. But I haven’t seen her in years, and showing up as a total disaster isn’t exactly how I wanted to make a comeback.

I take a deep breath, wiping my eyes.I’ll figure this out.

A part of me wants to go back to Jared’s hotel, just crash there and forget this whole nightmare. But no. I can’t lean on him. It was one night, and I’m not dragging him into my mess.

I swipe through apartment listings, trying to find a last-minute solution, but everything is booked or way out of my budget.

Why the hell did I trust Craigslist?

My gut had warned me, but I had ignored it. And now I was paying the price.

The city is moving around me, people walking past without a second glance. I’ve never felt so small or so fucking lost.

I sit there for a long time, staring at my phone, praying for some kind of miracle. Anything.

But there’s nothing.

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