Chapter 1 Embarrassed

The California sun shone like it had something to prove, bright and unforgiving as it poured through the dust-smeared windows of the cramped apartment hallway. Savannah Hart sat on the floor outside her flat, back against the peeling wall, knees tucked into her chest. The phone pressed to her ear was her only connection to home-a home that felt a world away.

The line rang once, twice, then clicked.

"Savannah?" her mother's voice came through, soft and accented, like a warm hug. "Mi cielo, is everything okay? You haven't called in two days."

Savannah forced her lips into a smile, one she knew her mother couldn't see but might hear anyway. "I'm fine, mamá. Just been busy. Job hunting and, you know... life."

"You sound tired."

"I'm just-adjusting," she said, picking at the frayed hem of her jeans. "It's nothing. Really."

"Are you eating properly? Sleeping? Your father says you always push too hard."

"I'm eating, I swear. And sleeping. I've got a good handle on everything."

She shifted, cradling the phone tighter to her ear as her gaze fell on the stack of unopened envelopes in her bag. Final Notice. Immediate Action Required. Past Due. The words screamed at her in red ink, but she blinked them away, pretending they didn't exist.

"How's Papa?" she asked, steering the conversation away from her.

"He's fine. Always talking about flying to California to visit. I told him to wait until you settle in more. You're sure everything is okay?"

Savannah hesitated. Her throat felt tight. "I'm okay," she lied. "Just trying to make you guys proud."

There was a pause.

"We already are," her mother said. "Call us more often, okay? Your sister misses you."

"I will," she whispered. "Te quiero."

She ended the call before the truth could rise and betray her. She sat there a moment longer, her shoulders hunched. Everything was slipping out of her control, and she didn't have the strength to say it out loud.

Three weeks ago, she had a job. A steady paycheck. A plan.

Three weeks ago, she'd also had a boss who didn't understand boundaries.

It started with compliments. Then came the inappropriate jokes. Then came the moment she stayed late and he cornered her, hand brushing her hip like he owned her. She slapped him-hard-and stormed out, shaking and breathless.

By morning, the story had been rewritten. She was "unprofessional," "disruptive," and "volatile." HR didn't investigate. They just handed her a termination letter and escorted her out.

That was the beginning of the spiral.

Now the rent was months overdue. The fridge was empty. And the jobs she'd applied for didn't call back. Not one.

She stood slowly, dusted off her pants, and turned toward her apartment door.

Then came the sound.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

"Savannah Hart!" The voice belonged to Mrs. Kline, her landlady-a tall, severe woman with a perpetual frown.

Savannah opened the door halfway, her heart pounding. "Mrs. Kline. Please, I just need a little more time-one more month, I promise. I'll have something soon."

"I've given you more than enough time. You're two months behind."

"I know. I know and I'm sorry. I didn't plan for any of this to happen-"

"You should've planned to pay your rent," the woman snapped. Then, motioning over her shoulder, she added, "Boys."

Two moving men came forward, swift and efficient. In minutes, Savannah's small collection of belongings-two suitcases, a folding chair, a coffee maker, and a thrifted bookshelf-were dragged into the hallway.

Her face flushed hot with shame.

"Please," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Don't do this today. Just one more-"

But Mrs. Kline was already peeling a sticker off its backing. She slapped it onto the front door. AVAILABLE FOR LEASE - IMMEDIATE OCCUPANCY.

The hallway fell silent.

Except for the laugh.

Across from her, two women-neighbors who never offered a hello-stood at their door, watching like it was a reality show.

"Guess she finally ran out of favors," one of them said loud enough for her to hear. The other smirked, phone raised, recording.

Savannah didn't say anything. What could she say?

She knelt to pick up her bag. Her hands trembled as she stuffed it with clothes and books, trying to look dignified as the building seemed to turn against her.

Just then, a familiar voice rang out.

"Sav?"

Savannah looked up, her vision blurry. Maya stood at the stairwell, sunglasses on her head, holding a bottle of iced tea.

She blinked. "What... what's going on? Why are your things out here?"

Savannah's composure finally cracked. "I got evicted."

Maya rushed over, kneeling beside her. "What the hell? When?"

"Now." Her voice broke. "I-I couldn't pay. I've been looking for a job ever since I got fired but nothing came through. And I didn't want to tell my family-they're all the way in Spain and I didn't want to worry them and I-"

"Hey, hey, breathe." Maya put her hands on Savannah's shoulders. "You should've told me. You think I'm going to let you sleep on the sidewalk?"

"I didn't want to be a burden."

"You're not a burden, Sav. You're my best friend. Come stay with me, okay?"

Savannah blinked. "You mean it?"

Maya pulled her into a tight hug. "Of course I mean it. Come on, we'll take your stuff and go. You'll be safe at my place."

Savannah couldn't hold back the tears anymore. She clung to her friend, burying her face in her shoulder.

The laughter from the neighbors faded away. The eviction notice fluttered in the wind. And for the first time in weeks, something inside Savannah-something quiet and fragile-felt the smallest flicker of hope.

She picked up her suitcase, wiped her eyes, and followed Maya down the stairs.

Maybe rock bottom was also where new stories began.