All my life I lived alone, even after I'd married The Fool. At least I acted that way. Marching to the determined beat of my own heart, I fought for the survival of my business. It led me to a minimalist office in rural Dorset, where a corporate banker spelled out my doom.

"The bank has refused to grant any more funds." Mr. Lawrence flashed me a tight-lipped smile. "I'm afraid I have no choice but to reject your request, Mrs. Bergwald."

Cultural convention required the banker to address me by my married name. It felt strange, though. Like he'd meant someone else. To appease my conservative husband, I'd adopted it, but I could never shake the feeling that 'Mrs. Bergwald' made me sound like a sixty-four-year-old grandma knitting by a roaring hearth. It didn't exactly conjure a dynamic businesswoman half that age who had crossed the Atlantic years ago to start a new life.

In my mind I was still Toria Walker: a hard worker, an avid go-getter, and a perpetual dreamer who had always found a way to make her ambitions become reality.

Recently they'd vanished right before my eyes like smoke in the wind.

"I wish I could do more to help," he added in a contrite tone.

I heaved a sigh. If only you could take me away from here. From this situation. From that foolish husband of mine.

The banker and I were the same age, give or take. It was hard to tell for certain because he had one of those handsome 'good boy' faces that never aged. The total opposite of the hardened, chiseled features of my husband.

When his vibrant blue-gray eyes locked onto mine, my stomach flipped. Anxiety, mostly. He'd delivered the worst possible news, after all. But I won't lie. My traitorous heart had scooped a decent helping of romantic desire and plopped it on top like whipped cream upon wobbly gelatin. A fleeting bout of wishful thinking that would quickly pass.

"Would you consider taking my husband's troubles out of the equation?" I asked in a deferential tone.

"If we had considered him, you wouldn't have received any of the previous loans."

My heart sank. How the mighty have fallen.

Over the past ten years, I'd built up tons of goodwill as a conscientious saver for both my retirement and a future house. Mr. Lawrence had set up my account when I'd first arrived as a graduate exchange student. He'd continued to advise me when I'd grown a flourishing private tutoring business. We'd gone through a lot together, always solidly in the black.

But everything had changed after the car accident.

My surgery had required months of recovery. Mr. Lawrence had helped me liquidate my savings to get the business back on track and pay the bills in the meantime. As the sole breadwinner, the lack of steady income had thrown me into an economic tailspin that I couldn't fix.

Now my finances were sinking in a sea of red. His hands were tied. I didn't blame the banker, but the truth stung nonetheless.

"Thank you, Mr. Lawrence." I swallowed the lump in my throat. "For everything."

He shook my hand with both of his and maintained polite eye contact. "If there's anything else I can do—anything at all—please let me know."

Resentment burbled in my chest. He shows me more sympathy than my own husband.

"I will, Mr. Lawrence."

It was his job to use the charm offensive and sell financial opportunities to prospective business clients. Just not to those who had already fallen prey to economic ruin.

People like me.

No matter how friendly he seemed, this man wouldn't pretend to be my knight in shining armor. If he couldn't make money off of me, I didn't matter.

That's capitalism. That's the game.

And you lost, big time.

I stewed over my failure on the bus ride home. For years I'd worked hard while The Fool had tried to sell his art, an idealist venture that would never work. Since the accident I'd grown angry and impatient waiting for our chance to live life instead of simply subsisting.

If only The Fool had chosen a decent career like Mr. Lawrence...

We could have chosen a cozy little house to make a home. It would have given us the freedom to enjoy life without drowning in debt. On holiday we could have traveled to different places. Perhaps I'd have the brain space to write, or at the very least we could go to the movies more than once a year.

It didn't take much to make me happy.

Stop daydreaming! It's too late.

Now is the time for damage control.

With an exhausted sigh, I stumbled into our grungy apartment and sighed at the giant piles of laundry that hadn't been done. At the kitchen that still hadn't been installed because we couldn't afford it. At the quarterly utility bill for several hundred pounds that I didn't have.

I was too tired to cry. Too tired to care. Too tired to try.

The Fool's greeting echoed in the bathroom along with a splash of water from the tub. "Na, kleine Maus, biste scho' ma' da?" he asked. Hey, sweetie, you're back already?

Good God! I hate that nickname.

"Yeah, it's me," I replied in German. "Stay there. I've got tons of grading to catch up on."

"All right."

Time to make a decision. We can't go on like this anymore.

___

Word count: 889
Total word count: 889/2,000

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Please bear in mind that I haven't written many romance stories, so this may need a bit more work. Also I'm pantsing the heck outta this. But I'm having lots of fun! *confetti*