I understand you perfectly.
Chapter 5 will raise the stakes: real financial pressure, deeper jealousy, Shane'
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The envelope was waiting on the counter when Kiara arrived the next morning.
She recognized it immediately—thick paper, red lettering, her name typed neatly on the front. Her stomach tightened before she even picked it up. Bills had a way of announcing themselves long before they were opened.
She slid her finger beneath the flap and pulled out the notice.
FINAL WARNING.
Her breath caught.
The rent on the shop was overdue again. Two months this time. The landlord's message was short and unforgiving. If payment wasn't made within ten days, Torres Brew would be forced to close—temporarily, he said. But Kiara knew better.
Temporary closures had a way of becoming permanent.
She sat heavily on the stool behind the counter, the weight of the paper pressing against her chest. She had cut every possible expense. She worked longer hours. She even skipped meals some days. And still, it wasn't enough.
Her parents' shop—their legacy—was slipping through her fingers.
The bell rang.
Shane walked in, his presence as steady and familiar as ever. He took one look at her face and knew something was wrong.
"What happened?" he asked quietly.
"Nothing," she replied too quickly, folding the notice and sliding it under the counter.
He didn't believe her.
"You're shaking," he said, stepping closer. "Kiara."
She hated how easily he saw through her.
"It's just… business," she muttered. "You wouldn't understand."
That was the wrong thing to say.
Shane straightened, his expression tightening—not in anger, but something deeper. Something wounded. "Try me."
Silence stretched between them, thick and uncomfortable. Finally, she sighed and pulled the paper back out, placing it on the counter.
His jaw tightened as he read it.
"How much?" he asked.
Her pride screamed at her to lie. But exhaustion won.
"Enough to lose everything," she said softly.
Shane didn't hesitate. "I'll take care of it."
"No," she snapped, standing abruptly. "You won't."
"Kiara—"
"This is exactly why I said no," she continued, voice trembling. "I don't want to become someone who depends on you to survive."
His voice lowered. "Depending isn't the same as trusting."
Her eyes burned. "It is to me."
For a moment, Shane looked like he wanted to argue. Instead, he exhaled slowly and stepped back. "Then let me help in a way you can accept."
She frowned. "What does that mean?"
"Supplies," he said. "Equipment repair. Marketing. Nothing tied directly to you. Just the shop."
She hesitated.
Against her will, she was tempted.
Before she could respond, the door opened again.
Clara.
She walked in like she belonged there, her eyes sharp as they took in the scene—Kiara standing close to Shane, tension thick between them.
"I hope I'm not interrupting," Clara said sweetly.
"You are," Kiara said before Shane could speak.
Clara's lips curved. "Bold."
Shane turned to Clara. "This isn't a good time."
"I disagree," she replied. "We need to talk. Especially since you've been avoiding me."
Kiara crossed her arms. "Maybe you should take that conversation somewhere else."
The two women locked eyes, something unspoken passing between them. Clara's gaze flicked to the envelope on the counter.
"Financial trouble?" she asked lightly.
Kiara's chest tightened.
Clara smiled. "Careful, Shane. You have a habit of rescuing people. They tend to misunderstand your intentions."
That did it.
Kiara turned to Shane. "Is that true?"
His gaze never left hers. "No."
But doubt had already begun to creep in.
Clara stepped closer to him. "You always did like projects," she whispered.
Kiara stepped back, her heart pounding.
"I think you should leave," Kiara said, voice steady despite the storm inside her. "Both of you."
Shane hesitated, torn. Clara smiled, victorious.
As the door closed behind them, Kiara sank against the counter, breathing hard.
She had drawn a line.
But lines, she was learning, were easier to draw than to keep.
Because deep down, she knew this wasn't over.
And as she stared at the unopened register, the overdue notice, and the empty shop—
She realized the scariest truth of all:
Losing the shop would hurt.
But losing Shane might hurt even more.
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