Chapter 90 - Clean Loan
I knew Lia was going to do something.
Not because she said anything.
Because after I told her we delayed the wedding because of money, she got quiet.
Lia quiet was dangerous.
Normal people got quiet because they were processing emotions.
Lia got quiet because somewhere inside her head, a spreadsheet had opened.
So before leaving her office, I pointed at her.
"No."
She looked offended.
"I still haven't said anything."
"You're thinking."
"I think all the time."
"That's the problem."
She laughed.
"We're fine."
"I know."
"We are not asking you for money."
"I know."
"Good."
"Yes."
I narrowed my eyes.
She looked completely innocent.
Fake.
Then Mae appeared at the office door holding something that needed Lia's signature, and I escaped before billionaire solution face could finish loading.
Technically not billionaire.
Whatever.
Same energy.
She waited three days.
Very restrained.
Then she messaged me.
Lia: Question.
I stared at the notification.
Absolutely not.
Jane: no
Lia: I haven't asked yet.
Jane: exactly
Lia: Coffee?
Suspicious.
Still—
we were friends again.
Actual friends.
Not friendship as a waiting room.
Not me trying to reduce guilt.
Not her secretly hoping I would change my mind.
We had somehow managed to build something new over the wreckage of the old thing.
So I agreed.
Jane: fine
Then—
Jane: no billionaire solution
Lia: Not a billionaire.
Fuck her.
We met after work.
Lia arrived first.
Of course.
I sat across from her.
"No."
She took a drink.
"Hello to you too."
"Whatever you're about to say."
"You don't even know."
"Yes, I do."
"What?"
"Money."
She smiled.
Terrible.
"Okay. Money."
I groaned.
"Lia."
"Listen first."
"No free money."
"I know."
"No paying for our wedding."
"I know."
"No surprise supplier that turns out to be you."
She laughed.
"I wasn't planning that."
"No secretly settling anything."
"Jane."
"No—"
"Are you finished?"
I crossed my arms.
"For now."
"Good."
She leaned back.
Then—
"You don't want free money."
"Correct."
"So I'm not giving you free money."
I stared.
"What?"
"Loan."
"No."
"Zero point three."
I blinked.
"What?"
"Percent."
"Lia."
"Zero point four?"
"What are you doing?"
"Negotiating."
"No."
"Zero point five. Final."
I stared at her.
She stared back.
Completely serious.
"You're raising the interest because I'm refusing?"
"You said you don't want free money."
"That is still practically free money."
"It's not free. There is interest."
"Half a percent?"
"Monthly."
I stopped.
Okay.
Slightly less ridiculous.
Still cheap.
"That's six percent a year."
"Approximately."
"I can multiply."
"Good. Then you're qualified for the loan."
I covered my face.
"Fuck you."
She smiled.
"As a lender?"
"No."
I lowered my hands.
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
"I don't want you paying for my wedding."
"I am not offering to pay for your wedding."
"Then what exactly are you offering?"
Lia leaned forward.
"A private loan for the practical expense that disrupted your timeline."
I frowned.
"Meaning?"
"Your move."
I went quiet.
There.
That was different.
She continued.
"You and Miguel had two goals happening at the same time. Wedding and moving closer to work."
"Yes."
"Then the family emergency depleted a significant portion of what you had saved."
"Yes."
"So now both plans are competing for the same rebuilt savings."
"Yes."
"Loan the move."
I stared.
"Not the wedding?"
"No."
She shook her head.
"Your wedding stays yours. Your wedding savings stay yours. I don't buy flowers. I don't buy catering. I don't buy rings. I don't pay a venue."
That mattered more than I expected.
"The loan covers things like deposit, advance rent, moving costs, basic setup. Whatever amount you actually need for that side."
I stayed quiet.
"You move when you planned to move. Miguel reduces the commute. You keep rebuilding and using your own money for the wedding."
I hated that it made sense.
Lia saw my face.
"Exactly."
"Don't."
"What?"
"That face."
"What face?"
"The I-have-solved-your-problem face."
"I have not solved anything. I'm offering financing."
"That is such a Lia sentence."
"It's accurate."
I looked down at my coffee.
There was still discomfort.
Not because I thought Lia would use money to control us.
Actually, that was one thing I trusted completely.
She wouldn't.
But accepting money from someone I had rejected—
someone who had once cried across from me—
felt complicated.
I told her.
"That history matters."
Lia understood immediately.
"Yes."
"I don't want some weird debt between us."
"Then don't create one."
"How?"
"Paperwork."
I looked up.
Of course.
She continued—
"Written agreement. Principal. Interest. Payment schedule. Due dates. Prepayment terms. Everything clear."
"No emotional debt."
"No."
"No 'you owe me because I helped you.'"
"Absolutely not."
"No using this later if we argue."
"I would rather buy another printer than do that."
I laughed.
"There it is."
She smiled.
"Also, this isn't just between you and me."
That stopped me.
"Miguel has to agree."
Good.
"And the loan should be to both of you if you're both using it for the move."
I nodded slowly.
"No decision tonight."
"You mean that?"
"Yes."
"Completely?"
"Jane, I offered you a loan. I did not acquire your household."
Fuck.
I laughed again.
I told Miguel that night.
Not dramatically.
We were eating dinner at his place while he was charging his dying phone because apparently purchasing a functional device remained against his religion.
"I talked to Lia."
He looked up.
"About the order?"
"No."
He stopped chewing.
"Oh."
"Money."
He put his spoon down.
"Oh."
Exactly.
I explained.
No free money.
No wedding sponsorship.
Loan only.
For the move.
Documented.
Actual interest.
Miguel listened.
Then—
"How much?"
"I don't know."
"She didn't offer an amount?"
"She said we calculate what we actually need."
He nodded.
I knew that nod.
Spreadsheet nod.
Apparently I had surrounded myself with these people.
We opened our numbers.
Again.
Current savings.
Emergency depletion.
Projected wedding expenses.
Move-in expenses.
Two months deposit.
One month advance.
Basic furniture.
Transport.
A small refrigerator.
Bed.
Utility deposits.
Internet setup.
Some emergency allowance so that moving in did not leave us with exactly forty-three pesos and optimism.
We already owned some things.
We could buy others later.
We cut aggressively.
No fancy furniture.
No complete Pinterest apartment on Day One.
Functional first.
By the time we were done, Miguel stared at the sheet.
"One-fifty."
I looked.
?150,000.
That was the gap.
Not enough to become dependent.
Enough to let us move without eating the wedding fund alive.
Miguel leaned back.
"Can we repay it comfortably?"
We calculated.
"Yes."
Twenty-four months would be easy enough.
Could do faster if nothing unexpected happened.
Probably would.
Miguel nodded.
Then—
"What are the exact terms?"
I smiled.
"I knew you'd ask that."
"Of course."
"Half percent monthly."
"Declining balance or flat?"
I stopped.
"I don't know."
"Important."
"See, this is why you get invited."
He ignored me.
"Prepayment penalty?"
"She said probably none, but we'd formalize everything."
"Late payment?"
"Didn't ask."
"Grace period?"
"Didn't ask."
"First payment?"
"Also didn't ask."
Miguel looked at me.
"What did you talk about?"
"Emotional boundaries."
He nodded seriously.
"Also important."
Thank you.
Then he went quiet.
"What?"
"I don't want her paying for our wedding."
"She's not."
"I know."
"She was very clear."
"Good."
"And I don't want you feeling like we have to do this."
"I don't."
"Do you want to?"
Miguel looked at the numbers again.
Then—
"I think it's a good loan."
Not I think Lia can afford it.
Good loan.
Difference.
"Same."
"If it's documented."
"Yes."
"If there's actual interest."
"Yes."
"If we can prepay."
"Yes."
"And if she doesn't try to waive the balance later."
I started laughing.
Miguel frowned.
"What?"
"She absolutely might."
"Then put that in the contract."
I laughed harder.
"Clause: lender is prohibited from becoming generous."
"Exactly."
I loved him.
Very specifically.
We met Lia three days later.
All three of us.
Her office.
Because apparently our relationship had progressed to formal financing meetings inside the facility where Lia processed heartbreak through industrial expansion.
There was another printer outside.
I noticed immediately.
"Is that new?"
Lia followed my eyes.
"No."
"How new?"
"Couple months."
I looked at Miguel.
He looked at me.
Pattern confirmed.
Lia frowned.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Why are you both looking at me?"
"Loan," Miguel said.
Good man.
Back on topic.
We sat.
Lia had a notebook.
Of course.
"How much?"
Miguel answered.
"One hundred fifty thousand."
Lia did not blink.
No—
that's all?
No offer to round it up.
Good.
"What specifically?"
Miguel gave her the breakdown.
Deposit.
Advance.
Move.
Basic essentials.
Utility setup.
Small contingency.
Lia listened.
Asked a few questions.
Not invasive.
Just verifying.
Then nodded.
"Okay."
I stared.
"That easy?"
"You calculated it."
"Yes."
"You can repay it?"
"Yes."
"Then okay."
Miguel leaned forward slightly.
"Terms."
Something changed in Lia's expression.
Approval.
Tiny.
I saw it.
Miguel probably didn't.
"What terms do you want?" she asked.
"You're the lender."
"I offered point five monthly."
"Declining balance?"
Lia paused.
Then smiled.
"Yes."
There.
Respect earned.
I knew that face too.
"Twenty-four months?" Miguel asked.
"Works for me."
"Prepayment?"
"No penalty."
"Early full payment?"
"Anytime."
"Late payment?"
Lia thought.
"Five-day grace. After that, no penalty the first time. We talk."
Miguel nodded.