“I said around six weeks.”
“No, you said six.”
The room goes very still.
You do not speak.
Accounting teaches patience. If numbers don’t match, you let people explain until they make the hole bigger.
Luis turns fully toward Karla.
“Karla.”
She stands.
“This is not the time.”
“When did you find out?”
She grabs her phone.
“I’m not doing this with him watching.”
“With him?” you repeat quietly.
Neither of them answers.
Luis reaches for the paper on the table, but you pull it back.
“I want both of you out of my house within thirty days.”
Karla laughs once.
“You can’t do that.”
You look at her.
“Yes, I can.”
Luis slams his hand on the table.
“This is my home too.”
“No,” you say. “It is the house your mother and I bought. You are a guest who forgot he was one.”
His face twists.
