They relaxed immediately as if the matter was settled. I finished dinner without arguing and left soon after, keeping my expression neutral.
Back at my apartment, I could not shake the feeling that something was wrong. I checked my credit report out of habit and saw an account I had never opened. It showed a loan for eighty four thousand dollars under my name.
The address linked to the account was my parents’ house.
The next morning, I called the lending company immediately. The representative told me the identity verification had already passed. She suggested I file a police report and freeze my credit.
I followed her instructions even though my mind felt overwhelmed. After that, I contacted the background check company handling my new job.
They told me everything would be reviewed within forty eight hours. I realized my job could disappear because of something I did not do.
I called my mother but she did not answer. My father finally picked up and denied knowing anything about the loan. His voice became defensive and he ended the call quickly.
Soon after, my sister sent a message asking when I would transfer the money they expected. At the same time, I received an email asking me to verify employment details I never provided.
My fear turned into urgency and I drove straight to my parents’ house. I used my spare key and walked inside without announcing myself. The house felt tense and unusually quiet.
From the kitchen, I heard my mother speaking in a low but urgent voice.
“If she does not pay, we will all be in trouble,” she said.
A man I did not recognize replied in a calm tone.
“Then make sure she understands the situation,” he said.
I stood still at the edge of the hallway, realizing this was no longer just about money.
Part 2
I left the kitchen without making any noise because I knew if I stayed, I would explode.
In the hallway, the air felt colder and more normal. I backed away slowly until I reached the front door. My hands were sweaty and my mouth tasted like metal.
I went outside, got into my car, and just sat there holding the steering wheel. I kept asking myself the same question over and over again.
Who was that man in my parents’ kitchen?
At first, I tried to make it simple. Maybe he was a contractor or someone from work. But I knew that was not true because my mother had not sounded casual or relaxed.