Sarah looked at the final number. It wasn't just a digit anymore; it was the cost of a front door they could paint red, a hallway where they’d measure a child’s height, and a place where the air finally felt like it belonged to them.
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“Down payment,” he muttered, his fingers hovering. He entered . He watched the "Monthly Payment" figure instantly recalculate. It dropped, but not enough. He felt a familiar knot of anxiety. He wasn't just looking at a number; he was looking at how many dinners out they’d have to skip, how many years he’d have to keep his dented sedan, and whether they could still afford the quality kibble for their dog, Barnaby. Sarah looked at the final number