He pulled out his phone and typed a number. It was more than he’d planned, but less than his absolute limit. He was tired of being a spectator in his own life.

Three hours later, the call came. He wasn't just a renter anymore; he was a homeowner with a thirty-year mortgage and a very long commute. It was terrifying, expensive, and quintessentially Canadian. He smiled, already wondering where he’d put the snowblower.

"The inspection report is clean," Sarah whispered, leaning against a peeling doorframe. "But there are already three offers on the table. If you want this, we need to go in firm. No conditions."

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