So that’s how Michael described me.
In that case, why should I be so hard on myself? I smiled at Samantha, then looked back at Michael and nodded earnestly.
“You’re quite right.”
Michael, thinking Samantha had convinced me, was about to say, “You—”
But I interrupted him.
“After all, I’m not like you,” I said, changing the subject. “I’m not the kind of person who wouldn’t bother picking up morals lying on the ground.”
I pointed at my face. “Since you’re going to sue, whatever!”
“But for now,” I laughed, “enjoy the fifteen days of detention and the compensation.”
After all.
I bought a house to support Samantha’s son’s education.
If he really had to pay it back, Michael would be half dead. I left the police station and got into Ethan Brooks’s car. The music in the car happened to be playing Kelly Clarkson’s Since U Been Gone. Kelly sang, “Thanks to you, now I get what I want, since you been gone.”
Ethan handed me a green cap and asked me.
“Do you still like it?”
I looked at the green cap in my arms and laughed angrily. I slapped Ethan on the head: “If you don’t want to die, drive.”
I sat in the two-bedroom apartment Michael had bought for Samantha.
Looking inside.
The layout was cozy. A family photo hung in the living room. It showed Michael hugging Samantha, with their child. The child was still in school at this age and probably didn’t know his parents were in police custody. I looked at the bills in the living room and saw the money Michael had spent on Samantha over the years. From small amounts like one to a hundred dollars.
From large amounts like thousands, tens of thousands, or even hundreds of thousands.
It was a significant amount.
I remembered that for three years after we got married, Michael and I had been apart for so long, always using the phrase:
“I hope to become a better match for you.”
It silenced all my dissatisfaction with our lukewarm relationship. Then, I saw a USB drive in the drawer of the TV cabinet. It read, in bold, bold letters: [Michael Reynolds x Samantha Hayes].
I inserted the USB drive into the projector and saw that the timeline was last year.
Thanksgiving.
My parents and I sat in the old house, waiting for Michael all day. Finally, he arrived, carrying pumpkin pie, apologizing for being too busy and hoping our family wouldn’t be angry.
Now, looking at the contents projected on the USB drive, I feel like I’m sinking into an icy cave.
In the video.