"You didn't inform me about such a crucial matter until after the surgery, Sarah Jones, what do you take me for?"
I wanted to give him the exact same sentence back.
But I was tired.
At this point, no matter how much I said to him, it would be meaningless.
I simply told him, "Please lower your voice and don't wake momo."
"Sarah, don't change the subject. I'm asking you why you didn't notify me about the surgery."
Facing his burning gaze, I smiled lightly and said.
"Because you're not deserving."
As I watched him follow me upstairs and return to the room.
He clenched his teeth in anger.
Before long, the rumbling sound of a sports car could be heard outside the window.
Harris chose to give me another silent treatment.
Since our marriage, every silent treatment ended with me softening and begging him to come home to see the child.
Unfortunately, he didn't see the packed luggage in the bedroom every time.
This time, I was too exhausted to play the childish game of on-and-off with him.
In retrospect.
I met Harris in high school.
True to his name, he was the most difficult student to manage in the entire school.
He skipped classes and smoked, always surrounded by a group of shady friends.
I was the quiet one who focused on studying, the top student in the class with the least presence.
We spent three years in the same class without ever exchanging a single word.
Until one day, the class monitor reported him for stealing a classmate's phone.
When they looked in his bag, they found several expensive phones.
Everyone accused him, even the teachers were frustrated and ready to report him to the police.
But I stepped forward and told them that I had seen Harris repairing phones during class time, hunched over the desk.
These phones were not stolen.
Later, the police arrived.
They proved that I was right, that Harris had never stolen anything from anyone.
Despite that, the people in the class still looked at him with skeptical eyes, unwilling to believe.
Some even thought I was meddling in other people's business and marginalized me. From then on, I became a loner, just like Harris.
I can't remember how many times I was walking home alone when I got fed up and turned around.
I scolded the sloppy young man for being a creepy stalker.
I called him a pervert stalker.
And I said I detested scumbags like him the most.
"Get lost! Don't be an eyesore."