The moment I stepped through the front door, I almost laughed.
Five years together. Every corner of this home had been arranged by my own hands. The walls, the shelves, every surface was covered with photos of me and Barnaby.
I looked up at the two people standing in front of me, suddenly curious to see how they'd explain this.
"We're really just friends? These photos don't exactly scream 'platonic.'"
My tone in the car had already put Lena on edge. Now, hearing this question, she didn't bother hiding her irritation.
"What exactly are you implying? You don't actually think you're Barnaby's girlfriend, do you?"
"I wanted to say something back in the car. What's with the attitude you've been giving me?"
"Before you lost your memory, you were constantly trying to sabotage our relationship, always clinging to Barnaby and making him take pictures with you. Now you're using those photos to stir up trouble. I've been more than patient with you!"
Listening to Lena twist reality like she was the victim here, all I felt was a bitter sort of amusement.
I was about to fire back when Barnaby cut me off.