"Darren, there's hangover soup in the kitchen. You should have some to help with your stomach," Laura said softly.
Darren abruptly pulled his hand away from her grasp, his displeasure evident as he snapped, “Why didn't you fight back? Didn’t you have any temper? Why did you just let those people talk down on you like that?"
Laura swallowed the bitterness in her throat. She sniffled, feeling a wave of helplessness and grievance.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to fight back, but what they said... was the truth.
After all, it was Darren himself who had told them the truth.
They stood there, neither of them moving.
Laura’s heart was filled with a mixture of conflicting thoughts, unsure if she should speak or not.
Darren looked up and saw nothing but an empty wall.
He pointed at the wall, his face darkening and the moonlight only deepened his suspicion. "Where's the painting?"
"I took it for repairs. It hadn't been taken down and cleaned in a long time and it had accumulated a layer of dust," Laura replied, not wanting to say much more. After all, whatever she said, it would always be her fault. Perhaps Darren had long been dissatisfied with her.