His voice carried blame, as though I were the one being unreasonable.
"It's just a ticket. Do you really have to throw a fit? Rosalie is upset! Why couldn't you show a little understanding?"
My grip on the phone tightened until my fingertips whitened. "My ticket. You canceled it without asking me?"
"It was urgent!" he shot back, sounding self-righteous. "Rosalie didn't do well on her exams. She's been feeling particularly down and lacking energy. The business-class seat you booked is quieter, more comfortable—it's perfect for helping her relax.
"And besides, why didn't you book an extra one when you got the tickets? Now it's all such a mess!"
I almost laughed at the absurdity of his logic.
"Kervin, I stayed up three whole nights for those two tickets. My eyes burned from staring at the screen, and my fingers were sore from refreshing nonstop.
"This was supposed to be our first trip home together. I wanted it to be a memory we both cherished. And you—without a word to me—gave my ticket away to someone else?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" His voice rose. "Danna, I don't know when you became so cold-hearted and petty."