I apologized a little, “Sorry, I just got lost in thought. What are you talking about?”
Perhaps my tone was too rusty.
He slammed on the brakes and turned his head to look at me, “Are you still mad about that wedding dress?”
“Hmm?” I blinked, genuinely confused. “Why would I be? No, of course not.”
Vincent looked at me for a few seconds, searching my face for anger. But all he found was calm indifference. His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he started the car again. His voice, however, was hoarse. “You’ve changed. You’re not like this… not like you used to be.”
He was not wrong.
A year ago, after Zoe graduated and returned to our town, Vincent and I both changed. We fought endlessly because of her. He always said that he only treats Zoe as his little sister and told me not to be unreasonable.
“She’s like a little sister to me. Stop being so unreasonable!” he’d yell, defending her every time.
The most serious fight was the one where he got furious and pointed at me.