Pushing open James's door, I saw the girl sitting on the sofa, crying, while James was busy in the kitchen.
"Who is she?" I struggled to control my tone, trying not to let my anger and jealousy spill over.
James turned around, a flicker of panic crossing his face. "Ashley, what are you doing here? This is my friend from middle school, just back from abroad."
I scoffed. "A friend? Is that why you're holding her so closely to comfort her? Is that why you didn't go to the amusement park that day?!"
James's expression turned slightly annoyed. "What are you thinking?
"It's because her pet is sick and in the hospital. I was just comforting her," he defended.
"And the other day, when her pipe burst, I was just helping her," he added.
I suddenly remembered that over the years, I had always handled any plumbing issues at home myself.
"So you can fix pipes?" I said sarcastically. "I've never seen you lift a finger all these years."
James's face darkened instantly. "What exactly do you want to say? Is there something wrong with helping a friend?"
I felt dizzy, as all my doubts and insecurities erupted in that moment.