I noticed that Andrew's seat was empty, and when Usan shot me a disdainful smile, I suddenly had a guess about what was going on.
Following the counselor into the principal's office, I indeed saw Andrew there. His head was bowed, not even giving me a glance.
"Someone reported that your recent exam results were achieved through cheating," the counselor said bluntly.
"But, teacher, you've seen my competition results..." I instinctively defended myself.
The counselor presented the so-called evidence—a screenshot of a chat where "I" asked Andrew to help me cheat.
"That's not me," I said, frowning.
"Daisy," Andrew, who had been silent, suddenly spoke, "Didn't you always say that when you do something wrong, you should own up to it?"
I finally looked at him, expressionless. We stared at each other for a long time.
The truth was still unclear, and I couldn't immediately find evidence to prove my innocence. In the end, I had to voluntarily give up my postgraduate recommendation.
Andrew and I walked out of the office, one after the other. Halfway down the corridor, he suddenly stopped and said, "I'm sorry."
I walked past him as if I hadn't heard.
4
I wandered aimlessly, feeling a wave of helplessness.