As he spoke, he opened the fingerprint lock management interface and clicked on the delete button of Margaret's fingerprints, but he glanced at my expression and hesitated to click.
I sat on the bed and sneered at him. "What, you won't even pretend to listen to me? It's too troublesome to delete the fingerprint and then input it again. It's more troublesome than fooling me, right?"
Perhaps my objection was too firm, he immediately deleted her fingerprints and confessed his loyalty to me. "That's impossible. I was just afraid that you would be sad, so I wanted to see you more and care about you."
I looked at his feet expressionlessly. He was stepping on our broken wedding picture, and the smile of us on it was more terrible than a crying face.
Meanwhile, Margaret was peeking in at the door, and I suddenly felt tedious arguing with him again and ended our conversation rashly.
She immediately pulled him to the living room and reprimanded him. "Matthew, how could you listen to whatever your wife says? Do I have to register when I enter the neighborhood and get her permission to enter your house?"