Chapter 5
I sidestepped Michael and headed for the door.
He stepped in front of me, blocking my path.
"Stop right there. If you walk out that door today, don't come crying to me later," he said, his voice cold and full of warning.
"The only thing I regret is spending two years in this place," I shot back, my tone icy and unyielding.
Evelyn's knees buckled, and the ceramic pot slipped from her hands, hitting the floor with a loud crack.
The pot splintered into several jagged shards.
She collapsed to the floor, crying so hard she could barely breathe.
"That was my entry for the exhibition! Claire, why did you push me?" Evelyn sobbed.
Michael immediately let go of my suitcase and rushed over to help her up.
"Claire, are you out of your mind?" he shouted.
I stood a few feet away, watching the shards scattered across the floor.
"I didn't touch her," I said, my voice calm and steady.
"She's like this and you're still making excuses?" Michael snapped.
Evelyn, tears streaming down her face, gathered up the broken pieces.
"Michael, just let it go. Don't blame Claire. She's hurting, so I get why she might have pushed me," Evelyn said.
Michael spun around, jabbing his finger so close to my face I could feel the heat of his anger.
"Apologize," he demanded, his voice sharp and unyielding.
I straightened my suitcase.
"Move," I said, my voice cold and unyielding.
"Apologize!" Michael barked, his voice harsh and unforgiving.
Two neighbors poked their heads out, curious about the commotion.
Evelyn's sobs grew even louder, her voice echoing down the hallway.
"Claire, I know you think my pottery isn't good enough, like I don't deserve to be in your museum, but I pulled three all-nighters just to make this," Evelyn cried.
Just then, Michael's mother Eleanor Lane walked out of the elevator, carrying a bag of groceries.
When she saw the broken pieces on the floor, her face instantly darkened.
"Claire, are you picking on Evelyn again?" Eleanor snapped.
I met her gaze.
"Just in time, Mrs. Lane. I'm moving out," I said, my voice calm and steady.
Eleanor dropped the groceries by the door.
"Move out? Seriously? You're supposed to get your marriage license tomorrow. You always use breakups to scare people; stop being so dramatic," She snapped.
Michael said, "Mom, she canceled the wedding."
Eleanor froze for a second, then she immediately raised her voice. "Who do you think you are, canceling the wedding? We've already told all our relatives. How are we supposed to save face now?"
"Michael's the one who called off the registration," I replied, keeping my voice steady.
"What's wrong with him looking after Evelyn? They've grown up together, and she's always been frail. If you're so jealous, you'll just bring chaos to our family once you move in," Eleanor shot back.
Evelyn choked back a sob. "Mrs. Lane, please don't blame Claire. It's my fault for coming over."
Eleanor put an arm around her, looking at her with real concern.
"Such a sweet girl, Evelyn. You're always too soft-hearted," she murmured.
I grabbed my suitcase and marched straight toward the door.
Eleanor stepped right in front of me, blocking my exit.
"You're not leaving until you reschedule the wedding and get Evelyn a new ceramic pot. Otherwise, you're not going anywhere," she snapped.
I turned to Michael.
"Is that what you want, too?" I asked.
He didn't even look at me, his eyes fixed on the shards in Evelyn's hands.
"Apologize first," he said, his voice cold and unyielding.
I pulled out my phone and opened up the living room security footage.
I'd set it up the day I moved in, and Michael always said it was a hassle; so he never bothered to turn it off.
The footage showed Evelyn letting go of the pot herself.
The pot fell straight down and hit the floor.
The neighbors at the door were craning their necks, trying to get a better look.
Eleanor's face went from pale to flushed, her expression shifting between embarrassment and anger.
Evelyn's sobs cut off mid-breath, her face frozen in shock.
I put my phone away.
"So, am I still supposed to pay for it?" I asked.
Michael lowered his voice, his tone sharp and accusing. "When did you get so good at playing people?"
I almost laughed out loud.
"I set up the camera to keep out thieves; who knew it'd catch you two first?" I shot back.
Eleanor's face flushed with anger and embarrassment.
"Only someone with something to hide would put cameras in their own house," she snapped.
I rolled my suitcase out the door.
This time, nobody tried to stop me.