“No,” Emily said.
“His sentence justified walking out.
The records only prove that the story you were told about me was false.”
She emailed Patricia the payment summary, copies of the rent transfers, and a spreadsheet showing how expenses had actually been divided.
Patricia opened the first document while they were still on the phone.
Her voice changed.
“You paid the full rent in March and April?”
“Yes.”
“Michael said he had savings.”
“He had a repair bill and pride.
I protected both.”
Patricia did not answer.
Emily continued, “I never asked him to announce what I did.
I only expected him not to stand beside you while you implied I was using him.”
The line remained quiet long enough for Emily to hear Patricia turning pages.
Then Patricia said, “I need to speak with my son.”
“You should.”
Emily ended the call.
At the apartment, Michael was trying to order dinner when Patricia arrived.
She walked in without knocking, carrying two grocery bags and the printed payment records Emily had sent.
Michael looked at the pages in her hand.
“She sent you that?”
“Why didn’t you tell me she covered the rent?”
He frowned.
“That was temporary.”
“Two months is not nothing.”
“I paid her back in other ways.”
“How?”
Michael opened his mouth but did not answer.
Patricia set the documents on the table.
For the first time, she noticed the calendar on the refrigerator.
Michael’s dentist appointment, his aunt’s follow-up procedure, the car registration deadline, and the electric bill due date were all written in Emily’s neat handwriting.
“You know about Aunt Linda’s surgery next week, right?” she asked.
Michael glanced at the calendar.
“Of course.”
“What day?”
He looked again.
Patricia’s expression tightened.
She unpacked the groceries, then asked where he kept the large skillet.
Michael opened three cabinets before finding it.
“Emily rearranged everything,” he muttered.
Patricia said nothing, but her eyes moved through the apartment differently now.
She saw the dead space where Emily’s belongings had been.
She saw the unopened mail, the empty soap dispenser, and the laundry basket already overflowing even though Emily had been gone less than a day.
The next morning, Michael woke late because Emily had always set the second alarm when his first one failed.
He left without coffee because he could not find the filters.
At work, he realized his clean blue shirt was still in the washing machine, wet and sour because he had forgotten to move it.
He sent Emily another message.
“Can we please talk?”
She answered, “You can write what you need to say.”
“I didn’t mean you weren’t good enough.
I was telling you what Mom thought.”
“You repeated it because part of you wanted me to hear it.”
He did not respond for an hour.
Then he wrote, “Maybe I wanted you to try harder.”
