Denials And Lame Excuses
He scrambled for words, tripping over his own excuses as they fell out in a panicked rush. “I didn’t… I thought it was open!” Daniel stuttered, as though that flimsy claim somehow absolved him. I raised an eyebrow, pretending to be genuinely intrigued. “Oh yeah? And your device just magically guessed my password, huh?” I shot back with a cool shrug. He glanced around, clearly searching for some exit from this verbal corner he’d backed himself into.
Denials And Lame Excuses
The room between us pulsed with awkward silence; he knew it, I knew it—the jig was up, and his excuses weren’t fooling anyone anymore.
Facing The Evidence
With a slow, deliberate smirk, I handed him my pièce de résistance—a neatly printed packet bursting with dates, times, and usage totals, each page an unflinching testament to his sneaky little habit. His fingers twitched as he snatched it from me, flipping through the sheets like they were acid burning his skin. With every turn, his face paled a shade lighter, the weight of each record pressing down on him.
Facing The Evidence
Words of apology swirled behind his clenched teeth, but none dared escape. He was cornered in my carefully spun web of proof, and there was no escape left for him now.
