22
My mom's voice sounded gentle and she looked very mild.
But anyone familiar with her could tell that she was getting angry.
I took a look at Oliver with my fork in my hand. He seemed to be a little apologetic, but he was slightly smiling.
Oliver was pretending to be innocent.
But I couldn't get angry.
It seemed that I had always been like this when facing Oliver.
Looking at my mom's serious face and Timothy's disappearing smile, I racked my brain and wanted to make excuses.
"Um... A few months ago, the neighborhood I lived in was too noisy because of road maintenance. So I couldn't sleep well at night, and I moved to Oliver's and stayed there for several days. After the road in the community was built, I moved back."
I emphasized the last three words.
My mom glanced at me, took a sip of orange juice, and said lightly, "You'd better be."
I didn't dare to say anything more, so I lowered my head and silently ate my food.