The Camping Trap

My name is Christina Wilson. In the third year of my marriage to Rory Lincoln, the peaceful life I believed in shattered completely that afternoon. That day, I had arranged to meet my best friend for afternoon tea downtown. Just as I reached the garage entrance, I saw my white luxury car being driven out of the villa community. It wasn't Rory Lincoln driving, but his assistant, Susan Temple. In the passenger seat and back seats, several young men and women I didn't recognize were crammed in, all smiling boldly. That car was the coming-of-age gift my father gave me on my eighteenth birthday. I've always cherished it. Even when Rory borrows it, I constantly remind him not to let anyone else touch it. I immediately called the bodyguards, instructing them to follow the car closely and ensure it was recovered without a scratch. My best friend advised me to stay calm; perhaps Rory Lincoln had allowed it. I shook my head. Rory knew how much this car meant to me; he would never let his assistant take it out and mess around without permission. Less than an hour later, the bodyguard called. They found the car on an abandoned road in the suburban area. When I got there, all I saw was a wrecked car. The front was dented, the headlights shattered, the body covered in scratches, and even the rims were bent. Susan Temple and her friends were crouching by the roadside, panic on their faces, yet still shifting blame onto each other. "Mrs. Wilson, I'm sorry. I just wanted to take your car for a spin—I didn't expect anything to happen..." Susan Temple saw me and immediately rushed over, her voice deliberately laced with feigned hurt. I ignored her and simply instructed the bodyguard, "Tow the car to the repair shop. Make sure it's restored to its original condition, and charge the costs to my account." Susan was momentarily stunned, seemingly not expecting me to be so decisive. She quickly added, "Mrs. Wilson, we're here now—without a car, we can't get back..." I cast her a cold glance. "Your problems are none of my concern." After saying that, I turned and got into my other car, leaving them with a cold back view. The suburban area is remote, without public transportation, and it's very hard to catch a taxi. I could picture how awkward they must have looked, having to walk for hours just to get back to the city. But I don't think I went too far. Driving someone else's car without permission, and causing such serious damage—this is not something an apology can simply erase. When Rory Lincoln came home that night, his expression was unpleasant. I knew Susan Temple must have already called him. "Christina, didn't you go too far today?" Rory Lincoln sat beside me, his tone tinged with reproach. I paused with the book in my hand and looked up at him. "Too far?" "Susan is just a young girl, caught up in a moment of playfulness when she drove your car." Rory defended Susan, his voice filled with indulgence. "She didn't mean to damage the car. Leaving her stranded in the suburbs—isn't that a bit harsh?" A chill ran down my spine. He didn't ask why Susan took the car, nor the extent of the damage—it was me he accused of being petty. "Rory, that's my car." I said carefully, "She took it without permission, and that's how it got damaged." "I didn't make her pay for it; I just told her to figure out how to bring herself back. That was already quite lenient." "But Susan was crying, saying you were deliberately making things difficult for her." Rory frowned, his tone tinged with impatience. "She's my assistant. For my sake, you should forgive her this once." I looked at this man who was both familiar and strange to me and suddenly found it all ridiculous. We've been married for three years, yet he still can't distinguish right from wrong and blindly favors another woman. "I won't forgive her." After saying that, I got up and returned to the bedroom, closing the door behind me. Outside the door, Rory Lincoln's sigh came through, laced with obvious displeasure. That night, we slept in separate rooms.