The day we argued, she left cold medicine on my car.

I chased to the pharmacy entrance and heard her on the phone with a man. The tone was sticky, like she just pulled it out of a jar of sugar, a sound I had never heard from her before.
She said the medicine was bought, don’t come to pick me up, I’ll take a taxi back myself.
After hanging up, she turned around and bumped into me, her face turning pale.
I handed her the medicine. I said this brand isn’t good, I’ll exchange it for another one.
She took it without saying anything. I asked, who is that person.
She said he’s a colleague.
I said you used my car, my gas, my weekend, to buy cold medicine for another man, and then he told you to take a taxi back by yourself.
She didn’t say anything.
I said the biggest obstacle in your relationship isn’t me, it’s him—he wouldn’t even dare to come pick up a box of cold medicine.
You don’t even dare to tell the truth.
I took out my phone, flipped to the confirmation letter for the final payment from the wedding planning company sent yesterday, took a screenshot, opened her chat window, and sent it over.
I said I originally wanted to discuss the wedding flowers with you, but now there’s no need.
The next day, I sent her a screenshot of the refund, along with a message: You don’t have to pay back the medicine.
This box of cold medicine is my gift to him.
The weather is dry, tell him to drink more hot water.