During this period, Ava Johnson was unusually quiet.

She didn't post any videos in the group, only shared her own stuff. Not having to write an analysis report felt a bit strange to me.

When I arrived at the station, she sent a voice call. Her voice was eerily calm:

I asked Ava, "Out of storage space? Why aren't you posting?"

"Will you stop posting altogether? Saves me the trouble of writing those darn reports."

Ava huffed back, "In your dreams. She's doing an internship. She'll continue when she gets back."

I inexplicably felt relieved and replied, "I'll be waiting."

During the time Ava wasn't posting, I went back and watched all the past videos.

There were quite a few that Ava had posted at the beginning which I had ignored and missed due to resistance. Deep down, I felt a tinge of regret.

I thought if I could go back to that day, I would open them without hesitation.

After returning to the country, I bought a new car to reward myself.

But on the very first day on the road, parked by the curb for just a while, it got hit. The other party was entirely at fault and had no objections.

I felt bad for my new car and didn't want to deal with it.

So, I had Assistant Reed handle it for me. But when Officer Grant sent me the receipt that day, after reading it, I changed my mind.

It was Quinn Foster who hit the car.

She must have quite the strength to not see clearly at night and cause tens of thousands of dollars in damages.

More than the car, I strangely felt sorry for her.

Those tens of thousands must've been terrifying for her.

I didn't add her contact or call her. Afraid she'd really lose sleep over it.

But I did want to reach out to her.

Luckily, I got her email from Ava Johnson.

I split the car damage bill into dozens of pieces, sending one each day.

My name was in bold on the bill. The first thing she'd see when she opened it.

I've remembered you for four years, probably won't forget you in a lifetime.

So, Quinn Foster, please, get to know me.

(The End)