Double Betrayal

The air in the storage room was thick with the smell of dust and old things. I crouched among a pile of cardboard boxes, searching for the graduation album when my fingertips suddenly grazed something cold and hard. It wasn't a wooden photo frame, nor a cloth-bound notebook. I pushed aside an old sweater draped on top and uncovered a silver metal case, worn at the corners, its surface dusted with a thin layer of grime and faintly musty. It was an old DV camera. I paused, mind racing — we never had anything like this at home. Most likely, Ryan Lewis brought it along when he moved here, forgotten in a corner of the storage room. After searching for the charging cable for a long time, I finally found a suitable one in the drawer of the TV cabinet. Plugged into the socket, the red power light flickered on. I sat on the floor holding the DV camera, my fingertips absentmindedly tracing its cold surface. Ten minutes later, I pressed the power button. The screen flickered a few times, then surprisingly lit up. No complicated menus or extra files—just a single unedited video. The camera begins by pointing at the ceiling, swaying so dizzyingly that the faint sparkle of a crystal chandelier comes into view—it must be inside a hotel. Then, the camera slowly tilts downward. Two faces, impossibly familiar, suddenly came into view, catching me completely off guard. Ryan Lewis's chin rested on Melody Scott's shoulder, his profile soft and gentle. His voice came through the DV's speaker, muffled yet clear: "Melody, this isn't right." Melody smiled, dimples deepening on both cheeks, her fingers lightly tracing his back as she replied with a hint of playful reproach, "What's wrong? She doesn't know." The two in the frame held each other tightly; Melody Scott's lips, painted bright red, brushed against Ryan Lewis's white collar, leaving a vivid stain. My hand gripping the DV cam began to shake violently, the screen's light casting a burning glow on my face.