"Maybe he didn't even realize it himself…" Mom said.

"For three months? How could he not feel it if the performance was that bad? He was still using that laptop to edit videos and play games, wasn't he?" I shot back.

That shut her up. Her expression darkened immediately.

"Michael, do you really have to fall out with Joe over a small amount like this?" she asked coldly.

As I looked up at Mom's disapproving expression, a deep sense of sadness washed over me.

"Mom, are you seriously telling me 7,000 dollars is just a small amount to you?"

"You make over 2,000 dollars a month. Is it really worth all this trouble for just 7,000 dollars? Joe just started working, and he barely earns anything. If you make him pay that much, you're basically ruining his life," she said.

For a moment, it felt like I couldn't breathe.

"Mom, that laptop cost 7,800 dollars, split into 12 installments of about 650 dollars a month. I'm still paying the loan, and now the laptop is ruined. Why shouldn't he be held responsible?"

Mom took a deep breath and softened her tone. "I know it's not easy for you, but Joe is your cousin. I just worry you'll end up damaging the relationship. Alice dotes on him the most. If you do this, how are we supposed to face each other in the future? What will people think?"

"What will people think?" I repeated.

"Exactly. They'll say you're unreasonable and making a big deal about money with your own family," she said.

"He destroyed my property first," I said through clenched teeth. "If I let this go, what's next? My camera? My car? Or would he just borrow money and never pay it back like it's nothing?"

"Why are you being so stubborn?" she snapped.

I cut her off. "Enough. You don't need to be involved in this anymore."

I said nothing more, turned away, and headed to my room.

At 2:00 pm the next afternoon, we met at Starlux Cafe. Mom insisted on coming along, saying she was afraid Joe and I would fight.

Joe showed up 30 minutes late, and he wasn't alone.

Mom's sister, Alice Bennett, was with him.

When our eyes met, Joe's expression gave nothing away except impatience, edged with open provocation.

Aunt Alice frowned, as if I were the one being unreasonable.

As soon as Joe sat down, he snapped, "Mike, did you bring me here just to put me on trial in person?"

"I just want to get things straight," I replied.

Joe looked agitated. "What's there to straighten out? I already told you I didn't swap anything!"

I raised a brow. "Then how did every single internal component get replaced?"

Joe's expression darkened. "What are you implying? That I did it on purpose? Do you think I have nothing better to do?"

"Then tell me, how did it end up like this?" I asked.

"How should I know?" he shouted. "I used it normally. It crashed once, I took it to a shop downstairs for a system reinstall, and that was the end of it!"

"Which shop? What's the name?" I pressed.

"I told you, I don't remember! It's just some tiny crappy shop. Who remembers names like that?" he shot back.

I slid the inspection report across the table.

He glanced at it and didn't even reach for it.

"I'm not looking at that. I don't understand it," Joe said flatly.

"It's an official diagnostic report with the company seal," I said evenly. "The CPU, RAM, SSD, and GPU core have all been replaced with low-end secondhand parts."

"Yeah, right," he said, scoffing lightly. "Do you really believe everything a repair shop says? They're just trying to scam you."

"This is from an authorized service center, not some random shop," I said firmly.

"Sure, whatever you say," he replied, crossing his arms. "You've already decided I'm guilty. What's the point of me saying anything?"

At that moment, Aunt Alice spoke up.

"Mike, Joe would never do something like that. He's not in tech, and he doesn't understand hardware at all. It must've been the repair shop that messed with it."

I turned to her and said calmly, "Aunt Alice, he chose the shop. He says he doesn't remember which one. The laptop was in his hands for three months, and when it came back, everything inside was replaced. Shouldn't he be responsible for that?"

"Responsible for what?" Joe snapped, leaning forward. "Do you have proof? Did you see me do it?"

"The proof is simple," I said calmly. "The laptop was fine when I lent it to you, and it came back damaged. Time, possession, cause and effect—it's all crystal clear."

"Clear my ass!" he shouted, suddenly standing up. "I'm telling you now, I'm not paying a single cent! Go ahead, take me to court! I want to see what they can do to me."

"Joe!"

Aunt Alice grabbed Joe's arm, trying to stop him.

"Mom, stay out of it!"

Joe shook her off and pointed straight at me.

"I finally see what you're really like. Over a broken laptop and 7,000 dollars, you're willing to cut your own cousin off? All you care about is money, isn't it?"

I looked at his face twisted by anger and suddenly felt like I was staring at a stranger.

"This isn't about money," I said calmly. "It's about principle. You borrowed something from me, you damaged it, and you pay for it. That's basic responsibility."

"What did I damage?" he shot back. "The laptop still turns on, doesn't it? It still works, doesn't it?"

"Works?" I opened the laptop and launched Photoshop, then imported an image. "Look for yourself."

The progress bar crawled forward. The fans roared to life, and the noise was so loud that customers at the next table turned to look at us.

"A video that used to render in ten minutes now takes two hours. Software that used to open instantly now freezes for three minutes. You call this usable?"

Joe's face turned red, then pale.

"That's not my fault! It was the repair shop!"

"You chose that repair shop," I said.

"I didn't know they'd swap the parts!" he shot back.

"Then why didn't you tell me it was repaired? Why didn't you tell me the shop's name? And why did you say 'it's fine' every single time I asked?" I demanded.

His mouth opened, but no words came out.

Aunt Alice stepped in quickly.

"Joe probably just didn't want to worry you…"

"Didn't want to worry me?" I repeated, laughing under my breath. "Or he just didn't want me to find out and make him pay?"

A trace of unease crossed Mom's face.

"Watch how you speak…" she murmured.

"Mom, I'm stating facts," I replied evenly.

"You—" she began.

"Enough," Joe snapped, cutting her off.

He pulled out his phone and shoved a transfer record toward me. "Look! 850 dollars! That's what I paid for a system reinstall. If I'd replaced parts, you really think it would only cost this much?"

I glanced at the screen briefly. "A system reinstall usually costs 50 to 100 dollars. 850 dollars is more than enough to buy a set of used low-end components."

Joe froze.

"Michael Smith!" Aunt Alice interrupted sharply. "Watch your tone. Joe is your cousin. Are you really trying to back him into a corner like this?"

"Aunt Alice," I said, holding her gaze. "Am I really the one backing him into a corner, or is he the one forcing me here? A laptop worth over 7,000 dollars in hardware has been reduced to barely 300 dollars in junk. That's a 7,000-dollar loss. Shouldn't he be held responsible for that?"

Aunt Alice retorted, "That's not how you talk! We're family. Why can't we handle this properly?"

"I did try to handle this properly," I replied. "Three months ago, I lent him the laptop. A month later, I asked when he'd return it. Two months later, I asked if anything was wrong with it. Yesterday, I called him after getting the diagnostic report."

I looked at her calmly.

"When exactly did he ever give me a proper answer?"

Aunt Alice went silent, clearly caught off guard by my response.

Joe grabbed his bag. "Mom, let's go. There's no point talking to people like this."

He turned and walked out without hesitation.

Aunt Alice gave me a complicated look. She hesitated for a moment, then hurried after him.

Across from me, Mom sat in silence, frowning deeply.

After a long pause, she finally said, "You were too impulsive."

I looked at her.

"Mom, what exactly was impulsive about what I said? What did I say wrong?"

Mom let out a sigh.

"The way you spoke… How could Joe possibly admit he was wrong after that?"

"He's the one at fault. Am I supposed to kneel down and beg him to admit it?" I shot back.

"That's not what I meant…" Mom said weakly.

I looked straight at her.

"Then what did you mean? Since I was a kid, you always told me to let it go whenever Joe broke my things or failed to return money he borrowed from me. As long as he said he didn't mean it, that was the end of it.

"But this time, I lost 7,000 dollars because he swapped out my laptop parts. What about next time? If he hits someone with a car, is he just going to say 'I didn't mean it' and walk away?"

Mom frowned deeply.

"It's not the same…"

"It's the same at its core," I said as I stood up. "When you do something wrong, you take responsibility for it. That's the most basic principle of being an adult, and yet he's gone over 20 years without ever learning it. If no one else has taught him, then I will."