My Girlfriend Was Making Out in My Supercar, and I Interrupted: "Cheating's Fine, But You'll Have to Pay for the Car Damage"

"I was handing out flyers when I spotted my girlfriend, Sophie, making out with the campus heartthrob, Henry, in a flashy sports car. Her clothes were disheveled, and the scene was anything but innocent. I knocked on the car window. Henry glanced at Sophie and asked, "Who's that?" Sophie, lying in his arms, smirked and said, "Just some pathetic loser. If you want, I'll break up with him right now." She kissed him again, got out of the car without even sparing me a glance, and walked away. Henry licked his lips—where Sophie had just kissed him—and sneered at me. "Leave, dude. A beauty like her only belongs to guys who can handle her." I stayed calm and asked, "I don't care about the girlfriend. But tell me—why are you sitting in my car?" The smug look on his face vanished. He stared at me, confused. "What do you mean, your car?" I opened the glove compartment and pulled out the registration. "See this? My name's on it. So, what are you doing in my car? You planning to steal it? Should I call the cops?" Henry's face turned bright red. He scrambled out of the car and stammered, "Don't call the police! My dad owns a repair shop. I saw this car parked at the shop and thought it looked cool, so I borrowed it for a drive. Please, don't report me!" I raised my voice. "Borrowed? This is stealing! Since when does a repair shop let people take customers' cars for joyrides?" Hanging his head, he muttered, "I'm sorry, man." I sighed, trying to stay composed. "Let's check the car for damage first." He stayed silent while I inspected it. Sure enough, the hood had a noticeable dent. I glared at him. "What happened here?" He panicked and quickly blurted, "It wasn't me! Your girlfriend sat on the hood to take selfies. She even posted them all over her social media—there's your proof!" I pulled out my phone to check, but her posts were nowhere to be found. Henry handed me his phone. "She blocked you. Look at my feed." Sure enough, there it was—photos of Sophie posing provocatively on the hood of my car, captioned with suggestive emojis. I smirked. "Well, these photos will make great evidence. You two better get ready for a court summons." Henry's face turned pale. "How much will this cost me?" I shrugged. "Probably around $15,000." His jaw dropped. "But it was her who caused the damage! Why do I have to pay?" I rolled my eyes. "You don't know how the law works, huh? You were both involved, so you're both responsible. Looks like your dad's repair shop won't be making a profit this year." The so-called campus heartthrob—a grown man—burst into tears. "That stupid girl! I told her this car had a carbon fiber hood! High-end cars like this need to warm up before you can sit on them. But no, she jumped on it right away to take her stupid selfies! My parents work so hard, and now I'm screwed because of her!" I climbed into my car and called an appraiser to assess the damage. I didn't have the patience to keep ...