Hidden Desires - Family Secrets-Chapter 132 What sins had I committed?

The door creaked open, and my heart was pounding in my chest.

As the familiar scent hit me, the once comforting smell of home now felt alien and terrifying.

I didn’t step inside immediately; instead, I peered into the pitch-black living room.

The house was devoid of any light, and contrary to my fears, there were no sounds of lovemaking or moans.

The silence in the room was eerily oppressive.

I tiptoed in, my footsteps barely audible.

I realized then that my legs had gone numb, not knowing how long I had been frozen at the doorway.

Once inside, I quickly shut the door behind me, cutting off the sliver of light from the hallway.

The house felt abandoned.

Both Betty and Michael’s bedroom doors were open, and though I couldn’t see clearly, the beds were neatly made, with no sign of anyone.

I breathed a sigh of relief, finally allowing myself to breathe loudly as I closed the door again.

As I was about to change my shoes out of habit, I paused.

Where were Betty and Michael?

By this time, they should have been asleep.

Where could they be on a night like this?

Today was my anniversary with Betty, and I hadn’t come home.

Could it be that Michael had taken my place, celebrating our anniversary with Betty?

Were they out having a candlelit dinner or perhaps... in a hotel room?

I didn’t take off my shoes or turn on the lights; instead, I headed straight for the bedroom I shared with Betty.

Upon entering, I flicked on the light, greeted by the familiar setting.

Everything was just as I had left it.

The only change was the bed linens; they were fresh.

Our wedding photo still hung on the wall.

Betty’s nightgown was neatly folded on the bed, her scent lingering on the cup, but mine was absent.

After all, it had been two months since I’d been home.

I couldn’t tell if Michael’s scent was on the sheets; I couldn’t distinguish it anymore.

I turned off the bedroom light and walked out.

Next, I went to the bathroom, everything as familiar as ever.

Yes, too familiar.

The last part of the video I saw was of Michael and Betty getting intimate in this very bathroom.

What I had seen digitally was now hauntingly real.

The image of Betty and Michael passionately entwined flashed through my mind, causing my head to spin.

I shook my head to dispel the vision, feeling like it might explode with the thought.

When I opened my eyes again, the apparitions of Betty and Michael had vanished.

I surveyed the bathroom, remembering the day I came home and smelled semen, suggesting Betty and Michael had just been intimate here.

I hadn’t had the courage to continue watching the video last night, so I hadn’t pursued the truth about what happened that night.

My gaze settled on two pieces of underwear hanging in the bathroom.

One was Betty’s lace panties, new and possibly worn many times during my absence.

They were sexy, with only a thick patch at the center, the rest made of lace, revealing her lower abdomen and buttocks, likely showing some pubic hair.

If I had found these panties in Betty’s wardrobe, brand new, I might have thought they were for enticing me upon my return.

But they were washed, indicating she had worn them, not for me...

What caught my attention more was the other piece of underwear on the rack—a pair of men’s briefs, right next to Betty’s, significantly larger.

The fabric in the center was expanded to accommodate a man’s genitals.

I had never paid much attention to Michael’s underwear before, unsure if he and Betty had shopped for them together.

In a typical family, a mother’s underwear wouldn’t be mixed with her child’s, even on the same drying rack, they wouldn’t be touching.

The edges of the two pairs of underwear even overlapped, a necessity given the limited space on the rack.

I could almost see Betty and Michael cuddled up together, Betty’s head resting on Michael’s shoulder, his arm wrapped around her slim waist.

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They were as close as these undergarments, parts of their bodies overlapping...

I shook my head again, and the phantom images slowly faded.

I forced my gaze away from the underwear.

Whether it was the setting triggering emotions or just fatigue causing hallucinations, I didn’t rummage through the trash can.

My heart couldn’t take another blow; I feared what else I might find that could suffocate me.

I left the bathroom, turned off the light, and everything was plunged back into darkness.

I glanced towards Michael’s room, undoubtedly the source of my greatest pain.

From Betty’s first violation to her first true loss of innocence, it all happened in Michael’s room.

I dreaded entering, fearing the flood of memories, but I couldn’t let it go.

Gritting my teeth, I walked towards Michael’s room.

The door was ajar.

I turned on the light; everything was as it had always been.

The neatly arranged desk, the expensive sneakers on the floor—all gifts from Betty.

Each pair was more expensive than any of mine.

It wasn’t that I couldn’t afford them; I just couldn’t justify the expense.

I never let Betty buy me anything too pricey, but I spared no expense for them.

I didn’t want outsiders to think I was stingy, nor did I want Michael to see me that way.

Money is earned and saved...

Michael’s bed was neatly made, and whether by coincidence or not, the mattress was the same one from the day Betty was defiled.

It was like a cruel joke, and ironically, there were pajamas on Michael’s bed.

Two sets.

One for Michael, one for Betty.

One for a man, one for a woman.

This room had become their love nest.

Countless times they had slept together here, the floor still bearing traces of their lovemaking.

Maybe it was my imagination, but I always sensed a whiff of hormones in Michael’s room.

Betty, being meticulous, would have cleaned the room spotlessly after each encounter, leaving no trace.

But I could still feel it, perhaps just a psychological effect.

Seeing all this, I no longer needed to search for anything else.

I walked out of Michael’s room, defeated.

My heart was dead; there was no need for discussions or confessions, and this anniversary didn’t need to be celebrated.

Betty didn’t answer my call; she must be in a lively place or had her phone on silent.

Either way, it meant she had found someone to replace me on this day.

The pain from the video and the agony of coming home mingled together, like the bitterest medicine, tormenting my soul.

I wanted to cry, to collapse on the floor and sob...

I wanted to leave this house forever and never return.

But before I left, there was one thing I needed to take.

Not any possessions or clothes, but my parents’ memorial tablets.

They were the only things I intended to take with me.

The tablets were kept on the balcony, separated from the living room by a partition.

I opened the door, stepped onto the balcony, and closed it behind me.

Before leaving, I wanted to spend a moment with my parents, kneeling before their memorial tablets.

I wanted to confess, though I didn’t know what I had done wrong.

I had built everything on my own, without parents, making a home and a career.

Fate had rendered me infertile, a broken man.

Now my wife had thrown herself into another’s arms.

What sins had I committed?

As I was repenting before my parents’ memorial, I heard the sound of the living room door being unlocked next to the balcony...