Hidden Desires - Family Secrets-Chapter 151 If she was genuinely remorseful, then... Part1

As I stepped out of the hotel, my mind was a whirlwind of confusion and turmoil.

I had forgotten the hotel’s computer, but even if I had remembered, I would have chosen to go home.

After all, checking things at home always felt more real.

I waited a long time, but no one answered the door.

I raised my hand to knock again, thinking that if there was no response this time, I would use my key to enter.

"Thud, thud, thud." I knocked for the third time, putting a lot of force into it.

The sound echoed down the hallway.

At that moment, my heart was racing.

I was listening intently for any sign of movement inside while preparing to turn and run if necessary.

But after a long, tense wait, there was still no sound.

Finally, I couldn’t keep my composure any longer.

I took out my keys, ready to unlock the door.

As I inserted the key into the lock, a chilling thought crossed my mind: what if I was about to walk into a scene like that night again?

Could it be that Betty and Michael were so engrossed in making love that they hadn’t heard my knocks?

I shook my head, trying to dismiss these extreme thoughts.

Betty and I had weathered many storms together over the years.

Even if something had happened between her and Michael that went beyond a familial relationship, she would still love me more, at least I hoped so.

Changing one’s heart takes time, and the brief moments they had spent together wouldn’t suffice for her to love Michael more than me.

If Betty could engage in an affair with Michael while I was missing, it would mean she truly fell for him, beyond redemption.

"Click." The sound was soft but unmistakable—the sound of the lock disengaging.

As the door unlocked, my breath halted.

The door cracked open slightly, and a familiar scent assaulted my senses, bringing a sharp pang of pain that almost made me want to cry.

I entered more cautiously than ever before.

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The door opened to a dimly lit room, the air filled with a familiar but now murky scent.

I listened intently for any sounds, but aside from the noise outside, the house was eerily silent.

I hid behind the door for a while, confirming there was no sound at all.

Betty and Michael were not home.

I slowly moved away from the door, surveying the room.

It was pitch dark, but thankfully, the streetlights outside cast enough light for me to make out the contours of the room.

The living room was a mess, clothes and bags thrown on the sofa, and various items scattered all over the floor.

It looked as if it had been ransacked.

This was strange; Betty was meticulous about cleanliness, always keeping our home spotless.

If it weren’t for our photos still hanging on the walls, I might have thought I was in the wrong house.

I moved to the bedroom I shared with Betty.

The bed was neatly made, and our wedding photo still hung on the wall.

The wardrobe doors were wide open, and it looked disheveled, as if Betty had been searching for something in a hurry.

I then went to Michael’s bedroom.

Both rooms had their doors open.

Entering Michael’s room, I was again struck by the disorder.

Books were strewn across his desk, and his bed was a mess, the bedding just tossed about without care.

I quickly averted my eyes from Michael’s bed.

Just days ago, I had seen Betty pinned down on that bed by Michael, their bodies entwined in passionate lovemaking.

The memory of that scene made my heart ache profoundly.

I left Michael’s bedroom and settled onto the couch, my mind swirling with questions.

Where could Betty and Michael have gone?

Their phones were still off, and the house looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in days.

The chaos at home was a clear sign that things had been turned upside down.

Sitting there, I was overwhelmed with feelings of sadness, pain, and confusion.

There was also a trace of worry.

I never thought I’d come back to this familiar home.

The scenes I witnessed that night, the sounds I heard, still echoed in my mind.

Leaning against the couch, I felt utterly lost.

Maybe Betty and Michael were out looking for me, or perhaps they were enjoying a romantic getaway.

But I quickly dismissed the latter thought.

A colleague had mentioned that Betty was frantic about my disappearance, which showed she still cared deeply about me.

Time ticked by slowly; it was now 10:57 PM.

If Betty and Michael were out looking for me, they should have been back by now.

I pondered this for a long time, my anxiety mounting.

I had been so wrapped up in my worries that I’d forgotten to stay alert.

If Betty and Michael returned now, I needed to hide immediately to avoid a confrontation.

I wasn’t ready to face them yet.

My backside was starting to go numb from sitting too long, so I stood up and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Looking out, I reminisced about every moment I had shared with Betty.

But then, a surprising thought struck me.

Seeing everything in the house and recalling what my colleagues had said, I felt a pang of sympathy for Betty.

Despite my illness and becoming virtually incapacitated, she never showed any disdain towards me.

She had always been supportive, never showing any disgust, always by my side.

Without Betty’s support, I couldn’t have made it this far; she and this home were my only motivations.

But now, Betty had made a mistake, perhaps her only mistake, and I had left her.

Was I right to sever ties with her over this one issue?

How I wished for an impartial person to be here to offer their advice.

Betty had stood by me through thick and thin, and now I was ready to leave her over a single incident.

Was this really the right thing to do?

Was this truly manly?

I shook my head, trying to view the situation from an outsider’s perspective.

If I were a psychologist and I were listening to a patient recount these events, I would advise them to give their spouse a chance.

After all, I had been observing the whole situation secretly, never confronting Betty or seeing her reaction.

A marriage, a partnership of many years, shouldn’t be discarded lightly.

If Betty was willing to repent, she deserved a chance.

Everyone makes mistakes.

Thinking as an observer, I realized my heart was indeed wavering.

Yes, Betty had erred, betraying our marriage and our love.

But from the time I met Betty until now, this seemed to be her only mistake.

She had always been kind to me, while I had been a burden to her.

During my period of impotence, she remained faithful, and now this incident with Michael had occurred.

Was the fault entirely hers?

If it had been another woman, could she have endured to the end?

Didn’t all the kindness Betty had shown me deserve at least one chance for forgiveness?

I hadn’t confronted Betty directly, hadn’t seen her reaction.

If she was genuinely remorseful, then...

I took a deep breath, feeling truly lost.

I wanted someone to talk to, but there was no one I could share this secret with.