Hidden Desires - Family Secrets-Chapter 182 Did you tell her the time? Part1

I wasn’t just upset; I was deeply repulsed.

It’s not that I have a Madonna-whore complex, but the thought of Betty cheating after remarrying, especially with my own son, churned my stomach in indescribable ways.

Whenever Betty came near, vivid images of her and Michael, entwined naked and rolling around together, invaded my mind, sparking intense disgust.

Her touch tightened my skin in revulsion.

Initially, I relegated myself to the couch, but every morning, I’d find Betty asleep on the floor beside it.

Her persistence led to a severe cold, and reluctantly, I returned to our shared bed, determined to avoid any physical contact.

She seemed like a hedgehog, bristling at my slightest touch.

Despite this, Betty cared for me without complaint, always trying to start conversations to bridge the gap between us.

I could feel her efforts and the strain it put on her, realizing she felt my aversion.

Despite my resolve to reconcile, her touch still couldn’t comfort me.

I considered seeking a therapist for myself.

During these two months, Michael was under Luna’s care, undergoing intensive psychological therapy.

The regimen included counseling, suggestive therapy, and psychotropic drugs, which were harsh enough to cause nosebleeds.

It pained me, but I knew short-term pain was better than long-term suffering.

Luna also enrolled him in numerous camps, tours, and even international study programs to engage him with the world.

The top psychological teams crafted the best treatment plan for him.

Whenever Luna updated me on his progress, I felt a mix of relief and hope, easing the guilt towards Laura.

Michael’s therapy reached a critical point; his issues with Betty and me were central.

He harbored hatred towards me and a twisted love for Betty.

Addressing this was essential, and Luna recently discussed it with me.

I dreaded facing Michael too soon, especially involving Betty.

Ideally, I wished they would never meet again, but was that realistic?

As I sat at the dinner table, pondering, I knew I had to decide how to discuss this with Betty.

Another dilemma was whether to reveal Michael’s true identity to Betty.

Honesty is crucial in marriage, but if I kept this secret, with only Luna and Michael knowing, could it stay hidden?

If Michael disclosed it, how would Betty react?

Would she mind my past with Laura?

If it had been a simple fling, even with intimacy, Betty might cope.

But knowing Michael was my son, after her affair with him, could she accept this reality without reigniting past troubles?

Betty, noticing my silent contemplation during dinner, didn’t dare start a conversation, cautiously serving me in a tense silence that lasted throughout the meal.

I still hadn’t resolved anything by the time we finished eating.

After dinner, I slumped onto the couch, mindlessly flipping through TV channels.

Watching TV felt like a luxury these days; usually, I’d be fast asleep after meals, exhausted from the day.

Betty finished cleaning up and headed to the bathroom for a shower.

The sound of running water filled the apartment, offering a rare moment of tranquility.

Over the past two months, Betty hadn’t brought up anything about Michael, though I knew she was desperate to know if he was safe.

She treaded lightly around me, both of us skirting the topic.

Sometimes, when she had a moment to herself, she’d stare off into space—probably worrying about Michael, or maybe even missing him.

Betty was sentimental; if she wasn’t concerned about Michael, she wouldn’t be herself.

Another reason she might have been somewhat at ease was because Laura had reassured her about his safety.

As I pondered this, Betty emerged from the shower.

She glanced at me before quietly slipping into the bedroom.

She usually seized any chance to talk with me, trying to strengthen our bond, but sensing my off mood today, she held back.

I sat watching TV, but my mind wasn’t on the show.

Betty entered the bedroom and fell silent.

Normally, she wouldn’t fall asleep until I joined her in bed.

Just being near me, even if we weren’t touching, seemed to comfort her enough to sleep.

I sighed, feeling no interest in the TV, and walked back to the bedroom.

Betty was lying in bed, her breathing uneven.

I’m not one to dither.

Why was I acting so indecisive, like I was afraid of confrontation?

"Michael is coming back in a couple of days," I finally said, though it felt like admitting defeat.

My voice was low, but in the quiet of the bedroom and the stillness of the night, it sounded loud and clear.

I felt the bedsheet tighten beneath me—a sure sign that Betty tensed up at my words, her body’s reaction so intense that even the bedsheet responded.

"Oh..." Betty responded after a pause.

Her voice was breathy, trembling, and her effort to suppress her emotions made her single word sound out of place.

Her breathing grew heavier, almost like she was suffocating.

After two months, we had finally mentioned this sensitive name.

Betty didn’t speak further, but I knew her mind must be in turmoil.

"Don’t you want to know how Michael has been lately?" I pressed, feeling the need to explain why Michael was coming home.

"I just want to live peacefully with you. Everyone else doesn’t matter," Betty said softly but firmly.

Perhaps she still cared about Michael, but she had to choose, and she chose me.

"Michael has been staying with Luna, receiving psychological counseling. His childhood issues have left him somewhat twisted. He’s been in therapy to better his future, and you and I are currently his biggest hurdles. His return is also about treating this issue."

This was probably the longest explanation I had given Betty in months, intended to clarify things so she wouldn’t misunderstand or jump to conclusions.

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The last thing we needed was more suspicion between us.

"Then... oh..." Betty started to say something but ended with that.

I didn’t have the energy to guess what she meant.

"I’m telling you this to prepare you. Tomorrow, we’ll go see Luna. She’ll fill us in on the details and how we should approach Michael."

After saying this, I closed my eyes to sleep, but Betty’s breathing remained troubled for a long time.

The next day at work, I got a call from Luna.

She invited me to join her and Betty for lunch at her place.

After notifying Betty, I hailed a cab straight to Luna’s lavish villa as soon as my shift ended.

Betty, who usually gets off work before me, was supposed to be inside already.

Yet, there she was, standing at the front door, looking around anxiously, as if caught in a mix of hope and hesitation.

As I stepped out of the cab, Betty greeted me with a tentative smile and stayed close behind me as we approached the villa, her demeanor unusually subdued.

"Did you tell her the time?" Luna asked, eyeing Betty across the dining table where the three of us sat.

I simply nodded, trusting Luna to read between the lines of what was said and what was left unsaid.

"I need to give you a heads-up," Luna continued, her voice tinged with reluctance.

"Michael’s mental health issues are far more severe than you might imagine.

Although the treatment has made significant progress, it hasn’t achieved our goals yet.

We’re letting him stay at home for a while for further treatment.

During this period, don’t show him any coldness.

Offer him warmth and care, let him stop hating and rejecting you, and gradually accept you..."

It seemed Luna believed I should just confine Michael and keep him under watch forever, but for my sake, she was prepared to take a softer approach.

As Luna spoke, Betty’s brow furrowed occasionally, her confusion apparent.

She was clearly out of the loop on these matters.

When the topic came up, her hands, hidden under the table, intertwined nervously.