Hidden Desires - Family Secrets-Chapter 184 She seemed unsure of how to face him Part1

I never told her about Michael’s revenge.

Revealing it would expose our relationship, and I feared the impact on her.

After all, sometimes ignorance is bliss.

She didn’t need to know, so in her heart, Michael remained an immature child.

She blamed herself for not raising him right, thinking her leniency led him astray.

She took all the blame, believing Michael was innocent and that she had failed him.

"I’m sorry, I’m so sorry... I don’t know how to help you... But I believe in his character, he would never hurt you. I just hope you grow up healthy... If there’s a next life, I’ll make it up to you, fulfill your wishes..."

Betty caressed Michael’s photo, tears streaming down as she spoke to herself.

Then, she pressed the photo against her chest, holding it close to her heart.

After a long cry, she finally opened her eyes, her clarity restored.

She placed the photo back on the desk, but turned it face down.

Wiping her eyes, she began to tidy the room.

Every time she picked up Michael’s shoes or clothes, a flash of memory struck her.

Cleaning Michael’s bed took the longest as she reminisced.

Eventually, she bit her lip and shook her head, as if to cast out the memories.

Once everything was in order, Betty grabbed the cleaning supplies and left Michael’s room, her eyes betraying an indescribable emotion.

Throughout the cleaning, her sadness was evident, an expression I had never seen when I came home.

At that moment, I was puzzled.

What did she mean by those words she said while holding the photo?

For some reason, after watching that video, I felt even more uneasy...

In the following days, Betty seemed to return to normal, meticulously cleaning Michael’s room daily, spending more time there than in our bedroom or living room.

Sometimes, she would stay in Michael’s room for hours, even once lying on his bed and falling into a deep, peaceful sleep, smiling gently in her dreams.

Was she dreaming of us, or was it her memories with Michael that brought that smile?

I turned off the surveillance footage and leaned back in my chair, pinching the bridge of my nose.

Had I not seen those videos, I might have been more at ease.

But now, my heart was troubled, even worried.

Despite everything, Betty’s longing for Michael was stronger than I had anticipated.

From an outsider’s perspective, her feelings were natural—they had spent so much time together, and she had never been a mother before Michael filled that void, giving her a profound sense of fulfillment.

This mother-son bond was not easily forgotten, especially when their relationship had crossed conventional boundaries, deepening their emotional connection.

But understanding is one thing; I hoped Betty would move on sooner.

I thought two months would be enough, but now it seemed I had overestimated.

Perhaps two years would be more realistic.

But what now?

I had promised Luna that I would bring Michael back in two days.

Could I go back on my word?

If possible, I’d delay it another two years, but would that be fair to Michael’s psychological adjustment?

I was truly caught between a rock and a hard place.

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After work, I still hadn’t figured things out, so I rushed home.

Standing at the front door, I hesitated before quietly unlocking it, trying not to make a sound.

I wanted to see if Betty was still prone to zoning out, but she wasn’t at the dinner table when I opened the door.

It was only after I entered that I saw Betty coming out of the kitchen with a plate of food.

"Is dinner not ready yet?" I asked casually as I took off my shoes, a question that seemed innocent enough.

Usually, dinner was ready by the time I got home, but today, Betty was still setting the table, which was unusual.

I asked nonchalantly, looking down to hide any expression that might give away my concern.

"It’s ready. I just went out to buy some things and got back late," Betty replied cautiously.

Her voice was soft and tinged with nervousness, a familiar and long-missed tone.

It had been absent recently as she had seemed more stable, but it reappeared today, probably due to the news about Michael.

As I sat down to eat, I noticed the ribs Betty had cooked were different tonight.

Usually, her cooking was perfect, but today the ribs were overly dark and slightly burnt, lacking the usual tenderness.

I glanced at Betty, and I caught a flicker of panic in her eyes.

But I said nothing, and she tried to appear calm without offering any explanation.

After dinner, I lay in bed, restless, while Betty’s breathing seemed uneven next to me.

Though we shared the same bed, our minds were clearly occupied with different thoughts.

I hadn’t seen Betty space out tonight, which should have reassured me, but instead, I felt more uneasy.

Her being late with dinner might seem trivial, but it was the first time it had happened, and it was too out of the ordinary.

Moreover, the overcooked ribs seemed like a sign that her mind was elsewhere.

The next day at work, I took a moment to review the surveillance footage from the time Betty got home.

She did arrive later than usual, her arms full of shopping bags.

During cooking, her demeanor was unstable; she seemed distracted, lost in thought.

In between cooking, with the stove busy and the rice cooker at work, Betty had a rare moment of downtime.

She walked out of the kitchen to rest on the living room couch but paused as she reached it, turning back to look at Michael’s closed room.

I had avoided Michael’s room, fearing the memories it held.

After Michael left, Betty was the only one who visited that room.

She sighed and approached Michael’s door, pushing it open and turning on the light.

The room was tidy, thanks to Betty’s special care.

Previously, Betty entered this room with cleaning supplies and stayed a while after tidying up.

But this time was different; for the first time, she entered Michael’s room empty-handed.

If before there was the excuse of cleaning, this time, her visit seemed solely driven by the need to reminisce about someone.

Betty stood at the doorway of the room, her gaze sweeping over everything in the bedroom.

Her expression was complex, a mix of nerves and anticipation, as Michael’s return was just two days away.

She seemed unsure of how to face him, but beneath her anxious expression, I could see a glimmer of joy.

Deep down, she missed Michael constantly, whether it was the bond of mother and son or something more profound.

Betty just stood there at Michael’s door, lost in her thoughts, as the seconds ticked by.

When the rice cooker beeped, Betty snapped back to reality.

She glanced at the kitchen, then turned to check the clock on the wall.

Realizing I would be home in less than five minutes, she quickly turned off the light in Michael’s room and shut the door, rushing into the kitchen in a flurry.

First, Betty turned off the gas.

Then she lifted the lid of the pot containing the ribs, relieved to see they hadn’t burned.

As I walked through the front door, I caught this scene, unaware that just moments before, Betty had been standing, daydreaming at Michael’s door.