Hidden Desires - Family Secrets-Chapter 204 Had I seen it wrong? Part2

At that moment, I felt as if I had entered a state of malaise, my mood oppressively heavy.

Betty and Michael were out shopping, buying things—what exactly, it hardly mattered.

Impulse buys are common, after all.

Yet, these ordinary occurrences clung to my psyche, nagging at me.

Was it time to see a therapist?

Slowly, I found myself at the entrance of our neighborhood.

If Betty and Michael had left the mall by then, they should have been home by now, especially since I walked back.

I checked the time; it was 3:32 PM, almost time for Betty to start dinner.

Standing at the entrance to the complex, unsure of where to go, I finally decided to head home, claiming I felt unwell and had left work early.

As I approached the community dumpster, I remembered the outfit I had bought less than an hour ago.

Without any sentiment, I stripped off the hat, glasses, mask, and scarf, tossing them all into the bin.

Reaching our front door, I took a deep breath and adjusted my mood.

Years of being a journalist, going undercover countless times, had taught me how to act and handle any sudden situations.

Yet, it took me a while to regulate my emotions this time.

I took out my keys and unlocked the door, but the scene inside was exactly as it had been at noon—no one was home, and the shopping bags from the clothing store were still on the bed, untouched.

They still hadn’t returned.

Where could they have gone?

After what felt like an eternity, about forty minutes, I checked the time again.

It was well past the usual time Betty started dinner; tonight’s meal would definitely be late.

Just then, the sound of keys turning in the lock echoed from outside.

The door opened, and Betty’s figure appeared first.

"Hey... honey, why are you home so early today?" Betty exclaimed, startled upon seeing me.

I didn’t respond immediately, my gaze fixated on her and Michael as they entered, particularly their hands, which were notably empty.

I looked up at Betty and Michael.

Betty averted her eyes briefly, while Michael seemed indifferent, as usual.

Silently, my mind short-circuited, unable to process the situation.

Earlier at the mall, I had seen them carrying numerous bags.

Why were their hands empty now?

Where had all the items gone?

Had they returned them, or...

"Honey, what’s wrong? Why aren’t you talking?" Betty’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

She seemed flustered, a hint of nervousness and fear in her tone.

"It’s nothing, just not feeling well. I took some time off to rest..." I turned away, settling onto the sofa.

"What’s wrong? Where do you feel unwell?" Betty rushed over, placing her palm on my forehead.

"It’s nothing, probably just lack of rest..." My mind was in turmoil, and Betty’s touch sparked an inexplicable irritation within me.

I shook my head slightly, moving her hand away.

"Oh... then I’ll start cooking... You should lie down in bed for a while..." Perhaps sensing my displeasure, Betty’s voice trembled slightly.

After advising me, she turned and headed to the kitchen.

Michael also told me to rest in the bedroom before he retreated to his own room.

I got up and slowly walked to my bedroom.

Although I had lied about feeling unwell, now I genuinely felt weak and disoriented.

Lying in bed, my thoughts were a jumbled mess.

First, they had clearly been shopping earlier—where had all those purchases gone?

Their hands were empty upon returning.

Moreover, the panic and tension in Betty’s eyes when she saw me—previously, I attributed it to past incidents, but time should have diminished these reactions, not intensified them.

"No guilt, no fear," as the saying goes.

Why the apparent increase in her anxiety?

In the past, familial bonds clouded my judgment, but now, detaching myself, I used my journalistic instincts to scrutinize the situation, finding inconsistencies everywhere.

Was I overthinking, or were there indeed secrets I was unaware of?

Sounds of clattering pots and pans came from the kitchen, leaving me to wonder what Betty was preparing.

Should I confront her later?

If it turned out to be nothing, would my suspicions only serve to disturb the peace of our home?

"Honey, dinner’s ready..." Just as I was sorting through my thoughts, the bedroom door opened, and Betty’s gentle voice called from the doorway, tinged with restraint.

"You guys go ahead, I’m not hungry..." I murmured, my eyes closed, my voice devoid of emotion.

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"Honey, should I take you to the hospital?" Betty quickly came to my side, sitting on the edge of the bed and reaching out to touch my forehead.

This time, I didn’t resist her touch.

"No, just eat. Let me have some peace..." I spoke without opening my eyes.

"Oh..." Betty seemed hesitant to speak further.

She stood up and slowly walked out of the bedroom, gently closing the door behind her.

The room fell silent, but I could hear Michael’s quiet inquiry from the living room.

"What’s wrong with Dad?" Michael asked cautiously.

"He’s not feeling well..." Betty’s voice was uncertain, but that was her reply.

Then the clinking of dishes resumed, probably mother and son enjoying their hearty dinner, just like they did at lunch.

At this moment, my feelings were even worse than at noon.

Wasn’t I hungry?

I was indeed very hungry, but my resentment seemed to grow as they enjoyed their meal.

If Betty would stay with me, skipping her meal, or perhaps bring me some food later, maybe I’d feel a bit better.

"You eat, I’m not really hungry either..." Just as this thought crossed my mind, Betty’s voice came from the living room, like a shot of adrenaline to my heart, making it beat vigorously again.

Then I heard the bedroom door open.

I could smell Betty’s perfume mixed with the aroma of the food, which was indeed very enticing.

"Honey, have a little, okay? I made your favorite. Just try to eat a bit," I heard from the nightstand.

Betty must have placed the food there.

I opened my eyes and looked at Betty, then turned to glance at the food.

I must admit, Betty’s gesture made me feel a lot better.

"I know you’re tired, maybe you don’t have much strength. Shall I feed you?" Betty’s eyes sparkled with joy when she saw me open my eyes.

She quickly grabbed the bowl, scooped up some rice and vegetables with a spoon, blew on it gently, and brought it to my lips, her eyes filled with hope.

I hesitated, wondering whether to open my mouth.

As time passed, the joy in Betty’s eyes slowly faded, replaced by a tearful look as if she was about to cry.

I sighed and opened my mouth to eat the food.

What followed was a silent scene.

I truly felt like a patient, letting Betty feed me bite by bite, the emotions in her eyes indescribable.