Hidden Desires - Family Secrets-Chapter 205 The scent on Betty now was unfamiliar... Part1

As I sat there, fork in hand, my gaze was locked onto Betty’s eyes.

Betty, a woman seemingly flawless in the eyes of others, now appeared so changed.

I wanted to voice the whirlwind of questions in my mind, but fear of a misunderstanding held me back.

What if it led to a huge mix-up?

How would I explain myself to Betty?

Yet, the frustration inside me seemed to find no outlet, leaving me unsure of what to do.

Betty seemed slightly embarrassed by my intense stare, her eyes darting away, avoiding mine.

This evasiveness made me uncomfortable; I wished she would meet my gaze with the same intensity, as her avoidance only fueled my overthinking.

"I’m full..." I muttered, my appetite vanishing as I noticed Betty’s shifting gaze.

I had only eaten half of my meal.

"Okay..." Betty responded softly, taking the dishes and walking out, only to return shortly with a cup of hot water for me.

"I’ll clean up..." she said, handing me the hot water before leaving the room.

As the bedroom door closed behind her, I didn’t drink the water but instead strained my ears to catch any sounds from the living room.

I was trying to discern if there was any conversation or interaction between her and our son, but all I heard was the clinking of dishes.

Were they communicating silently through gestures or looks?

Perhaps I was just too tired, my brain growing heavier, feeling the pull of sleep about two hours earlier than usual.

But before sleep could take me, the sound of the door opening jolted me awake.

Betty walked in and began changing her clothes slowly.

After dressing, she climbed into bed, seemingly sensing my foul mood.

She lay gently beside me, her face resting on my shoulder, offering silent comfort.

Betty’s actions that night eased my mind somewhat, but the nagging questions persisted.

Just as I was about to ponder further, I noticed something peculiar—the scent of her body wash.

It wasn’t the fragrance of the perfume but the body wash we both favored, which hadn’t been changed at home for ages.

Yet, the scent on Betty now was unfamiliar...

I was certain this wasn’t the usual fragrance from our shared body wash.

Had Betty bought a new one?

Even if she had, when had she used it?

I remembered her scent from the night before—it was the old one, and I was sure she hadn’t showered tonight.

It must have been during the day, but why would she shower then without any apparent reason?

Most people wouldn’t notice such a detail, but as a journalist, I’m trained to catch these subtleties.

There was definitely something off about this body wash.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.

I decided to wait until Betty fell asleep to check the bathroom.

My chest felt increasingly tight, my breathing grew rapid, and Betty, feeling the rise and fall of my chest under her arm, became concerned.

"Honey, what’s wrong? You’re breathing so heavily," she asked, her voice trembling as she lifted her head from my arm.

"It’s nothing... just feeling a bit unwell," I managed to say, my voice shaky with suppressed anger.

I reminded myself to stay rational—these were only suspicions, with no solid proof yet.

"Should we go to the hospital?" Betty suggested gently, shaking my shoulder.

"No need, I’ll just go to the bathroom..." I said, getting up to find some space to calm down.

In the bathroom drawer lay a pack of cigarettes I hadn’t touched in ages.

Once inside the bathroom, I locked the door behind me, a habit I had never needed before.

After all, it had always been just Betty and me, and even when Michael moved in, I never felt the need to lock the door.

But this time, instinctively, I did.

I couldn’t trust anyone anymore, not even myself.

Sitting on the toilet, I pulled out a cigarette from the drawer.

The cigarette had a harsh, biting taste, but smoking it felt strangely soothing, as if the sharpness could somehow ease the pain gnawing at my heart.

After finishing the cigarette, I took a deep breath and decided to check on the body wash.

It was stored under the sink, just where it always was.

Our usual brand was still there, heavy and more than half full.

I searched around but found no new bottle.

Slumping back onto the toilet, I was haunted by the question: If the scent on Betty wasn’t from our home, where did it come from?

Did she find the need to shower outside our home?

Why would she need to do that during the day?

She was supposed to be with Michael, at least they came home for lunch together and spent the afternoon shopping.

So when could she have possibly taken a shower, and more importantly, why?

A disturbing thought crossed my mind: Betty and Michael were together again.

After being almost caught once, they had gotten smarter.

They could be meeting up during the day, using hotels to hide their affair, leaving no trace for me to find.

It was a clever tactic, perfectly designed to evade my suspicions.

I sat there, trying to calm myself, reminding myself to keep a clear head.

I lit another cigarette, letting the nicotine numb my senses.

After a while, I decided to act as if I knew nothing.

Confronting Betty without any proof could startle her and might just be a huge misunderstanding on my part.

The best way to uncover the truth would be to ask Luna for help, but given our complicated history, I decided against it.

"Honey, are you okay?" Betty’s voice came from outside the door, her knocks pulling me back to reality.

I had lost track of time. "I’m fine, just a bad stomach," I lied as I stepped out of the bathroom and returned to the bedroom.

Betty followed silently and lay down beside me, holding my arm, her familiar warmth a stark contrast to the cold doubts filling my mind.

Despite the restored affection over the past years, I couldn’t bring myself to believe she would betray me again, yet the oddities were too glaring to ignore, and I couldn’t just confront her.

I woke up the next morning with dark circles under my eyes.

Despite Betty’s urging, I went to work, but my mind was anything but calm.

I kept picturing the scenes at home, but with the broken camera, I couldn’t see anything.

By noon, I couldn’t stand it anymore.

If I continued to torment myself, I might actually lose my mind.

I took a cab straight to Luna’s mansion after work.

Standing outside the familiar gates, I hesitated.

Should I really go in?

But for the sake of my family, my love, and the answers I sought, I finally took a determined step forward.