Hidden Desires - Family Secrets

Chapter 183 Did you tell her the time? Part2

"After you consider whether you can truly adopt this attitude, it might be best not to let Michael come home if you can't," Luna said, her words casting a sudden silence over the room.

Now, it all boiled down to my attitude.

Could I really muster a smile for Michael?

For anyone else, the answer would be a resounding no.

How could I greet with a smile a man who had betrayed me not once, but twice?

Yet, thinking of his situation and of Laura, I reluctantly nodded.

Seeing my nod, Luna sighed softly, her gaze then shifting to Betty.

The ease with which she had spoken to me was gone, replaced by a hesitance, as if she was on the verge of saying more.

At that moment, Betty looked like she was under immense strain...

Observing Luna and Betty, I sensed they had secrets that were hard to voice.

Perhaps these weren't dark secrets, but with me there, Luna was cautious, unsure if her words might wound me.

So, she held back.

Witnessing this, I stood up and slowly walked towards the door.

Betty, seeing me leave, quickly got up to join me.

"You two talk; I'll get some fresh air. Come find me when you're done," I said, turning away from Luna and Betty.

With those words, I stepped out of the room.

Betty's footsteps didn't follow.

I walked into the garden of Luna's villa, breathing in the air heavy with the scent of flowers.

My mind was far from calm.

Honestly, I wasn't sure if my decision was the right one.

Was I just inviting trouble by letting Michael come home?

Could this lead to more chaos?

Curiosity about what Luna might say to Betty gnawed at me, but for everything to proceed smoothly, I had to suppress my curiosity and desire for knowledge.

I sat on a garden bench, lost in thought, until I heard footsteps behind me.

Betty and Luna approached.

Half a month later, on a day Betty was home and I was not, she began cleaning the house.

On previous weekends, she had occasionally tidied up, but she always deliberately skipped Michael's room, even though she cleaned every other nook and cranny.

Was she avoiding it?

This time was no different.

After cleaning every other room, she paused at the closed door of the guest bedroom, which had remained shut for weeks.

It was as if it were forbidden territory; neither of us had opened that door since there was no need—nothing of ours was inside.

After finishing with the rest of the house, Betty, still holding her cleaning supplies, hesitated before Michael's room.

She took a deep breath and opened the door.

The moment the door swung open, a musty smell hit her, causing Betty to cough uncontrollably.

She slowly stepped inside.

The room was unchanged, frozen in time.

Michael's neatly folded clothes were piled in the corner of the bed, his study desk by the bed with his books, his shoes in the corner, and his clothes hanging on the wall.

Everything was painfully familiar.

Betty walked around the room, forgetting her initial purpose.

Each familiar item she saw held her gaze for a long time, her eyes clouding with confusion.

When her eyes landed on a photo of Michael on the desk, she couldn't look away.

Tears began to stream down her face.

With a loud clatter, the broom slipped from her hands and fell to the floor.

Betty didn't bother to pick it up.

Instead, she slowly walked over to the desk and picked up the photo.

It was a picture of Michael and Betty together, taken during a trip to an amusement park.

They had framed the photo afterward, and Michael had kept it on his desk.

The photo was perfectly ordinary; I was there when it was taken but wasn't in the picture.

At that time, Betty and Michael's relationship was still normal.

Holding the photo, tears rolled down Betty's cheeks like pearls, each one reflecting a mix of nostalgia and sorrow.