ushernet Chapter 184 She seemed unsure of how to face him Part1
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.
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.