Betty’s move was ruthless.
Initially, she didn’t refuse, but when she did, it was absolute, leaving no room for negotiation.
Perhaps she lost her judgment; after all, Michael was still a child.
Could he handle such a blow?
Betty hadn’t considered that at all.
Hearing Betty’s voice, Michael wanted to go out, but his twitching nose signaled his emotional instability.
He stood up, then sat down again.
He didn’t want anyone to see him in his sorrow, especially not Betty, and he had no appetite either.
After Betty had prepared the meal, and Michael still hadn’t come out, she had no choice but to return to his door and knock, calling him to come and eat.
"Mom, go ahead and eat, I’m not hungry..." Michael said weakly from behind the door, his voice nasal after crying for a long time.
Betty, hearing his voice, knew he had been crying, or was still crying.
A flicker of worry and pity crossed her eyes.
She thought about turning the doorknob, but ultimately, she didn’t.
Though her heart ached, she walked away from Michael’s door, hardening her heart.
In the past, her soft heart had led to too many compromises because of her pity for Michael, which only pushed them further down a path of inappropriate intimacy.
Betty, after hearing Michael’s words, didn’t say anything more.
She went to the dining table and began to eat, but she hardly touched her food, seemingly lacking appetite herself.
Her eyes occasionally drifted towards Michael’s door, filled with unspoken worries.
Eventually, Betty ate only a third of her usual portion, perhaps due to lack of appetite or the loneliness of eating alone.
She put down her chopsticks and cleared the table, storing the food in a thermal container, perhaps thinking Michael might come out to eat later if he got hungry.
This small act showed her care for Michael, a concern as deep as any.
After finishing, Betty stood in the living room for a long time, her fingertip tapping her chin, lost in thought.
After a while, she returned to her bedroom, changed into her pajamas, and then headed towards Michael’s bedroom.
Everything was as it had been the past few days, seemingly nothing special.
Could it be that Betty was preparing to compromise again tonight?
No, if she were to compromise again, what would have been the point of the recent cold treatment?
And the determination in her eyes as she walked out of her room suggested she wouldn’t just give in.
When Betty reached Michael’s door, she pressed down on the handle, but it turned out Michael had indeed locked it from the inside.
Betty was taken aback; she hadn’t expected him to actually shut her out.
Who was he locking the door against in a house just for the two of them?
On the other side, Michael was slumped over the desk, doing who knows what, his body occasionally shaking, seemingly still sobbing.
Hearing the sound of the door handle, he finally lifted his head and glanced at the door.
His face was wet, whether from tears or sweat, with two streams of mucus hanging below his nose, and the area around him was wet with tears.
Michael glanced back at the door indifferently, then turned his head away again.
Tonight, he had no intention of studying or doing homework; he needed peace and to accept the reality of the situation.
But Betty seemed unwilling to give up.
After failing to open the door with the handle, she knocked again, this time with more force, clearly angered by Michael’s avoidance.
"Michael, what are you doing in there? Open the door..." Betty suppressed her anger, her tone light but firm.
Logically, Betty shouldn’t be this angry, knowing that Michael had just been crying inside.
Yet, her demeanor was like that of a woman throwing a princess tantrum at her lover.
As a teacher, Betty should have more patience, but perhaps there was something more, something even she didn’t understand.
"Please, just let me be alone tonight..." Michael took a while to compose himself, wiping his nose with a tissue before speaking nasally.
"You... Michael, open the door, let’s talk..." Betty was almost breathless with frustration at his words, but with the door locked from the inside, she had no other options unless she decided to break the lock.
Hearing Michael’s heavier nasal voice, Betty realized she might have hurt him deeply, so her tone softened significantly, and her approach became much gentler.
However, Betty waited in vain; there was no sound of the door opening, only the occasional sob from inside.
Betty had to knock again, but after a long wait at the door, it was clear Michael had no intention of opening it.
Betty stood there for a long time, pondering.
Perhaps after venting, Michael would grow from this experience and eventually understand her.
This was a necessary process.
Just like love, how can one understand the true essence of love without experiencing emotional pain?
"Then get some rest early, and be on time for class tomorrow..." Eventually, Betty gave up on tutoring him that night.
She spoke softly before slowly returning to her own bedroom.
Back in her bedroom, Betty habitually went to lock her door but hesitated and decided not to this time.
Was she leaving the choice up to Michael?
If he barged in during the night, would she compromise again?
But considering her behavior over the past few days and tonight, it seemed unlikely.
Perhaps she was hoping that Michael would come in so she could have a chance to talk to him face-to-face, but she was determined not to let him force himself on her again.
Betty lay in bed, unable to sleep, partly worried about Michael and partly afraid of being violated by him again if she fell asleep.
On the other side, after crying for a long time, Michael wiped his face clean with a tissue.
His eyes were swollen, and he seemed lost in thought, his mood at an all-time low, showing none of his usual cheerful and wild demeanor.
His current state seemed off, dangerously so.
Even though I’ve never raised a child, I could tell that Michael’s mental state was heading in a troubling direction, his emotions becoming increasingly disturbed.
After a long contemplation, Michael glanced at his homework and books, then silently began packing his backpack, placing his homework and books neatly inside as if nothing had happened.
If it weren’t for the lifeless expression on his face, one might think he had adjusted...
The 𝘮ost uptodat𝑒 novels are pub𝙡ished on freeweɓnovēl.coɱ.