Throughout the week, Betty found herself wandering into Michael’s bedroom on countless nights, tears streaming down her face as she reminisced about the times Michael was home.
Some nights, she lay alone on his bed, sobbing until sleep overtook her, and she spent the entire night in Michael’s room.
Betty had Michael stand on the floor while she rummaged through the closet for his clothes.
Every so often, she glanced back at him, as if fearing he might slip away when she wasn’t looking.
She picked out several items for him, including underwear, and then led him towards the bathroom.
Once there, she placed the clothes on a shelf and turned on the faucet, filling the bathtub with water.
"Take a good bath and change into these clothes. I’ll wash your clothes after you’re done," Betty said before leaving the bathroom.
She closed the door behind her and settled down on the sofa, waiting for Michael to finish his bath.
With her arms crossed, she rubbed her temples; the past few days had exhausted her.
Yet, with Michael finally back, she couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief, her mood still quite positive.
The ordeal of the week had been unforgettable, and she now fully realized the place Michael held in her heart.
Although Michael had not been part of the family for long, Betty had poured all her maternal love into him, treating him even more dearly than her own son.
It was the loss that taught her to cherish, and it was this realization that helped her understand the pain of losing Michael.
Betty sat on the sofa, waiting, but after a long while, she noticed an eerie silence from the bathroom—no sound of water, nothing.
Concerned, she slowly approached the bathroom door.
She hesitated to barge in, considering Michael’s unstable emotions.
Although she had seen him undressed before, it didn’t seem right to intrude at this moment.
She pressed her ear against the door and listened intently but heard nothing.
It was as if Michael was just standing there in the middle of the bathroom, motionless, almost as if he had turned into a statue.
It seemed that not only had his body been affected over the past week, but his spirit had been deeply wounded as well.
The events of the week and their conversation that night had inflicted irreparable damage on his psyche.
After confirming the silence, Betty cautiously opened the door and found Michael still standing there, motionless as if he were a wooden figure, exactly as he had been when she left.
A flicker of worry crossed her face as she sighed softly.
"Do you need Mom to help you bathe?" she asked gently, a stark contrast to her usual interrogative tone.
She sensed something was off with Michael; initially, she thought he was just upset and acting out, but now it seemed more serious—like he was truly traumatized.
"Michael, talk to me, do you recognize me? Why haven’t you said a word or even looked at me once since you’ve been back?"
Betty shook his shoulders vigorously, but Michael remained doll-like, unresponsive to her manipulations.
Betty, a part-time school counselor, gradually calmed down.
Her training in psychology helped her understand that Michael was experiencing psychological shutdown, a defense mechanism where a person seals off their emotions, reducing themselves to basic human instincts.
This condition was severe and required finding a breakthrough to open up his heart, a breakthrough that Betty knew lay with her.
As she watched Michael’s unresponsive state, she fell into deep thought, almost certain of the situation but knowing it would take time to observe.
The joy she had felt upon his return was now overshadowed by worry as another wave of regret washed over her, a look of remorse that had appeared all too often on her face that week.
Betty regained her composure with a deep sigh and closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath.
What was done was done, and all she could do now was to salvage the situation and help Michael return to a normal life.
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She changed into her pajamas and returned to the bathroom where Michael still stood, frozen in place.
Betty began to undress him, and though Michael instinctively resisted at first, he soon stopped as he deeply depended on Betty subconsciously.
Michael’s clothes were filthy, even his underwear.
When Betty stripped him down to just his briefs, she paused, her cheeks flushing at the familiar bulge that was still so evident.
Michael’s body was dirty, shedding flakes of skin—a sign of not bathing or changing clothes for a week.
After hesitating, Betty closed her eyes and removed Michael’s briefs.
Although she had seen his naked body many times before, she wanted to restore their relationship to a normal state, and at this moment, she felt no desire, only a professional need to care for him.
With Michael’s briefs off, Betty quickly moved behind him, where she could only see his backside, avoiding a direct view of his genitals.
Pushing him gently, she managed to get Michael into the bathtub.
It was a strenuous task for Betty, especially given her exhaustion over the past few days.
Once Michael was in the tub, Betty knelt beside it and began to bathe him.
She filled the tub with foam to maintain modesty, allowing her to avoid seeing his more sensitive areas.
Her hands moved through the foam, washing him, while Michael continued to stare blankly ahead, perhaps emotionally numb from the ordeal.
Despite the foam barrier, Betty could still feel the contours of Michael’s body as she washed him, her hands trembling.
Yes, her body trembled, not just from the physical effort but from the emotional conflict of washing the body of someone she loved as a son, yet was still a man.
When inevitably washing around Michael’s groin, she had to touch his penis, which she had mixed feelings about.
Betty spent a long time washing around Michael’s groin, and when she had cleaned every other part of his front, only his groin remained.
The male genital area is prone to dirt and bacterial infections, and Betty knew this well, always insisting on proper hygiene.
As Betty hesitated, a rumbling from Michael’s stomach broke the silence, a clear sign of hunger.
Realizing that Michael hadn’t eaten yet, Betty knew she needed to finish the bath quickly to prepare some food.
With a determined bite of her lip, Betty reached for Michael’s groin, lifting his flaccid penis out of the water...