Would Betty honor her promise from yesterday?
Would she really show up?
For some reason, this time mattered to me more than anything, even more than the first time between Betty and Michael.
Perhaps it was because I had this foreboding feeling that everything was about to change dramatically after this, and my gut was screaming that it wasn’t good.
In the scene, as the Accord drove in, Michael parked the car swiftly and ran to the gate to close it.
My eyes were glued to the passenger side door of the Accord, waiting to see if it would open...
My heart sank as I saw the door swing open, and the person I loved and knew so well, my wife, Betty, stepped out.
She really was a woman of her word, one of the reasons I had chosen her, one of the qualities I valued most in her.
Yet, at this moment, it felt like a cruel irony.
Even though I had anticipated this outcome, it still hurt deeply.
Betty walked into the main hall of the courtyard, and after Michael locked the gate, he scurried back inside to join her.
Once inside, Betty set her bag down and took a seat on the living room sofa.
She pulled out a tissue to wipe her hands and cheeks.
"Want to take a shower first?" Michael stood at the doorway, his eyes filled with anticipation.
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He was probably fantasizing about sharing a romantic bath with Betty, but she just shook her head, not uttering a single word.
At that moment, a trace of sorrow was barely visible on her face.
"What’s wrong? Why do you always look so sad every time you come here?" Michael sat down next to her on the sofa, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, holding her close as a husband would to his beloved wife.
Despite Betty being significantly older than Michael, their appearance betrayed no age difference.
Betty’s excellent self-care made her look remarkably young, while Michael’s maturity belied his age, making them seem perfectly matched, their pairing natural and without any hint of discrepancy.
Could they be the true couple, perhaps continuing a bond from a past life, making me the outsider in this relationship?
"Nothing..." Betty gently removed Michael’s arm from around her, managing a faint smile.
Her gesture seemed to slightly annoy Michael, but he didn’t react openly, seemingly not believing her words.
Observing Betty, it seemed she didn’t feel about Michael as I had imagined.
It appeared she didn’t harbor deep feelings for him.
The last time I saw them together in the courtyard, Betty had briskly removed her underwear, allowing Michael to penetrate her directly, straightforwardly addressing the matter without any desire for kisses, suggesting some resistance towards him.
Was she merely using Michael as a means for physical satisfaction, to fulfill her own desires?
But why then would she allow Michael to finish inside her without protection?
Could it be... she had secretly gotten an IUD because I was infertile, and she had given up on me, choosing instead to satisfy her needs with Michael, especially since I couldn’t fulfill her desires at her prime age?
"You go ahead and wash up..." Betty told Michael.
"I washed last night..." Michael seemed eager to make love, hence his reluctant response.
"If you don’t wash, don’t touch me..." Betty said sternly, and Michael had no choice but to comply.
Michael entered the bathroom but deliberately left the door open, and Betty, sitting on the sofa on one side of the living room, had a clear view of the bathroom door.
Michael stood in the bathroom, the door wide open, as he began to undress without a hint of shyness.
Initially, he turned his back to Betty as he stripped, and Betty, noticing that Michael hadn’t bothered to close the door, shook her head with a wry smile, seemingly chiding him for his brazenness.
"Ugh..." When Michael turned around completely naked, Betty’s cheeks flushed slightly and she mockingly spat, because she caught sight of Michael’s large, flaccid penis swinging like a python between his legs.
A mix of embarrassment, shock, and a hint of fascination and desire flashed through her eyes.
She gathered herself and slowly walked towards the bathroom.
Seeing this, my nerves kicked in.
Was Betty so moved by the sight of Michael’s manhood that she couldn’t resist joining him for a romantic bath?
I wasn’t the only one tense; Michael was too.
Initially, he might have just been teasing Betty, but he hadn’t expected her to actually approach.
Both Michael and I, separated by a screen, found our breathing quickened in this shared moment.
"Click..." But then, a sound made me breathe a sigh of relief.
Betty had walked up to the doorway and stood there motionless.
Michael’s face lit up with excitement and anticipation, but Betty just smiled and swiftly shut the door.
Michael’s figure disappeared from her view, along with the intimidating yet enticing sight of his large penis.
As the door closed, Betty covered her mouth and chuckled lightly, seemingly having teased and punished Michael a bit, her previously somber face now showing a hint of mischief.
"Go ahead and take a good shower... no funny business..." Betty, perhaps worried about hurting Michael’s feelings, called out to him through the door.
Soon, the sound of running water filled the room.
Betty slowly walked back to the sofa and sat down.
She glanced at the clock on the wall, noting there was still plenty of time.
She seemed in no rush.
She listlessly pulled out her phone, her expression complex as she tapped on it.
What was she doing?
"Ding..." Just then, my phone beeped with a new message.
It was from Betty.
"Are you there, honey?" Just four simple words.
I stared at the message, debating whether to reply.
If I didn’t, would she call me?
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I decided to wait.
"Are you still upset, honey?" After a while, Betty sent another message.
I still didn’t respond.
In the past, if I didn’t reply promptly, Betty would call, worried because of my job.
Because my work often left her anxious, my response was also a sign that I was safe, even when I wasn’t traveling.
I had to start thinking about what to say when Betty called.
Should I lie to her?
Wouldn’t that just give her and Michael a chance to continue their affair?
Or should I confront her over the phone?
Was now the right time for that?
"Honey might be busy, I guess. I’m working late tonight, not sure how long it’ll take. Might make it home in time to cook dinner for you, or I might be later than you. If you’re hungry, go ahead and order some takeout, but make sure it’s something nice, don’t skimp on yourself, or else when I get home... I’ll have to scold you."
As I pondered how to respond to Betty’s eventual call, she sent another message, ending with a playful emoji.
If I hadn’t known the truth, this message would have felt incredibly sweet.
But now, it only added to the slow, aching pain in my heart, even more so than witnessing Betty and Michael’s intimacy.