After watching the video, I clenched the bedsheets tightly in my hands, regretting the phone call I had made.
Why did it have to happen just then? Was fate playing a cruel joke on me, allowing Betty to keep secrets?
If I hadn’t installed those cameras, I might have remained blissfully unaware, a fool in the dark. But as they say, for every clever trick, there’s a counter trick even cleverer. Should I feel lucky thinking about this?
After putting down her phone, Betty lay in bed, trying to sleep, but she kept crying. It seemed the night’s events had taken her by surprise just as much as they had me. She couldn’t believe the coincidence either. In her desperation, she resorted to playing this childish "game" to decide her next steps.
"Betty, if this was a one-time thing, I could forgive you. I can forgive the assault because you were violated. I can forgive the secrecy because it was my decision and perhaps fate’s. But if there’s more... if you sink deeper, if you initiate... then we’re done..."
My hand trembled as I held the mouse, the cursor shaking on the screen. The video was from just a couple of weeks after I left, and I still had about a month and a half before returning home. I guessed things might not be as straightforward as they seemed.
Though I had no appetite, I ordered some takeout. I couldn’t afford to fall apart before uncovering the whole truth. After eating and taking a few deep breaths, I continued watching the videos, determined to understand everything before our upcoming wedding anniversary.
Betty managed to fall asleep that night, but it was a restless sleep, frequently jolted awake by nightmares, possibly reliving the assault. The next morning, she got up as usual and made breakfast for Michael but didn’t eat anything herself. It had been over 36 hours since she last ate. Continuing like this, her body would break down.
Hearing Betty get up, Michael also rose and sat in the living room, watching her prepare breakfast. For the first time, I saw a hint of regret in Michael’s eyes. Perhaps he hadn’t anticipated the situation turning out so differently from the stories and films he knew, nor the severe consequences of his actions.
"Mom, can we talk?" Betty was about to return to her room after finishing the breakfast.
"There’s nothing to talk about, go eat..." Betty didn’t turn around, her voice weak from not eating for so long.
"But you haven’t eaten in two days..." Fear and concern filled Michael’s eyes. Betty’s fasting left him bewildered; after all, he was still young and clueless about how to handle adult emotions.
"I’m not hungry..." Betty said before closing her bedroom door and locking it. She had been locking her door for the past two days, seemingly afraid that Michael might sneak in again. But now, her actions seemed like too little, too late.
Michael watched as Betty’s door closed again, the sound of the lock clicking into place echoing through the silent hallway.
He began to fidget on the couch, unsure of what to do next, his face on the verge of tears—a stark contrast to his demeanor just nights before.
It seemed as if the Michael of that night and the Michael of now were two entirely different people.
Eventually, Michael just sat there, staring blankly, the breakfast Betty had made left untouched.
By noon, Betty had prepared lunch, only to find that Michael hadn’t touched his breakfast.
By evening, as she was about to make dinner, she noticed that both breakfast and lunch remained uneaten.
Betty knew Michael was still growing; she watched him eat daily, worried that not eating enough might affect his development.
That’s why, despite her sadness, she never forgot to prepare his meals.
"Why haven’t you eaten?" Betty finally broke the silence when she saw the untouched meals, her voice filled with concern.
Michael, too, had been lost in thought all day, though he remained on the living room couch while Betty secluded herself in her bedroom.
"If you’re not eating, then neither will I," Michael said stubbornly, glancing at Betty.
Hearing this, Betty paused, her appearance weary and drained.
If it had been anyone else, they probably wouldn’t have been able to get out of bed, having subsisted on nothing but water for two whole days.
Betty didn’t know what to say, her expression one of helpless resignation.
She turned back to the kitchen to start on dinner, preparing a simple meal, as it was their last day of vacation before returning to school.
"Let’s eat..." Soon, Betty had the food ready and set it on the table.
She sat down, served herself and Michael, and began to eat slowly.
Seeing Betty finally eating, Michael rushed to the table and began devouring his food, clearly famished.
Betty watched him with a complex look in her eyes, her thoughts unreadable.
Michael ate voraciously, while Betty only picked at her food, her appetite diminished by her emotional state.
After dinner, Betty began to clean up.
Once everything was tidy, she returned to her bedroom and locked the door behind her.
Michael had remained on the couch, watching Betty move around the house, wanting to speak but unsure of what to say.
When Betty locked her door, Michael still hadn’t found the words, and he retreated to his room, heavy-hearted.
That night, both lay awake, burdened with their own thoughts.
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The night passed without a word, and by the next morning, Betty was up early, much earlier than usual for work.
After preparing breakfast, she spent a considerable amount of time grooming and applying makeup, trying to mask the toll the past few days had taken on her.
Life had to go on, and she couldn’t let anyone at work notice her distressed state, so she put extra effort into her makeup.
Standing in front of the mirror, Betty adjusted her expression repeatedly, attempting to make it look as normal as possible, but her smiles still seemed forced.
When it was about time to leave, Betty knocked on Michael’s door instead of barging in to wake him as she used to.
Michael emerged, bleary-eyed, having also gone to bed late the night before.
The two ate breakfast in silence and then headed off to school together.
I’ll skip the part of the day when they weren’t home and fast-forward the surveillance footage to the evening after school.
Once home, Betty prepared dinner, and they ate quietly, with Betty barely touching her food.
After dinner, Betty cleaned up and then retreated to her bedroom, locking the door behind her, no longer helping Michael with his homework as she used to.
After eating, Michael returned to his room, weighed down with thoughts as he finished his homework.
He lay in bed, ready to sleep, his emotions raw, displaying a mix of fear and helplessness, revealing his youthful vulnerability.
Betty lay in bed with her eyes closed, occasionally getting up to make a phone call.
After hearing the voicemail prompt, she would dejectedly put down the phone.
She was trying to call me, but since that night, my phone had remained off as usual.
If my phone had been on during those days, Betty might have confessed everything to me.
I think Betty was also contemplating over these days, occasionally looking at her phone with a regretful expression, regretting not confessing to me about that night.