For the next five days, Betty and Michael barely spoke.
Each morning, they’d eat breakfast, then head to school, and after classes, Betty would cook dinner.
After eating, Betty would retreat to her bedroom, leaving Michael to do his homework before he too would turn in early for the night.
While Michael, still just a kid, could sleep soundly through the night, Betty suffered from insomnia.
She woke up early each morning looking visibly drained, spending a considerable amount of time applying makeup to hide her weariness.
When another weekend rolled around, a slight change finally emerged in their routine.
After school on Friday, Betty and Michael returned home.
Betty, having had days to adjust, seemed in better spirits, but that evening she appeared particularly troubled.
Her mood was not just one of exhaustion but tinged with anger and worry.
Michael, silent and head down, followed Betty into the house.
Instead of heading straight to the kitchen to cook as usual, Betty threw her purse on the sofa and sat down, arms crossed, visibly upset.
"What’s going on?" Betty finally broke the silence after a few moments of thought.
She pulled out a test paper from her purse and confronted Michael, who had been standing uncertainly by the door.
Startled by her sudden question, Michael tensed up, as if transported back to a time before.
"Out with it, why the hesitation now? Thought you were so confident, so carefree?" Betty’s voice grew more heated as she even brought up a past incident that had been particularly painful.
"Ranked fifth from the bottom of your class, I can’t believe these are your results..." Betty slammed the test paper on the coffee table.
This 𝓬ontent is taken from fгeewebnovёl.co𝙢.
It turned out there had been a mid-month test, and Michael’s performance was far from satisfactory.
Previously, Betty would have been thrilled to report that Michael was either first or second in his class.
Just recently, she had been tutoring him extra hard after he came third, which was unacceptable to her.
Betty, a teacher herself, was highly sensitive to academic rankings, especially when it came to her foster son.
Seeing Michael’s poor grades must have infuriated her, her anger momentarily overshadowing her sadness.
She glared at Michael, her eyes conveying deep disappointment.
No wonder Betty was upset; falling to fifth from the bottom was a drastic drop from his usual performance.
In just a week, Michael’s grades had plummeted to this state.
Michael, embracing the idea of "confess to lighten the punishment," remained silent.
"It’s all because of what’s been going on these days..." Unable to withstand the growing tension, Michael muttered softly.
Betty heard him clearly.
He meant that the atmosphere at home and his own turmoil hadn’t allowed him any peace of mind to focus on his studies.
Understandably, the recent events and both Betty’s demeanor and Michael’s internal fears had made it impossible for him to concentrate.
His words, though true, sounded like excuses to Betty.
"So it’s my fault now, is it?" Betty, realizing the implication of Michael’s words, also remembered the painful incident from that night.
Unable to contain her emotions any longer, she burst into tears.
In a fit of rage, she grabbed the test paper from the coffee table and threw it at Michael.
These days, Betty had been avoiding thinking about that night, but now she was forced to confront the consequences that night had set into motion...
Betty sat on the sofa, sobbing uncontrollably.
It was the first time Michael had ever seen her so heartbroken, and it threw him into a panic.
He stood there, utterly bewildered and flustered.
Eventually, Michael hurriedly grabbed some wet wipes from Betty’s purse and offered them to her, but she was too engulfed in her tears to notice.
Taking matters into his own hands, Michael began gently wiping her tears away.
When the wet wipe touched the corner of Betty’s eye, she flinched and instinctively pulled away.
She then took the wet wipe from him, her crying slowly subsiding.
"Mom, I’m sorry..." Michael saw Betty dodge his gesture, a flash of dejection in his eyes as he spoke in a disheartened tone.
"You haven’t wronged me, you’ve wronged your biological parents, your current dad, and yourself..." Betty said through her tears, her eyes filled with sorrow.
By the end, she let out a deep sigh.
It had been 5-6 days since the incident, but the gloom in her heart seemed unrelenting.
Betty could numb herself with work during the week, but now it was the weekend again, and her husband wasn’t home.
She found herself longing for the weekdays when she could immerse herself in work.
After saying this, Betty went to prepare dinner.
Although it had only been 5-6 days, I could tell that Betty had lost weight.
Her appetite had diminished over the past few days, her anxiety evident, making her look all the more worn.
The two of them ate dinner with heavy hearts.
Afterward, Betty began cleaning up, while Michael sat on the sofa, hesitating to speak.
This had been the pattern for the past few days; every time Michael sat waiting on the sofa, it ended with Betty retreating to her bedroom without a word.
"You go to your room and start on your homework. I’ll come check on your work and study plan for the week..." Betty, busy in the kitchen, suddenly said to Michael, who was sitting on the sofa.
Her tone carried a hint of resignation, and she didn’t look at Michael as she spoke.
"Oh..." Michael was surprised to hear Betty speak to him.
When he returned to his bedroom, out of Betty’s sight, a small smile finally appeared on his face.
Regardless of everything, the fact that Betty was talking to him and wanted to check his study plan meant things were starting to warm up.
The communication between them might become smoother from here.
After finishing up, Betty went to the bathroom to freshen up, then stood in front of the full-length mirror, taking several deep breaths.
She then headed to Michael’s bedroom.
When she opened the door and saw Michael’s back, a flicker of confusion crossed her eyes.
This scene was all too familiar from the week before when she would come in her pajamas to tutor Michael nightly.
She hadn’t expected to relive this scene under such changed circumstances.
Hearing the door open, Michael didn’t turn around, but his fingers tightened around his pen.
Betty composed herself before approaching him, then slowly took the homework book from his hands.
Betty hadn’t looked closely at Michael’s homework over the past few days.
She tried to remain calm as she reviewed his work, her brow furrowing slightly.
Clearly, Michael’s homework was a mess, and it was far from satisfactory.
Whenever Betty discussed students’ learning and homework, her expressions were always vivid, perhaps a professional hazard of being a teacher.