Hidden Desires - Family Secrets-Chapter 150 Could they really not be home?

The night had already cloaked the city in darkness, the streets outside the hotel window alive with the neon glow of signs and the ceaseless flow of traffic.

The cacophony of car horns and the distant chatter of the bustling crowd painted a picture of urban vibrancy, a world that seemed to spin without me.

I glanced at the time and rose from the dim solitude of my hotel room, not to seek food, but to make a crucial phone call.

After a prolonged stay, I decided it was time to check in with my lawyer about the progress of my divorce.

I had only taken the lawyer’s number, deliberately not leaving any way for him to contact me.

Firstly, I had no cell phone or SIM card, having thrown my old phone into the river in a moment of despair.

Secondly, I feared that Betty might somehow obtain my contact details through the lawyer.

Stepping out of the hotel, I searched the streets for a place to make a call.

Gone were the days of payphones and phone booths lining the streets.

Even the hotel lobby, though equipped with a phone, seemed a risky choice as it might give away my location.

Thus, I headed to a large supermarket, knowing they often offered free phone services as part of their customer care.

Finally, inside the supermarket, I picked up the receiver, but my hand hesitated to dial.

Uncertainty gripped me as I pondered the possible outcomes of this call.

Maybe the lawyer would tell me Betty refused to sign the papers, or perhaps she had agreed, and my marriage was officially over.

Either result felt like a blow, but I had to face whatever was coming.

Snapping back to reality, I noticed the curious gaze of the supermarket clerk.

They seemed puzzled by my well-dressed appearance using the free phone service, and my prolonged hesitation to dial.

Taking a deep breath and preparing for the worst, I dialed the number scribbled on a piece of paper.

"Hello, is this Finn Carter?" I asked as soon as the call connected.

"Yes, this is Mr. Justin Davis speaking," came the reply, Finn’s voice tinged with urgency and tension.

"How are things going?" I asked, my voice tight with nerves.

If the lawyer had visited my home and met Betty, there might already be a resolution.

"Mr. Davis, I’ve been waiting for your call. I visited your home, but no one answered. I also tried reaching the other party with the number you provided, but their phone has been off," Finn explained, his tone finally easing.

The news puzzled me—no one at home and Betty’s phone off?

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"Let’s wait and see what’s going on," I said, exchanging brief pleasantries before hanging up.

Under the watchful eyes of the supermarket staff, I left, filled with confusion.

Why wasn’t Betty home?

Why was her phone off?

Could she have stepped out, or was her phone simply dead?

Perhaps, in a twist of fate, she was out there frantically looking for me, her phone battery dead before she could return home to charge it.

As the night deepened and stores began to close, I realized I couldn’t buy a new phone or get a SIM card.

Rushing back inside the supermarket, I disregarded the risk of exposing my whereabouts and dialed Betty’s number again with trembling hands.

The phone displayed a busy signal, and after two attempts, I hung up, stepping back into the chilly night air.

My heart was unsettled.

Despite my resolve to leave Betty, I didn’t want her to be in any danger or distress.

I hailed a taxi and directed the driver to my home, my mind filled with worry for Betty.

I couldn’t bring myself to harbor resentment towards her, remembering the kindness she had once shown me.

I tried to stay calm, assessing the situation as the taxi approached my neighborhood.

Paying the fare, I walked towards my building, the familiar sights of the complex somehow seeming alien now.

I stopped in my tracks, gazing at the apartment block from a distance.

I could see Michael’s room from where I stood, dark and lifeless, with no sign of life in the living room either.

I circled half of the apartment building, catching a glimpse of the bedroom I once shared with Betty, shrouded in darkness like the rest of the house.

I hesitated at the entrance, fearing that Betty and her son might be home, possibly asleep or, like that tumultuous night, passionately entangled with each other.

The thought of accidentally encountering Betty while she was possibly engaged in an intimate act made me suppress the urge to enter.

I stood outside the building for about eight minutes before retreating to the community garden, settling on a cold public bench.

It was now eight o’clock, a time when Betty used to tutor her son before they both retired for the night.

Life must have changed since I left, I thought.

Could their home now be completely different?

The bench was icy, but I felt no chill as I sat there, strategizing.

From this vantage point, I could see both the main gate of the complex and the door to my apartment.

I hoped to catch a glimpse of Betty and Michael returning home.

It was still early; I decided to wait a bit longer.

My face was hidden under a hat and a mask, and I wore clothes Luna had bought for me, so I wasn’t worried about being recognized.

Time ticked by, and before I knew it, two hours had passed.

It was now past ten o’clock, a time when Betty and Michael would normally be deep asleep.

Yet, there was no sign of them at the complex entrance, and no lights were turned on in my apartment.

Sitting there any longer seemed pointless.

As I stood up, I realized that my buttocks and legs had gone numb from the cold and lack of movement.

I nearly stumbled as I took my first step, my body stiff from sitting motionless for so long, my focus entirely consumed by my thoughts.

After resting briefly and feeling the blood flow back into my legs, I staggered towards the apartment building.

Using my key, I entered quietly, readjusting my hat and mask to stay concealed.

The hallway was still lined with familiar items, the air filled with familiar scents.

I walked up the familiar staircase, my emotions a stark contrast to the past.

I never thought I’d return to this place.

Under the weight of my concern for Betty, I slowly made my way to our apartment floor.

The door still bore the festive decorations from last New Year’s, a task Betty and I had completed together.

She had held the decorations steady while I affixed them from a stool.

These were remnants of our life together.

After a long pause at the door, I raised my hand, my breathing quick and my hand trembling slightly.

I knocked three times, "Thud, thud, thud," ready to run at the sound of footsteps, as I was there only to ensure her well-being, not to face her.

But after a long wait, there was no response, no sound of movement inside.

The silence was profound.

I knocked again, harder this time, but still no response.

Could they really not be home?

The best way to confirm whether Betty and Michael were there would be to return to the hotel and check the home surveillance footage on my laptop.