Hidden Desires - Family Secrets-Chapter 192 It was as if he had disappeared from the world
Two years had flown by in the blink of an eye, and with them, a whirlwind of events, especially between Betty and me.
Our rift had finally healed over these two years, and our relationship was back to its old warmth.
We both managed to push aside those unhappy memories, truly embodying the saying that time is the ultimate healer.
Throughout these years, my relationship with Luna remained lukewarm.
I was the one keeping my distance, haunted by that one night with her, feeling a deep-seated debt towards her, a debt that seemed to grow with each passing day.
Luna had spent these years seeking help for my health issues.
My condition had improved, but because I refused to take a break from work for proper rest, my recovery was slow.
However, after two years, the doctors reported a significant improvement in my sperm viability, reaching a level sufficient for conception.
All it would take now was a bit of luck to start our own family.
Betty was overjoyed by this news, her desire for a child far surpassing mine.
As for Michael’s true identity, I kept it hidden from her, planning to keep this secret as long as possible.
Knowing Michael already had a biological son, I felt no urgency for children, but Betty, without Michael by her side and having tasted the joys of motherhood, was desperate.
After our reconciliation, Betty almost daily urged me to make love, but despite the improved sperm count, our sex life was strained.
Work stress, emotional entanglements with Luna, and lingering psychological shadows made it difficult to maintain intimacy.
Often, I would lose my erection abruptly during the act.
Betty, though she said little, was clearly worried and urged me to consult with a doctor.
It was a difficult subject to broach, and I hadn’t let Luna in on this issue, so it remained between Betty and me.
Recently, I sought out a doctor on my own, who after thorough examination, declared my physical health normal.
The issues during sex were psychological, though the doctor didn’t pry into the reasons.
Despite my reluctance to admit it, I trusted the doctor’s expertise.
Yet, I couldn’t pinpoint the exact cause of my distress.
Every time I was intimate with Betty, involuntary images of her with Michael would flood my mind, tormenting me with thoughts of how Michael, my own father, had once been intimate with her just like I was.
The bizarre realization that my father and I shared the same lover made me feel incredibly awkward and uneasy, leading to my loss of sexual interest.
Betty might have sensed something was off, as our sex life had been relatively normal even when I was infertile, though it never matched Michael’s vigor.
In everyday moments, I could avoid these troubling thoughts, but seeing Betty’s familiar body and hearing her moans, which were so similar to what I had seen on the surveillance tapes from that night in the living room, brought everything rushing back.
Despite her frustrations, Betty treated me even more tenderly than before, showing no signs of disdain.
I never removed the surveillance system, unsure of its necessity, but occasionally, I would review the footage.
Several times, I caught Betty masturbating alone, a sight I had never witnessed before.
Before, even though I was infertile, our sex life had been harmonious.
Perhaps Michael’s "tutoring" had heightened her physical needs to a new level, leaving her unsatisfied now, and her solo sessions were just a way to quench her thirst.
In these past two years, Michael had vanished off the face of the earth.
He hadn’t come home even for the holidays and hadn’t reached out to us at all.
It was as if he had disappeared from the world.
I only got bits and pieces of information about him through Luna.
According to her, Michael had completed his treatment and was now studying abroad, catching up on all he had missed and pursuing higher education.
As for when or if he would return, I hadn’t asked; just knowing he was safe was enough for me.
My feelings towards Michael hadn’t changed over these two years; they were still complex.
I hoped for his return, yet the thought of seeing him brought back painful memories.
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However, I wished him success.
After all, he was my biological son.
I didn’t demand anything from him.
If he chose not to return, I planned to visit him sometime.
If he wanted to come back, I was ready to welcome him again.
It was all up to him.
"Hey, what do you want for dinner tonight?" Betty’s voice came through the phone, breaking into my office daydream.
Her voice was sweet, a reminder of how much we had come to cherish each other after healing from our past rift.
Our relationship now was more familial than romantic, a sublime evolution of love.
"Anything’s fine... as long as you’re making it, I’m up for it..." I responded with a gentle laugh, treating her with the same tenderness I always had.
We had returned to our old ways, never mentioning Michael, as if his name was taboo.
"Ugh... you always say that, it’s so boring. How about we go out tonight?" Betty sounded a bit disappointed at first, but perked up with the idea.
"Why the sudden urge to eat out?" I asked, puzzled.
"Because it’s been forever since we’ve had a dinner out, just the two of us..." she playfully retorted.
"Yeah... it has been a long time since just the two of us went out to eat... Alright, book a place and let me know..." I said, my gaze drifting out the window, lost in thought.
It had been years since Betty and I had a candlelit dinner alone.
Ever since Michael came into the picture, we hadn’t had the chance.
"Okay, I’ll let you know soon..." Betty sounded thrilled, her voice tinged with emotion, perhaps realizing how rare this date was for us.
Two hours later, Betty and I sat in a Western-style restaurant, looking at each other, all else fading into insignificance.
Betty was still Betty; her body might not have been untouched, but that was just a concept.
Her body was the same as before, even if Michael had left his "mark" on her.
The physical traces were long gone, washed away, but overcoming the psychological barrier was the main challenge.
At the dinner table, we put everything aside and just enjoyed the tranquility.
Betty cut a piece of steak and fed it to me, and I did the same for her.
Onlookers might glance over with knowing looks, seeing an old couple still so in love, unaware of the complexities of our relationship.
Michael’s room remained off-limits in our home, a place we avoided unless absolutely necessary.
Everything there was left unchanged, as if preserved for something, and Betty felt the same, perhaps not wanting to touch those memories again.
Our dinner ended in quiet contentment.
On the way home, we didn’t drive or take a cab; instead, Betty linked her arm through mine, and we walked.
We didn’t speak much, just took in the familiar streets and enjoyed the quiet of the night.
What should have been a half-hour walk took us over an hour.
When we reached our building, neither of us felt tired, even though it was past 11 PM.
We had lingered over our meal, reluctant to leave that setting.
As we reached our doorstep, we stopped in our tracks.
There, sitting on the stairs, was a figure with a suitcase and a backpack beside him, his face buried in his knees, seemingly asleep and snoring softly in the chilly night air...
