Hidden Desires - Family Secrets-Chapter 141 Everything was shattered by what I had left Part1

As I walked away, the sounds of Michael and Betty’s passionate encounter relentlessly invaded my ears, wild and intense.

I flung the door open without any attempt to muffle the sound, yet it was drowned out by their fervent lovemaking.

My steps and the opening of the door were unmasked and loud, but it didn’t seem to disturb the frenzied intimacy between mother and son inside.

I glanced back one last time at the slightly ajar door, the sounds of their lovemaking echoing in my ears, all hope drained from me.

In the final moments before I stepped out, I pulled from my pocket the diamond ring I had bought for Betty, along with my promotion letter.

These were meant to be gifts for her, to at least celebrate our anniversary together.

But now, it all seemed pointless.

I left the ring and the letter on the shoe cabinet by the door.

Taking one last look at what used to be my home, I closed the door behind me, shutting out all sounds.

This place was no longer mine.

The only thing I took from the house was the memorial tablet of my parents.

I descended the stairs in a daze, moving slowly, my mind a blur, nearly tripping several times.

Wrapped in my clothes, I carried the memorial tablet of my parents.

Having been an orphan, Betty’s presence had once given me a sense of home.

Now, I had lost that sense again, returning to the loneliness of my childhood, orphaned and raised on the charity of others, enduring hardships unknown to many.

Now, once again, I was utterly alone.

Stepping out into the fresh air, I looked up at the dark starry sky, wondering what sins I had committed.

I wasn’t a saint, but I hadn’t done anything to deserve this ruin.

Even at work, I tried to be fair, sharing even what I deserved with others.

I had honored Laura’s dying wish, never expecting to bring home a betrayal that would leave me with nothing.

I couldn’t believe this was my fate.

People say good deeds are rewarded, so why was I being punished like this?

As I left the complex, I looked back at my apartment building, catching a glimpse of Michael’s window, the light still on.

The curtains, which had been half-drawn earlier, were now fully closed, likely because they had stripped down completely by now, seeking privacy for their acts.

The sounds of their encounter, Michael’s heavy breathing, the squelching of their movements, and the thuds of their bodies, all seemed to echo in my ears.

Dragging myself along the streets, I felt like a zombie.

I hadn’t driven; my car was still parked under the apartment building.

There was a spare key at home, but I didn’t want to take anything more.

I left everything to Betty, as a final repayment for her years of supposed loyalty.

Standing on the street, I clutched the memorial tablet of my parents, unsure of where to go.

I wrapped the tablet in my clothes again, slinging it on my back like a lone wanderer leaving his hometown.

After securing the tablet, I glanced at a nearby store, a convenience store I often visited.

I walked in and bought a twelve-pack of canned beer.

The cashier greeted me normally, but I left the money on the counter and walked out, leaving behind only their puzzled stares.

I opened a can of beer and continued walking, turning corners aimlessly.

I didn’t know how long I had walked, but I had already drunk half of the twelve-pack.

When I opened the seventh can, I found myself on the bridge over the river.

It was a cold night, and the bridge was nearly deserted.

The alcohol kept me warm, and although I usually had a high tolerance, tonight the few cans had made me feel light-headed.

Carrying the beer had become a burden, so I sat down on a concrete block on the bridge.

I sat on the cold concrete ledge, my feet dangling over the churning river below, completely ignoring the danger signs nearby.

I just sat there, can after can of beer in hand, contemplating the possibility of drunkenly plunging into the river below, letting the currents sweep away my body to wherever, with the memorial tablet of my parents by my side, perhaps finding my parents in heaven.

As I popped open the last can of beer, my phone, still set to the ringtone Betty had chosen for me, suddenly rang from my pocket.

I set the beer down on the concrete and struggled to pull out my phone.

It was Betty calling.

Throughout my business trip, I had always been the one to call her.

She used to call me every night, but then she stopped.

Now, out of the blue, she was calling.

Blearily, I glanced at the time; it had been about two hours since I left home.

Perhaps the heated lovemaking session between mother and son had ended.

Maybe Betty had found something?

The diamond ring and the promotion letter?

Or perhaps she hadn’t found them yet and was just whimsically calling to check on me.

I didn’t answer the call, instead, I just stared at the phone’s screen, smiling foolishly.

After about a minute, the call went to voicemail, but then Betty called again.

I simply set the phone beside me and picked up my beer again.

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By now, I was so drunk I could barely sit straight, swaying back and forth, at risk of tumbling into the icy river at any moment.

The phone stopped ringing for a while, then started up again, ringing and going to voicemail repeatedly, all calls from Betty.

After the last voicemail, a text message popped up.

I rarely checked messages anymore, as most were just spam, but given the circumstances, I picked up the phone and read the message from Betty.

It was brief: "Honey, please, pick up the phone..."

Seeing this, I knew she had discovered the items I left behind.

She knew I had been home.

Everything was shattered by what I had left.

But my heart was already dead; did I even desire to answer the call?

What could I possibly say to Betty after picking up?

Just as I read the message, Betty’s call came through again.

I downed the last of my beer and then threw the phone into the river.

Last year, for my birthday, Betty had bought me this iPhone as a gift.

She set up the wallpaper and ringtone herself; it was one of my most cherished possessions.

Now, like my past, I had thrown it into the river.

The phone slowly sank, disappearing into the rolling waters.

Just before it submerged, the screen was still lit, the ringtone still playing, severing my last connection to Betty.

I shook my head, then turned and stepped down from the ledge.

I didn’t fall into the river; perhaps it was a final act of mercy from above, sparing my wretched life.