Hidden Desires - Family Secrets-Chapter 200 Reality wouldn’t change by my avoiding it Part1

Betty’s hand slowly crept onto my stomach, inching towards the waistband of my sleep pants.

Just then, a crucial memory flashed through my mind.

I quickly grabbed Betty’s hand, stopping it from venturing further.

Caught by surprise, Betty paused, her expression one of utter astonishment, perhaps thinking I had a change of heart mid-way.

"I need to wash up first, I haven’t showered since I got back..." I said, exhaling a sigh of relief as I got up and headed to the bathroom.

The thing I remembered was that I hadn’t showered or cleaned my penis after being intimate with Luna.

Traces of our lovemaking were still there, and the thought of Betty discovering them sent me rushing to the bathroom to clean up.

But before I could turn on the faucet, something else in the bathroom caught my eye.

It was a subtle detail that could easily be missed if not looked at closely.

The clothesline in the bathroom was filled with various garments, including underwear belonging to both Betty and Michael.

Given the limited space in our home, it was inevitable that their undergarments would end up together, but what was unusual was how closely Betty’s and Michael’s underwear were hung together.

This was definitely not normal.

Betty, who usually did the laundry, would typically separate her underwear from Michael’s when hanging them to dry.

Yet here they were, intimately close.

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It made me wonder if Betty had washed them together.

The stark contrast between her narrow panties and his broad boxers, especially with the pouch on Michael’s boxers prominently bulging, presumably shaped by his genitals, was hard to ignore.

All these were just my speculations, but the implications were clear if Betty had indeed washed and then hung their underwear together.

However, it could also just be a coincidence.

Perhaps Betty had separated their underwear for washing because I was away, and she simply didn’t pay attention while hanging them to dry.

Or was I overthinking it?

After all, it wasn’t unusual for a mother to take care of her son’s laundry.

My mind was a whirlwind of confusion.

The encounter with Luna had already left me disoriented, and now this discovery disrupted my usually sharp journalistic instincts.

After pondering for a long while, I took a deep breath and decided to put these thoughts aside for the moment and focus on the immediate task at hand.

I turned on the shower, cleansing myself thoroughly.

Yet, throughout the shower, my eyes uncontrollably darted back to the pair of undergarments, one large and one small, distinctly male and female.

After finishing my shower, I stood in the bathroom for a long time, hesitant to step out and face whatever might be waiting.

"Honey, are you okay?" Betty’s voice came from outside, snapping me back to reality.

"I’m just feeling a bit off..." I took a deep breath and opened the bathroom door, finding Betty standing there with a worried look.

"What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?" she asked, her concern evident.

"It’s just a bit of jet lag... Let’s go to sleep," I replied as we stood in the living room, our voices echoing in the empty space.

"Tired, huh? Well, let’s get some sleep then..." As we lay back down, Betty glanced at my lower half, her expression twisting awkwardly, tinged with a hint of disappointment.

I didn’t offer any explanation, just closed my eyes.

I hadn’t expected that a simple lie would spare me from intimacy.

After being with Luna, would being with Betty reveal too much?

Moreover, given my current emotional state, I wasn’t even sure if I could perform.

If I couldn’t, it would only add to Betty’s disappointment, each failure compounding her frustration.

Betty seemed restless beside me, her face resting on my shoulder, then lifting away as if to look at me, only to settle back down.

I sensed she wanted to speak but didn’t know how to start.

I too had questions for Betty, questions I couldn’t bring myself to ask.

I couldn’t just ask, "How have you and Michael been getting along? Why are your panties hung next to Michael’s?"

It seemed I would have to look to the home surveillance for answers.

That’s when I remembered the home surveillance system hadn’t been checked in over half a year.

I wasn’t even sure it still worked, especially since Michael wasn’t home, leaving just Betty and me.

Surveillance systems need regular maintenance, and it had been a while.

I was just hoping it could still serve its purpose.

I was somewhat relieved I hadn’t dismantled it, clinging to that last bit of suspicion...

The next day, I got up early.

Betty was making breakfast, everything seeming so normal.

While I was getting ready, Michael returned from his workout abroad.

Educated abroad, Michael had adopted the habit of early morning workouts.

Already muscular, he looked even more imposing now, dripping with sweat in his tank top, his dark skin and muscles almost professional in their appearance.

After breakfast, I headed to work, my mind far from focused, troubled by both home affairs and thoughts of Luna.

Somehow, I made it to noon.

With no one around, I pulled out the laptop I often used, though I hadn’t opened the surveillance program in ages.

As I launched the program, I took a deep breath, fearing what I might see.

I had come to accept Michael and forgive Betty, but the emotional turmoil was almost more intense than any undercover assignment I’d ever had.

Rubbing my face, I knew I had to face whatever might come.

Reality wouldn’t change by my avoiding it.

Knowing everything was the only way I could be at peace, even if it meant facing the worst.

I opened the surveillance program, my hand trembling slightly as I clicked the mouse.

But I was stunned to see that all the screens were black.

I searched the storage folders, which were full of files dated and organized, but every video I opened was just more black screens, some with snippets of sound, but garbled and indecipherable.

Frustrated, I thought maybe the computer had crashed or the program was buggy.

I restarted the program, but still, black screens.

Finally, I rebooted the laptop, but nothing changed.

After countless attempts and restarts, I slumped back in my chair, agitated.

The surveillance system had failed due to lack of maintenance, recording nothing of use.

The one thing that could have given me answers was gone, making my mood even worse and my thoughts heavier.

Everything felt more complicated, shrouded in mystery...