Michael, a child marred by an unhappy childhood, harbored a twisted psyche, especially due to his father's harshness.
Only his mother showed him kindness, which perhaps sowed the seeds of an Oedipal complex within him.
Whenever Laura's na ca up, a mix of longing and affection flickered in Michael's eyes—mostly reflecting his yearning for his mother, yet tinged with an indefinable emotion towards Laura, hinting at deeper, more complex feelings.
At this mont, my own heart was in turmoil.
It felt like a ss had just been dumped on .
Suddenly, there was Michael, a son who appeared out of nowhere, a potential ho-wrecker, and a man who had deceived twice.
He was psychologically disturbed, yet I couldn't simply ignore him.
What was I supposed to do?
Should I just leave Michael to fend for himself with Luna?
Guilt over Laura gnawed at , leaving indecisive...
I found myself bereft of any clear thought, utterly disoriented by the magnitude of the shock.
I could no longer respond to Michael's questions.
I slowly stood up, feeling unusually light, brushed past Michael—barely noticing his gaze—and walked out of the room.
Luna was standing outside the door, having waited there the whole ti.
Her face showed concern as she opened her mouth to speak but then thought better of it and remained silent.
Descending the stairs, I moved forward slowly, hearing the faint sound of footsteps behind .
Without looking, I knew it was Luna following .
I didn't pay attention to the process until I reached the villa's main door, my thoughts finally catching up with .
I was at a crossroads, unsure whether to go ho or back to the hotel.
The world seed vast, yet I felt I had nowhere to belong.
"Maybe you should stay here tonight..." Luna's voice ca from behind, sensing my distress.
She looked worried as she spoke, her eyes pleading.
"Let's not send Michael abroad just yet. Give so ti to think," I said, then headed towards the familiar path leading to the hotel.
I didn't want to face Betty, Michael, or anyone else.
I just needed so ti alone.
Michael was my son, a reality I struggled to accept.
Was I supposed to feel joy?
But as I sorted through my emotions, I found no trace of happiness, only a deeper sorrow.
To think that I had a child in this world, a child born of my first love.
What would happen if Betty found out?
How could I face her then?
Perhaps she wouldn't care now, but how could I continue to question Betty's reasons for her infidelity?
My relationship with Laura was a thing of the past, and perhaps it didn't need to be dredged up, but the unexpected arrival of this child...
Would I not beco a man with a child, marrying Betty, a single woman?
Was that fair to Betty?
Unaware, I had reached the hotel entrance, but after hesitating, I turned away and headed ho instead.
Reaching my front door, I took out my keys and opened it.
The familiar sll of cooking greeted .
Betty wasn't sitting at the dining table as usual but stood in the living room.
When she heard the door open and saw , a subtle look of surprise and relief crossed her face.
If she hadn't been restraining her emotions, she might have sighed deeply.
"I'm back... Let's eat," she said, rushing over to hand slippers, her actions overly ingratiating.
I numbly changed shoes and sat down at the dining table.
Before I arrived, Betty must have paced back and forth in the living room, worried whether I would return.
Although she knew it was unlikely, she had still prepared a lavish al.
The surprise on her face when she saw return was unmistakable.
"Betty, have you thought about where we go from here?" I asked, sitting at the dining table without touching the silverware.
"I don't expect your forgiveness, but I want to spend the rest of my life making ands. You can treat however you see fit," Betty said, her head bowed, visibly tense.
My every word seed to control her nervous system, dictating her emotions.
"Do you want it to be just the two of us, or the three of us?" I asked, looking directly at Betty.
"Just the two of us..." Betty hesitated briefly before responding.
Everyone hesitates when answering tough questions, but whether Betty's hesitation was about accepting the situation or considering Michael, I couldn't tell.
"Alright..." I had already made up my mind.
Although I knew what Betty would say, I needed to gauge her response.
Despite a fleeting mont of hesitation, she seed to accept the situation.
As for Michael, it seed best to arrange for him to stay elsewhere for a while, and he definitely needed psychological therapy.
I didn't speak or eat; instead, I slowly changed my shoes and left the room.
"Where are you going?" Betty asked, her voice trembling with nervousness as she ran up to , her hands reaching out but stopping mid-air, unable to touch .
I didn't respond to Betty and walked out of the house.
Instead of walking as I had when I first arrived, I hailed a taxi and headed straight for the villa.
Upon arriving, thankfully Luna was still there, surprised by my sudden appearance, but Michael was nowhere to be seen.
"Co with ..." I said to Luna, heading straight to the study, with Luna obediently following.
"You're aware of Michael's situation, aren't you?" I didn't beat around the bush.
"I know so of it..." Luna seed uneasy facing .
"Let's not send Michael abroad for now," I stated my decision directly.
"Why? Just because he's your... You know it's dangerous to keep him close. What are you going to do?" Luna was visibly agitated, seemingly eager to dissuade .
"I owe him and his mother that much. Let's not send him abroad just yet. Please find the best psychologist for him," I pleaded with Luna, feeling a bit embarrassed for troubling her repeatedly, especially since we weren't exactly close.
"Justin, you should know, not everything can be cured. Michael's chances for recovery are slim; he's grown up already. It's like trying to change the shape of a waterlon after it's matured. If you wait until it's fully grown to change its shape, there's only one way to do it, and that's to destroy it," Luna said coldly, which was typical of her deanor.
"We have to try, for Laura's sake. I have to save him. It's better late than never," I said before turning to leave.
"And in the anti..." Luna's voice trailed off behind .
"When you feel he's been treated, send him back here," I replied as I returned ho.
Betty was still sitting at the dining table.
When I entered, she seed to snap out of a long period of crying, quickly wiping her tears with her sleeve—a departure from her usual habit of using a handkerchief or tissue.
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