Hidden Desires - Family Secrets-Chapter 269 Italian dumplings

Although it had been less than two days since I watched the video playback, I had come to understand everything about Michael.

What stood out most was his feelings for Betty.

His emotions transcended mere familial love or simple affection; it was a fusion of kinship and romantic love elevated to a sublime level.

Perhaps this was tied to Michael’s childhood experiences and the early death of Laura, his mother.

Michael’s psyche harbored a slight distortion, bordering on the perverse.

His feelings for Betty were complex, seemingly finding in her a mix of regret and compensation for Laura’s departure, coupled with the thrill of first love.

Moreover, Betty was undeniably a stunning and charismatic woman, her looks and aura irresistible to any man.

Thus, Michael’s obsession and dependency on Betty had reached an indescribable intensity.

From another perspective, this was pathological.

His possessiveness had spiraled out of control, and it was only then that I realized how terrifying Michael could be.

After Betty left the house, Michael continued to watch videos on his laptop.

He watched slowly and meticulously, editing as he went, which took up a considerable amount of time.

He analyzed as he watched.

By noon, Michael felt his stomach rumble.

Being in a phase of physical growth, his nutritional needs were substantial, and he got hungry quickly.

He glanced at the clock and decided it was time to start making lunch.

He entered the kitchen and saw the food Betty had prepared that morning.

Touching his nose thoughtfully, a sudden idea seemed to strike him, and his eyes widened before he busily got to work with renewed vigor.

I watched Michael on the screen, curious about his next move.

Michael fetched some ingredients from the fridge, items he had bought himself the previous day.

These were unusual ingredients that weren’t commonly used, like cheese and salad dressing.

Michael got busy.

He mixed some eggs, flour, and milk to make dough, then began making dumplings, adding cheese to the filling along with vegetables and fresh meat.

He shaped the dough into little pouches, then wrapped the dumpling filling in a unique way, making them look like small bags before boiling them in a pot.

The process was intricate and required meticulous attention to detail.

At this point, I recognized that Michael was preparing a type of Western-style dumpling, a dish with a unique flavor that I had once enjoyed during a business trip to Italy.

The Italian dumplings were soft, creamy, and deliciously sweet.

I was impressed that Michael had this culinary skill.

After preparing the Italian dumplings, Michael carefully packed them into a thermal container, filling it generously.

Once he was done, Michael dressed up and, with a burst of excitement, left the house carrying the thermal container.

The video feed went silent, and I leaned back in my chair.

After being on edge for so long, I finally had a moment to breathe, though my nerves were still tense.

I knew Michael was taking the lunch to Betty, having prepared it especially for her.

As the minutes ticked by, with no surveillance footage from the school, I could only imagine the scene: Betty busy in her office when a knock came at the door.

Opening it to find Michael standing there with the thermal container was an unexpected sight for her.

She had been pondering what to eat for lunch in the cafeteria, but here was Michael, delivering her favorite dish.

Previously, it had always been me who took Betty out to enjoy fine dining.

She hadn’t traveled as extensively as I had and was mostly confined to our local city, rarely even leaving the state.

Our dining adventures were limited to local restaurants where we enjoyed steaks, salads, and pasta.

Betty had certainly never tried Italian dumplings before.

I could imagine Betty savoring the exquisite meal Michael had prepared, a dish she had never experienced before.

I knew Betty’s tastes well, and she would definitely love the Italian dumplings.

Interestingly, Michael hadn’t eaten lunch himself and had taken all the dumplings with him, likely more than Betty could finish on her own.

When Betty realized Michael hadn’t eaten lunch either, they shared a meal together in her office, turning it into a private lunch date.

They chatted and laughed, filling the office with sweet laughter.

Betty’s gaze towards Michael surely shifted subtly, captivated not only by the delicious Italian dumplings but also touched by his thoughtful gesture—a level of intimacy I had never offered her.

This was Betty’s first taste of such personal attention, and I wondered how she felt about it.

Caught up in my daydreams, I suddenly started coughing violently, snapping me back to reality.

I had unknowingly lit a cigarette while lost in thought, despite having quit smoking long ago.

This subconscious act showed how deeply I was immersed in my fantasies.

My body trembled slightly as I struggled to steady the cigarette between my lips.

How likely was it that my imagined scenario was playing out in reality?

The thought pained me, like a husband traveling abroad only to have his beloved wife swept away by another man at home.

As I pondered, the video suddenly came alive with sounds again.

It had been over two hours since Michael had left, and now the sound of the door opening filled the room.

Michael returned, smiling broadly with the empty thermal container swinging in his hand.

Seeing his cheerful demeanor, I knew my imagined scenario must have been close to the truth.

Remembering the amount of dumplings he had taken, and now seeing the empty container, it was clear Betty couldn’t have eaten them all by herself.

I sighed again, realizing that Betty’s second fall was not as simple as the first, and far more profound.

After returning, Michael began cleaning up.

The empty container confirmed my suspicions.

Satisfied, he retired to his bedroom.

Just when I thought he might watch more videos, he lay down on the bed and quickly fell into a deep sleep, his snores filling the room.

Michael slept soundly, and the video showed nothing but his snoring.

I reluctantly fast-forwarded through the footage.

In the evening, the door opened again—Betty was home from work, but Michael was still asleep.

It made sense; he had been up night and day watching videos and was utterly exhausted.

Betty entered the dark house, finding it odd that no lights were on.

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She turned on the lights, removed her shoes, and looked around, puzzled.

Michael’s shoes were by the door, which made her wonder if he had gone out in different shoes.

The doors to our bedroom and the bathroom were ajar, making it easy to see inside, though the lights were off.

Betty paused at the closed door of Michael’s bedroom, took a deep breath, and approached the door.