Had Betty tried to call?

What should have been a nice dinner, which I had put a lot of effort into, now tasted bland to Betty and me. Michael, blissfully unaware, was happily munching away.

Betty kept piling food onto his plate, never once glancing my way. I could only sigh helplessly in my heart, having never been at odds with Betty like this before.

Betty took her time eating, but she didn't eat much; she was mostly just keeping Michael company. Once Michael was done, Betty also put down her fork.

At the dinner table, with Michael there, I couldn't explain things to Betty—some things are best not discussed in front of kids. After dinner, Betty started cleaning up, and I went back to the bedroom to wait for her, hoping to have a good talk and clear things up.

But once the kitchen noises stopped, I heard Michael's room door open and close. My heart skipped a beat. I opened the bedroom door and saw that Betty was no longer in the living room or kitchen; clearly, she had gone to Michael's room.

Feeling suffocated inside, I couldn't hold back any longer. I walked towards Michael's room door.

"Click..." I set aside my pride and opened the door, finding Michael doing his homework and Betty helping him.

"Can we talk in our room?" I asked directly.

"Don't disturb the child doing his homework..." As soon as I finished speaking, she stood up, came to the door, and closed it in front of me, cutting off my view of her and Michael.

I could only dejectedly return to my own bedroom, waiting. Michael couldn't possibly do homework forever.

As time ticked by, it was well past our usual bedtime. I couldn't sit still any longer. I stepped out of the bedroom, only to see that Michael's room was dark; the light had been turned off long ago.

A pang of sadness hit me. I hurried over and once again placed my hand on the doorknob.

"Click..." As I pressed down on the handle, the door didn't open—it had been locked from the inside.

I understood everything then, but I didn't give up. I knocked gently on the door, soft enough to be heard by anyone inside.

But after a while, there was no response, only the occasional sound of their voices, as if they hadn't heard my knocking at all, treating me as if I were air.

Feeling my pride challenged, a stubborn streak suddenly surged within me. I stopped knocking and retreated back to the bedroom. Tonight, Betty was staying with Michael again, and it was clear she wouldn't come to see me. At that moment, I felt like an extra piece in the puzzle of this household.

Back in the bedroom, I didn't go to bed. Instead, I quietly dressed myself. It was already past 10 PM. After getting dressed, I grabbed my briefcase and left the room, stepping out of the house.

Was I wrong? I must have been, but Betty's coldness tonight made me incredibly uncomfortable. It seemed best to leave home for the night, to give us both some space to cool off.

As I walked out the front door, there was no sound from Betty in Michael's room, nor did she come out. I wondered if she even knew I had left.

The cold night air hit my face as I descended the stairs, helping to clear my mind. I took a moment to look around the neighborhood and then up at the star-filled sky, pondering where to go. The old familiar place seemed the best choice.

I started the car and drove towards my office. On countless nights, deadlines kept me from going home, and I'd spend the entire night working at the office, occasionally napping on my desk. Now, it seemed the only place I could return to was my office.

Upon arriving, I entered the building and rang the bell to wake the night watchman, who was used to my late-night returns due to the unpredictable hours of a journalist.

The office was pitch dark when I entered. I switched on the lights, and the usually bustling workspace was now eerily quiet, almost hauntingly so, but I was accustomed to it.

I sat down at my desk, exhausted, and massaged my temples. Although my office was comfortable, the day's events had robbed me of any desire to sleep. I had been out for a while and wondered if Betty had noticed.

So far, she hadn't called. Hoping maybe I had missed her call, I pulled out my phone only to find it had turned off. I usually charged it at night, but in my rush, I hadn't thought to bring the charger.

Annoyed, I tossed the phone onto the desk and turned on my computer to distract myself with work.

I am a workaholic, able to forget everything when immersed in work. While working, I needed to copy some files and reached into my briefcase for a USB drive.

That's when I accidentally pulled out the memory cards from the home security cameras I had set up before my trip. After tonight's mix-up, I decided there was no need to check the footage anymore. I placed the USB drive and memory cards on the desk.

Finally finishing my work, it was now midnight. I stretched, worn out.

With no work left to distract me, my worries returned. Had Betty tried to call?

Did she worry about me at all?

Unfortunately, with my phone dead, there was no way to know.

At that moment, sleep was the furthest thing from my mind as my gaze fixed on those memory cards. 

A flicker of realization shot through my brain. I recalled the change in Betty's tone during our phone conversations while I was away on business. 

Initially, I hadn't thought much of it, but my reporter's instincts couldn't ignore that there was something off.

Given the mix-up earlier tonight, could there be some clues in the surveillance footage? I pulled out the card reader and began transferring the videos from the memory cards to my computer.

Once the transfer was complete, I fired up my video software and opened all the files, setting them to synchronize based on the timestamps. This way, the footage from different cameras began to play in sync on my screen.