There, on the bed, lay two figures—a man and a woman.

At bedtime, I was lounging in bed with my iPad, while Betty slipped into a new set of pajamas.

This ensemble, a conservative combo of pajama top and bottoms, completely covered her usually eye-catching figure. However, Betty's ample chest stretched the fabric taut, looking like it might burst the buttons at any moment.

Betty seemed uncomfortable in this conservative nightwear, shifting around as if trying to adjust to the feel of it. Eventually, she couldn't take it anymore.

With a thought that seemed to strike her suddenly, she peeled off the pajamas and ditched her bra, revealing her vibrant assets and the soft pink of her nipples.

After freeing herself from the bra, she slipped the pajamas back on, her face relaxing into a hint of relief.

Many women find bras uncomfortable, preferring the freedom of going without one at night. Usually, Betty slept in a nightgown with her bra on, but tonight, the discomfort was too much, and she opted for comfort over habit.

After sorting herself out, Betty playfully pouted at me and gave me a light punch, her face a mix of annoyance and jest.

Despite her playful jab, I felt a warmth in my heart, knowing she had changed a long-standing habit because of a few words from me.

When it was time to hit the sack, I popped in a pair of earplugs, a new necessity after being startled awake by Michael's nightmares the past few nights.

My job is exhausting, and every bit of sleep is precious. Michael's midnight screams had been seriously messing with my rest, so I had to block out the noise. It might seem silly, but it had to help, at least a little.

Betty chuckled softly at my makeshift solution, and I just shrugged and buried myself under the covers for a deep sleep. Before I knew it, I was out cold, only to be rudely awakened later by a pressing need to pee.

As a journalist, I usually don't get up at night, but last night's dinner had me downing a couple of beers, leading to these inconvenient nocturnal trips.

Groggily checking the time, I saw it was past three in the morning. Surprisingly, I hadn't been woken by Michael's nightmares, which meant the kid must be getting better at managing his dreams.

Half-asleep, I reached out to grab a handful of Betty's chest—a mischievous habit of mine when I got up before her or in the middle of the night. Usually, this would earn me a sleepy swat from her, but this time, my hand found only empty space.

Wide awake now, I grabbed my phone to light up the area, only to find Betty wasn't beside me. Where could she have gone?

The bathroom?

I quickly got out of bed and tiptoed to the door, then made my way to the living room. Peeking into the bathroom, I saw the light was off.

Who turns off the light for a midnight bathroom break?

Although I doubted Betty would be in the bathroom, I still turned on the light and peeked inside, only to confirm she wasn't there. I couldn't bear to think about the other place she might be; I couldn't believe Betty would sneak off there while I was asleep.

I started searching in the kitchen, the balcony... but found no trace of Betty. There was only one place left unchecked—Michael's room.

My body trembled as I approached, my heart pounding. I tried not to let my thoughts wander into dark territories, but I couldn't help worrying and imagining the worst.

As I reached Michael's door, I noticed something odd. The door, which had been left ajar the past few days, was tightly closed tonight. My hands were sweaty as I hesitated, lacking the courage to turn the knob. What if I opened the door and saw something I never wanted to see?

It wasn't that my thoughts were unhealthy. Michael, though only thirteen, was already in puberty, a phase when boys are essentially capable of adult actions. And Betty?

Despite my trust in her, my physical limitations had left her unsatisfied for a long time. She had never strayed before, but now, with a young, vigorous boy around, could she have betrayed me? Anything seemed possible...

The more I thought about it, the more frightened I became. I shook my head to clear it.

First, I gently pressed my ear against the door, trying to hear any sounds from inside. Perhaps the door was too soundproof, as I couldn't hear anything, which somewhat reassured me.

Gathering my courage, I took a deep breath and gently pressed down on the doorknob. The door made a slight creak as I pushed it open, a sound that startled me, though I hoped it hadn't alarmed anyone inside.

I held the doorknob down, frozen, as sweat dripped from my brow. I listened intently for any reaction from inside. What if I had startled someone?

As I pondered, I suddenly felt ridiculous. Even if I discovered something, so what?

I hadn't done anything wrong. Why was I sneaking around?

With that realization, I gently pushed the door open, and the scene inside deeply stung my heart.

There, on the bed, lay two figures—a man and a woman. It was indeed my newly adopted son Michael and my beloved wife Betty. They were lying on the crisp new sheets. I staggered, nearly fainting.

The room was too dark, so I turned on the flashlight on my phone and shone it toward the bed. To my relief, both were fully clothed.

Betty was in her new pajamas, looking very conservative and tidy. Michael was also in a new set of pajamas, lying on his back, sound asleep. Betty was lying next to him, facing him, with one hand on his chest in what seemed to be a comforting gesture.

I sniffed the air lightly, checking for any hint of male hormones, but all I could smell was the scent of air freshener. Nothing else.