Feeling that Betty was no longer by my side, I quietly got out of bed, and just like last night, I pressed my ear against the door, listening intently. But I didn't hear a sound.
Unlike last night, I didn't step out of the room. First off, I was sure I wouldn't discover anything, and besides, I had already installed a camera in Michael's bedroom. All I needed to do was retrieve the camera tomorrow and check the footage to see if there had been any inappropriate behavior between them.
I tried to fall asleep next, counting sheep until I finally drifted off.
In the morning, the alarm woke me as usual, and when I stepped out of the bedroom, Betty had already prepared breakfast. During breakfast, Michael seemed a bit more cheerful. I've always had limited interaction with him; he was very close to Betty but seemed somewhat distant with me. However, I wasn't too bothered by it. My mind was more occupied with what the camera might have captured.
On my way to work, I drove back home to retrieve the camera from the curtain in Michael's bedroom. I wasn't worried about being caught. As a seasoned journalist, I had plenty of experience with covert photography, dealing with savvy government officials and extremely cautious illegal traders without ever slipping up. Snapping a couple of unguarded individuals like Michael and Betty was a piece of cake.
Once at the office, I connected the camera to my computer. As a news reporter, we keep our sources and materials confidential, so I had a relatively private workspace. It wasn't quite a personal office, but it was certainly better than most of my colleagues had.
I plugged the USB cable of the camera into my computer and started playing the video, feeling a bit nervous. I hoped I wouldn't find anything.
I clicked through the footage, starting from around the time I went to bed last night. I distinctly remembered the last time I checked before falling asleep was at 9:37 PM, so I started from there.
Before Betty entered Michael's room, I noticed something odd about Michael's behavior. In the past few days, whenever Betty and I saw Michael, he was always quiet. When Betty told him to go to his room to sleep, he would quietly lie on his bed, staring at the ceiling. But in the video, once Betty and I were back in our bedroom, Michael wasn't under our "surveillance" anymore, and he suddenly became restless.
He tossed and turned in bed, occasionally running to the window to pull back the curtain and look outside, and then he even started playing with his phone.
Nowadays, with the economy doing well, a smartphone doesn't cost much, so most kids have one. Michael, coming from a wealthy family, was no exception, and his phone was even better than mine.
Watching Michael play on his phone, I wondered, was this still the kid I knew?
At this moment, why couldn't I see any sadness or helplessness in him?
Was it because he didn't dare to play with his phone in front of me or Betty, fearing criticism?
Although students are allowed to bring phones, teachers and schools strictly control their use, especially since Betty, as his guardian and homeroom teacher, would be strict about it.
Or was he always pretending, always playing the role of a good kid?
I found myself sinking into doubt. As a journalist, reading people is a basic skill, yet I found it ironically hilarious that at this moment, I couldn't completely see through a child.
Michael seemed really into his phone, totally absorbed. It didn't look like the behavior of a kid who had just lost his parents less than ten days ago. Was he just really resilient, or was he using the phone to distract himself from the pain of his loss? I shook my head and rubbed my temples. Guessing a kid's thoughts with an adult's mind is no easy task. Despite being 35, this was my first time being a dad, and I had zero experience in raising kids, let alone understanding them.
While I was lost in thought, I noticed Michael suddenly stop using his phone. He quickly put it on standby and shoved it under his pillow, then lay back down, staring at the ceiling as if nothing had happened. Soon after, I saw the door to Michael's room open, and there was Betty, wearing that new conservative nightgown she bought, walking in with a look of affection.
Ah, that explained it. Michael had been playing on his phone all along but was also keeping an ear out for any sounds from our bedroom. Hearing the door, he knew Betty was coming.
"Teacher, you're here..." Michael turned his head and squeezed out a small smile as Betty entered.
"Still awake, huh?" Betty's face flickered with a subtle hint of disappointment when Michael called her 'teacher.' She had always wanted to be a mother, and even though Michael wasn't her biological son, she deeply wished he would call her 'mom' to fulfill her maternal desires.
"I can't sleep without you here, teacher," Michael said, his expression somewhat lonely, making Betty's face soften even more with affection. Even though he didn't call her 'mom,' this kind of attachment was probably the best illustration of their relationship.
"Alright, I'll stay with you until you fall asleep," Betty said with a laugh, her expression a mix of annoyance and amusement.
Betty took off her slippers and lay down next to Michael. She turned on her side, placing one hand gently on his chest and patting it softly, like a mother soothing her recently weaned child to sleep. Watching this, I couldn't help but find it funny. Michael was a teenager; did he really need this much coddling? Betty really was clueless about being a mother, treating Michael like a little kid.
"Teacher, can we chat for a bit tonight?" Michael suddenly opened his eyes and turned to speak to Betty.