The uncle

chapter18

Laura nodded, tears now sliding silently down her cheeks. “I ran, and I regretted it every single day. But when Bennette found out about you, I thought… maybe this is the second chance I never gave myself.”

Betty stared at her mother, heart pounding. “You left me with a man who could have done to me what he did to you.”

“I didn’t think he would,” Laura whispered. “He never laid a hand on you when I was there. I thought… maybe he’d be different with you.”

Betty stood, her legs shaky, her throat tight. “You thought wrong.”

“I know,” Laura said, rising to meet her. “I live with that guilt every day.”

Betty didn’t know what to feel. Pity. Rage. Grief. It all swirled in her chest, hot and choking. She wanted to scream, but more than that, she wanted to disappear.

“You should have come for me,” she whispered. “Even if you were scared. Even if you were broken.”

Laura reached for her, but Betty stepped back. Not yet. Not now.

“I just needed you to tell me the truth,” Betty said. “I’ve hated you for so long. And now I don’t know what to do with all of that.”

“You don’t have to forgive me,” Laura said quietly. “But I’m here now. And I won’t leave again.”

Betty turned and walked away, her mother’s words echoing behind her. She didn’t know if she believed her. But she knew this: the truth, no matter how painful, was better than silence.

Betty barely made it to her room before the weight of it all pressed hard on her chest. Her mother's confession replayed in her mind like a cruel lullaby—soft, broken, and laced with pain.

She yanked the door open, desperate to shut the world out, when she nearly collided with Chris.

“Betty,” he said, startled, his voice gentle.

Her face crumpled at the sound of her name. “Please… not now.”

But the dam had broken.

Tears spilled fast and hot down her cheeks. Her breath came in shallow bursts, and no matter how tightly she wrapped her arms around herself, she couldn’t hold it all in. The grief. The betrayal. The aching loneliness.

Chris stepped closer. “Betty, what happened?”

She shook her head and tried to push past him, but he caught her arm—not roughly, just enough to stop her from vanishing into silence.

“I said not now!” she choked out, but her voice cracked mid-sentence, and she collapsed against his chest, sobbing.

He didn’t say a word. He just wrapped his arms around her, holding her like he knew she’d fall apart if he let go. She clutched at his shirt, her tears soaking into the fabric as his hand gently moved up and down her back.

They stayed like that in the hallway for a long moment—no words, just the sound of her crying and the steady rhythm of his breathing.

Eventually, she pulled away slightly, ashamed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t…”

“Don’t,” he said firmly. “Don’t apologize for feeling.”

Without asking, he followed her into the room and closed the door behind them. She sat on the bed, wiping her face with her sleeve, her body still trembling.

“She left me,” she whispered. “My mum. She let him hurt her… and she left me behind.”

Chris crouched in front of her, his eyes searching hers. “She was hurting, Betty. That doesn’t make it right, but it’s… it’s not about you.”

“But it is,” she said. “Because I’m the one who had to grow up without a mother. I’m the one who kept wondering what I did wrong.”

Chris didn’t try to fix it. He just sat beside her, letting the silence speak.

When she finally looked at him again, her eyes were swollen, but there was something new in them—something raw and open.

“I hate that you understand,” she said. “But I’m glad it’s you.”

His breath caught. “Betty…”

She reached for him—unsure whether it was comfort or something more—but he came willingly, meeting her in that charged, aching space between sorrow and desire.

Their lips met softly at first. Her fingers gripped the back of his neck, and he kissed her like she was fragile glass and wildfire at once. When she pulled him closer, the kiss deepened, need and emotion spilling over.

It wasn’t just attraction—it was two people clinging to something real, something that made the pain bearable.

When they finally pulled apart, her head rested against his chest. He held her there like a promise.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered. “Even when everything else falls apart.”

And for the first time in years, Betty let herself believe it.

The next morning, the world felt heavier but somehow clearer. Betty stood in front of the mirror, brushing her hair, her mind still spinning from the night before—Laura’s confession, her own breakdown, and the way Chris had held her like she was made of something worth saving.

She touched her lips unconsciously, remembering the kiss, the warmth of his breath against her skin, the way his arms had made her feel safe for the first time in years.

But that safety came with confusion. Complication.

Especially now.

At school, Betty tried to be normal. She smiled when spoken to, nodded through class, answered questions when called upon. But the one thing she couldn't do was look Dean in the eye.

Dean wasn’t stupid. He’d been noticing her drift away for weeks now—small things. How she no longer laughed at his jokes. How she stopped replying to his messages immediately. How she seemed… distracted. But today was different. Today, she didn’t even try.

“Hey,” he said, catching up with her by the lockers. “You okay?”

Betty blinked, forcing a smile. “Yeah. Just tired.”

Dean nodded, studying her. “You’ve been tired a lot lately. Anything I should know?”

She gave a half-laugh, trying to make it light. “You sound like my therapist.”

“Maybe I should be,” he said, softer. “It’s just—I don’t know. I feel like I’m losing you, Betty.”

The guilt hit her unexpectedly. She hadn’t realized how deeply he cared—or how far she’d let things go without clarity.

“Dean, I—”

“Don’t say it’s nothing,” he cut in, his voice quiet but pointed. “Don’t stand there and pretend like we haven’t had moments. You liked me. You still do, don’t you?”

Betty swallowed. She opened her mouth, but no words came.

Dean’s eyes darkened slightly. “It’s him, isn’t it?”

Her breath caught. “What?”

“That guy. Chris. The one you live with.”

She blinked. “What are you talking about—?”

“People talk, Betty. I didn’t believe it at first. I thought, nah, she wouldn’t. Not with her—uncle.”

“He’s not my uncle,” she said quickly, more defensive than she intended. “And it’s not like that.”

Dean stared at her, eyebrows raised. “Really? Because I’ve seen the way you look when his name comes up. And I’ve seen the way you look at me now—like I’m just a leftover.”

“That’s not fair,” Betty said, the guilt twisting in her chest. “I have been going through a lot at home.”

He stepped forward slightly, pain flickering across his face. “ With him?”

“ With my mum, you know my relationship with her is difficult.”

“ I am so sorry, I don’t know what is going on with me.You are so distant.” Dean held her hand.

“ I will do better .” She smiled.

She stood there, Something inside her ached—not for Dean in the way he wanted—but for the innocence of what they used to be. A school crush. Flirting between lessons. The comfort of being liked.

But it was never love.

As she walked toward the parking lot after school, the rain began to drizzle. She pulled up her hood and made her way to the car, her head bowed.

When she got back, she found Chris in the sitting room, talking softly with Bennett. He glanced up the moment she entered. Something about her face must have given away what had happened, because Chris stood up immediately.

“Betty?”

She shook her head. “Not now.”

But he followed her, the same way he had the night before.

She didn’t run this time. She let him walk with her to her room, where she threw her bag on the floor and sat at the edge of her bed, hands in her lap.

“I am hurting someone,” she whispered. “Someone who didn’t deserve it.”

Chris sat beside her. “Dean?”

She nodded. “He thought I liked him. Maybe I did… or maybe I just liked the idea of being liked. Either way, I led him on.”

There was silence, then Chris said gently, “You’re not a bad person, Betty. You’re figuring yourself out. That’s not a crime.”

“But I’m dragging people into my mess. Dean. My mum. Even you.”

• Chris turned to her. “You’re not dragging me anywhere I don’t want to be.”

She looked up. “Why?”

“Because I care about you,” he said quietly. “More than I should. And I don’t want to walk away, even if it’s messy.”

She studied him. The way his voice trembled slightly. The way his eyes lingered on.

She leaned in to kiss him but the door opened and Chris quickly stood up.

“What happened to you?” Laura asked looking at her wet clothes.

“It was raining.” Betty said feeling guilty. She felt like her mother had almost caught her committing a sin.

“I will see you later.” Chris said calmly and walked out of the room.