After venting my emotions, I drifted into a fitful sleep, tormented by guilt and self-reproach. When I woke the next morning, regret weighed heavily on my heart. Feeling ashamed, I kept my head down during breakfast, not daring to meet my mother's eyes.
Mom seemed to notice my unusual behavior and asked with concern, "What's wrong? Are you feeling unwell again?"
Of course, I couldn't tell her the truth, so I brushed it off with a vague excuse: "No, I just stayed up a bit late last night."
"You must maintain a proper routine. Even if it means studying less, never stay up late."
"Mm," I nodded, my heart filled with unease. The more she cared for me, the more I felt I had betrayed her trust.
After breakfast, Mom went back to her room and changed into her professional attire. Before leaving, she reminded me, "Remember to take your cold medicine later. Don't think it's nothing just because the symptoms are mild."
I agreed, and as my gaze swept across the room, I accidentally caught sight of Mom standing by the entranceway shoe cabinet, changing her shoes. She leaned slightly forward and to the side, lifting her left leg as she slipped a pair of black pointed-toe high heels onto her nylon-clad feet. Her rounded hips, accentuated by the tight skirt, appeared even fuller and more alluring in that posture, like ripe peaches tempting to the eye.
My mind went numb, as if jolted by an electric shock. Adhering to the principle of "do not look at what is improper," I quickly squeezed my eyes shut and covered them with my hand.
Just then, Beibei happened to pass by and asked curiously, "What are you doing?"
"The sunlight is too bright," I lied.
Unaware of the situation, Mom glanced back and urged, "Stop fooling around. Hurry up and get changed for class." With that, she left for work.
After Mom left, Beibei looked at me, crossed her arms, and frowned. "Why do you seem a bit strange?"
"Strange how?"
"I can't quite put my finger on it, but you seem guilty." Beibei's big eyes darted around mischievously as she grinned slyly. "Did you do something bad and are afraid Mom will find out?"
I had to admit, a woman's intuition could be quite accurate at times. I was indeed guilty, and what I had done was something I feared Mom discovering, but I certainly wasn't about to confess to a little girl like her.
Seeing my silence, Beibei pressed further, "What did you do? Tell me. Did you skip class to go play? Or did you steal money from home again?"
I turned around, placed my hands on my hips, and retorted loudly, "You sure have a lot of time to meddle in other people's business! Have you finished your summer homework? Have you completed your social survey report? Have you written your daily journal? School is about to start, and you're still acting like you have nothing to do, wandering around all day."
Struck where it hurt, Beibei frowned, pouted, and muttered, "You devil!" Then she stormed into her room, slamming the door behind her, refusing to come out.
During the day at the tutoring center, I spent my time in repentance. What happened last night must never happen again. I had finally earned Mom's forgiveness, and if I made another mistake, there would truly be no redemption.
But once the door of desire is opened, it's like unleashing Pandora's box—not so easy to close again.
My longing for Mom had been forcibly suppressed all along, and the more I suppressed it, the stronger the rebound became.
Since that night, every smile or frown from Mom would set my heart racing, and I would secretly observe her every move.
I'm truly afraid of sinking deeper and deeper into this quagmire, unable to free myself in the end.
But human nature is often like this—the more you suppress something, the stronger the desire becomes.
I don't want to keep sinking, but after all, I live under the same roof with Mom, and there's no way to avoid it.
That day, when I returned from tutoring class, Mom was busy cooking in the kitchen. I went back to my room to change clothes and was just about to use the bathroom when the phone on the living room sofa suddenly rang.
Mom called from the kitchen, "Bring me the phone."
I picked up Mom's phone from the sofa and walked toward the kitchen. Unintentionally, I glanced at the screen and saw the caller ID: "Mr. Zhou." My heart inexplicably tightened.
Mom stood by the stove wearing an apron. After handing her the phone, I didn't rush to leave but silently stood nearby.
Just as Mom was about to answer the call, she suddenly turned her head and glared at me, asking, "What are you doing standing here?"
"Um..."
Before I could think of a reason, Mom said, "Get out."
I slowly walked out of the kitchen, pressed myself against the wall, and pricked up my ears to listen to what was happening inside.
I could hear Mom laughing cheerfully as she said, "Why are you calling me so early... I'm just cooking for the kids... I'll come over after dinner. Eight-thirty, same place as usual... If I'm late, please be patient and wait for me a little longer."
After Mom hung up, I returned to my bedroom, sat at my desk, and scratched my head hard, wondering who this Mr. Zhou could be.
Mom's tone when she spoke to him sounded quite happy.
From what Mom said, it seemed like she was meeting that man tonight. What could they possibly be doing so late at night?
Thinking about it carefully, Mom had indeed been going out at night a lot recently. Could it be that she's been dating this Mr. Zhou all along?
A man and a woman, meeting at night—the more I thought about it, the more it weighed on my heart.
If this had happened before, I definitely wouldn't have thought about it in terms of a romantic relationship, because Mom would never have betrayed Dad.
But now that they're divorced, even if Mom starts dating again or even finds me a stepfather, it's perfectly understandable.
A stepfather...
Is Mom planning to remarry?
No! There absolutely cannot be a stepfather.
The more I thought about it, the more anxious I became. My heart was in turmoil, and I felt utterly panicked. During dinner, Mom noticed my troubled expression and asked, "What's wrong? You look so preoccupied. What are you thinking about?"
Before I could say anything, Beibei mocked, "He probably realized he's not cut out for Tsinghua University, but since he's already bragged about it, he doesn't know how to explain it to you, so he's depressed."
Mom shot her a glare and then looked at me with concern. "Are you feeling unwell again? Or is the pressure too much?"
I was indeed under a lot of pressure, but it wasn't from my studies, and I couldn't explain it to Mom. I could only force a smile and say, "Maybe the pressure is a bit too much."
Mom still wasn't reassured. "Are you feeling okay? Are you still uncomfortable?"
"I'm fine, I'm fine."
Even as I said I was fine, my heart was racing with panic. If Mom really is dating this Mr. Zhou, what should I do?
After dinner, Mom sat on the sofa, head bowed as she played with her phone, occasionally letting out a silly giggle at the screen. The more I watched, the more something felt off—Mom rarely showed such a girlish, naive side of herself.
I really wanted to ask her directly who this Mr. Zhou was, but I figured she wouldn't be honest with me anyway. Asking would be pointless and might even tip her off.
Seeing me pacing back and forth nearby, Mom couldn't help but ask, "Why aren't you in your room studying? What are you wandering around here for?"
"Just taking a walk."
"Who takes a walk in the living room? If you're feeling bored, go downstairs for a stroll."
"I'm not going downstairs. I'm taking my walk right here in the living room." I'd made up my mind—I wasn't leaving her side. I absolutely couldn't let her go meet that so-called Mr. Zhou.
Mom held her phone, biting her nails as she looked up at me without saying a word. Her stare made me uncomfortable. "Why are you looking at me like that?" I asked.
"I feel like you're acting a bit strange tonight."
"Really? I'm always like this."
Mom ignored me after that. She played with her phone for a while, then went to the bedroom, tied her hair into a ponytail, and came out wearing a tracksuit.
I had assumed she'd dress more formally for a date, but she was dressed so casually.
She usually wore tracksuits when going out, so I'd always thought she was just heading downstairs for some exercise. I never imagined she was going on a date with that Mr. Zhou.
Mom crouched by the entrance, changing into her sneakers. I stood behind her and asked, "It's so late—are you still going out?"
Mom paused. "It's only eight o'clock. How is that late?"
I pressed further, "Where are you going?"
"Why do you care where I'm going?"
"Can I come with you?"
"No."
"Can't you… not go out?"
"Why not?"
I nervously picked at the lacquer on the shoe cabinet, hesitating before saying, "It's just… it's dangerous for a girl to go out alone at night."
Mom turned and glared at me. "Are you worried about me, or are you making fun of me?"
"Of course I'm worried about you!"
Mom rolled her eyes and ignored me. After tying her shoelaces, she stood up to leave. Panicking, I leaned against the wall and let out a loud groan. "Oww! Oww!"
Mom turned back. "What's wrong?"
"I'm dizzy and feel awful. I think I might have a fever."
"A fever?" Mom came over and placed her hand on my forehead to check my temperature. "You don't feel warm," she said, puzzled.
Her palm was cool and smooth as jade, and it felt nice. I mumbled, "You're not a thermometer. How do you know I don't have a fever?"
Mom stared at me for a moment, then seemed to catch on. She pulled her hand away and said, "Don't try that trick with me." She turned to leave, but I bent over, clutching my stomach, and groaned loudly again. "Oww! Oww!"
Mom turned back, annoyed. "What's wrong now?"
"My stomach hurts."
"If your stomach hurts, go lie down in your room. Why are you putting on a show here?" Mom scoffed lightly, then turned and left through the door.
I waited a moment, quickly changed into my sneakers, and followed her out.
But once I got downstairs, I couldn't find Mom anywhere.
Disappointed, I headed back home, only to unexpectedly receive a message from Mom: "Following me?"
(???)
Hah! So Mom had already taken precautions. Truly, no one knows a son like his mother; she really understands me.
Back at home, my mind preoccupied with thoughts of Mom, I had no interest in returning to my room to study. Instead, I paced anxiously back and forth in the living room, glancing at the clock from time to time.
Beibei was sitting on the sofa watching TV and couldn't help asking, "Why aren't you in your room reviewing your lessons? What are you wandering around here for?"
I shot back, "What do you think Mom goes out to do every night?"
"How should I know?" Beibei tilted her head and thought for a moment. "Probably just taking a walk."
"I don't think it's that simple."
"Then she couldn't possibly be going square dancing, could she?" As she said this, Beibei couldn't help laughing. "What would Mom look like dancing square dance with others?"
I muttered quietly, "I'd rather she went square dancing."
"What?" Beibei didn't catch what I said.
Suddenly raising my voice, I demanded, "Still watching TV? Have you finished your summer homework yet?" I was panicking inside but couldn't explain it to her, so I just vented my emotions at her.
Beibei was taken aback, looking at me with confusion. "Why are you being so weird today? Did you take the wrong medicine or something?"
I paced a few more steps in the living room, then abruptly sat down beside her. "What would you think if Mom wanted to remarry?"
Beibei was startled, her eyes widening. "Huh? Mom's getting remarried?"
"I'm just saying if."
"If… then I'd wish her well. I'd prefer if Dad and Mom got back together, but if Mom really found someone suitable, of course I wouldn't oppose it."
"No way! Think about it—we're already so old. Suddenly having a stepdad would be so uncomfortable. And what if he brought a daughter along? Wouldn't that mean another sister?"
"I don't really mind, as long as Mom likes him." After a pause, Beibei seemed to sense something was off and suddenly asked, "Why are you so nervous? Could it be… Mom really is getting remarried?"
"I'm just saying."
I waited anxiously in the living room for Mom to come home. The clock on the wall ticked away, making every moment feel like an eternity.
At half past ten, Mom finally returned. Seeing Beibei and me sitting side by side on the sofa, she asked in surprise, "Why aren't you in your room reviewing? Why are you watching TV instead?"
Ignoring her question, I replied unhappily and sarcastically, "You're back early enough."
"You're being ridiculous." Mom shot me a glare but didn't pay me much attention, heading toward the bedroom. I quickly followed and pressed, "Mom, where did you go?"
"None of your business."
Mom's face was flushed and covered in a light sheen of sweat, clearly from some intense exercise.
Standing by the bed, she grabbed the hem of her sports T-shirt and lifted it halfway, revealing her fair, smooth back. Suddenly remembering I was there, she quickly pulled the shirt back down and turned to glare at me. "Get out."
"I'm not leaving unless you tell me what you were doing just now." I turned my face away, refusing to look at her, acting stubborn.
Mom said impatiently, "Am I your mother, or are you mine? Do I have to report everything I do to you?"
"Alright then, tell me, who is Mr. Zhou?" I hadn't planned on asking, but keeping it bottled up was just too uncomfortable.
Mom glared at me, surprised. "You went through my phone?"
I muttered, "I just happened to see it."
She shot me a sidelong glare. "Ling Xiaodong, since when do you get to meddle in my business?"
"I'm just worried you might get tricked by someone shady."
Mom retorted irritably, "The shadiest person in the world is you! Get back to your room and study. Stop worrying about things that aren't your concern."
"Just tell me, please." Seeing that my usual stubbornness wasn't working, I switched to acting cute.
"Out, out!" Mom impatiently shooed me away.
That night, lying in bed, I tossed and turned, unable to shake the feeling that Mom had been acting strangely lately—like she was deliberately hiding something. She also didn't seem as invested in my studies as she had been before.
No, no, I had to figure this out. Otherwise, it was going to drive me crazy.
But then again, why did I care so much about Mom's social life? Was I worried for Dad's sake?
Yes! I was worried about Dad. If I didn't do something soon, Mom might run off with someone else, and then it would all be over for them. They'd never get back together.
But how could I make Mom change her mind?
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