"I'm partly to blame for all this," Betty confessed, her voice thick with turmoil.
"That night, I just didn't want to embarrass you."
"I didn't know how to face you, afraid that waking up would hurt your pride."
"I thought you'd know where to draw the line, but I ended up sending you the wrong signals... What should I do now?"
Her voice faltered, the weight of the consequences tangling her thoughts even more, pushing her to the brink of tears.
"Mom, don't cry," Michael interjected, his voice firm despite the quiver of uncertainty.
He clenched his teeth, mustering a facade of resolve.
"When Dad comes back, just blame it all on me."
"Say I drugged you... that I... I forced myself on you."
"I won't let you suffer or be hurt."
Watching Michael adopt this manly stance, I felt a twinge of disgust from behind my computer screen.
Yet, Betty was visibly stunned, her face a mix of surprise and confusion.
Could it be that Michael had so easily swayed her?