We'll meet again Evelyn Rosewood

Should I tell?

As Beth quietly sneaked back into her dark room, a sense of sadness could be felt. Now, everything was quiet again. John wasn't there.

She changed back into her nightgown and started putting bobby pins in her hair. Right as she was doing it, she heard footsteps. She was supposed to be asleep. Then, there was a knock on the door.

Her mother, a short, curvy woman walked in.

"Elisabeth? Why aren't you asleep?" she asked.

"Couldn't" Beth answered. "Why are you here?"

"I couldn't sleep as well. And I needed to tell you something."

"I needed to tell you something as well. You go first." Beth said.

She walked through the room and sat down on the bed.

"Elisabeth, I know that you don't...agree with the choice of mister McRoy, but I wanted to tell you why..." she couldn't finish.

Beth felt a sting of anger. "Why? So, there's a reason for that torture?"

"I want you to listen."

"You want me to listen? I already said: I don't want to- "

Her mother shifted to a stricter voice, but not louder. "You have to, Elisabeth. I repeat. It's because of a...thing. A thing that your father did."

"Why? What did he do?" Beth started to listen.

"He gambled, Elisabeth. Five years ago, we drastically lost money and your father thought that it was best to invest in gambling."

Beth looked at her mother in disbelief. She never thought father would do such a thing.

"He lost almost everything," she paused. "We all need the money, Elisabeth. Your father is old. I'm old."

"Yes, mother, but how does marrying mister McRoy fit into any of that? I... "

"His family was nice enough to help, in exchange for your hand in marriage, dear."

"How is that normal? Why me?"

"Look..." Mother was by now talking in a trembling voice. "You really want to move out of this house? To get evicted? To look at all our belongings get sold at auctions? Is that what you want?"

"No, I... "

"And then my arthritis? The medication? You want to see your poor mother die, don't you?"

Beth started crying, "No! How could I?"

She was drowning in all the accusations that were thrown at her.

"If you don't, you will do the right thing, dear." her mother closed off the conversation and left the room.

Beth didn't even get a chance to tell her mother what Edward had done.

But her mother did have rheumatoid arthritis, which was a serious, sometimes life-threatening autoimmune disease, that needed very expensive medication.

Beth felt guilt wash over her. Terrible, terrible guilt. She found herself at a crossroad. The weight of the expectations bore heavily on her shoulders as she looked over the decision.

As she mulled over her options while just quietly lying in bed, the thought of John lingered in the back of her head. She knew he would be eager to hear about the outcome of the conversation, but she wasn't ready to share just yet.

Her heart raced as she grappled with the weight of her emotions. The stress of revealing the situation to John gnawed at her, but in that moment of clarify, it hit her like a ton of bricks.