So one afternoon, I made the decision.
“Come stay at my place.”
Susan immediately shook her head.
“No.”
“You shouldn’t be alone.”
“I’ll manage.”
“That’s exactly what my mother used to say.”
Something changed in Susan’s face.
For several seconds, she just stared at me.
Then she whispered, “All right.”
Three weeks later, my silent house was filled with medicine bottles, blankets, bowls of soup, and quiet conversations.
Susan’s relatives only appeared after another neighbor finally managed to contact them.
And they arrived furious.
Greg demanded that Susan return home.
Marcy accused me of separating her from her family.
Another relative called me a manipulator.
Soon they were throwing around words like lawyers, emergency guardianship, police reports, and financial exploitation.
Greg told people I was waiting for Susan to leave me her inheritance.
I refused to argue.
Whenever they left, I simply returned to Susan’s room and checked whether she needed anything.
