Chapter 3

Greg kept that same patient expression, walked over, and tucked the blanket around Grandpa's shoulders.

"Sir, if you're not comfortable with me, I can talk to the director and have someone else assigned to you. How does that sound?"

Grandpa went completely silent. A flash of fear crossed his eyes.

I thought it was guilt. I even resented him a little for being so unreasonable.

"Grandpa, can you please stop this?"

"I pay all that money so you can be taken care of."

"Greg does so much for you, and you're accusing him of things like this — does that seem right to you?"

Grandpa opened his mouth. Tears spilled down his face.

He let go of my hand, turned onto his side, and lay with his back to me — shoulders trembling.

I felt awful too. But I wasn't wrong.

He was confused. I couldn't let his confusion pull me under too.

The drive home, my mind was a mess.

Eight thousand eight hundred a month — nearly half my salary. I'd agreed to it without flinching because I wanted Grandpa to have a good life.

Why couldn't he understand that?

The next day, Greg sent me a few photos.

Grandpa sitting in a wheelchair in the sun. Greg crouched beside him, clipping his nails. Both of them smiling.

Greg sent a voice message too. "Lily, your grandfather is in a much better mood today. I took him outside for some sunshine and got him to eat half an apple. Don't stress — older folks just need a little extra love and attention."

I felt a warm rush of gratitude. Greg really was a good person.

That evening I called Grandpa, hoping to smooth things over.

It rang for a long time before he picked up. His voice sounded flat.

"Lily..."

"Grandpa, did Greg take you outside today? Did you have a nice time?"

Silence on the other end.

After a long pause, he said, "Lily, do you trust me?"

My stomach dropped.

"He pinched me again. Outside in the sun, when no one was around — he pinched my side. He said if I told on him again, he'd pull out my teeth..."

My anger flared instantly.

"Grandpa! Why do you keep making things up like this?"

"Greg sent me photos. He was crouched down clipping your nails, smiling like he loves you. Why would he pinch you?"

Low, muffled sobbing from the other end of the line.

"You don't believe me. You never believe me..."

I took a deep breath and forced my voice steady. "Grandpa, it's not that I don't believe you. The doctor said this disease causes hallucinations."

"Think about it — if Greg were really doing that to you, could he smile like that?"

"He puts on an act. Everything nice he does is an act..."

"Enough!" I cut him off. "I'll come see you this weekend. Stop overthinking and get some sleep."

After I hung up, there was a heaviness in my chest I couldn't shake.

My friend saw the look on my face and asked what was wrong.

I told him everything. He let out a long breath. "That's just how dementia goes. My grandpa was the same way — kept saying I stole his money when it was sitting under his pillow the whole time. Don't get worked up over it. Just go along with whatever he says and keep him calm."

I nodded. He was probably right.

That weekend I went to the nursing home and knew something was off the moment I walked in.

Grandpa was sitting on the bed. When he saw me come in, his first reaction wasn't happiness — he flinched back.

"Grandpa?"

He kept his head down, wouldn't look at me.

I walked over and tried to take his hand. He pulled away.

"Grandpa, what's wrong?"

Still nothing.

Greg came in carrying a plate of fruit, greeting me with a smile. "Lily, you're here! Have some fruit — I just cut it."

At the sound of Greg's voice, Grandpa's whole body jerked.

For just a moment, something nagged at me.

But Greg seemed so completely normal — smiling warmly, casually mentioning that Grandpa had eaten half a bowl of rice, that his mood had been pretty good today.

I pushed the feeling aside and told myself I was reading too much into things.

As I was leaving, Grandpa suddenly grabbed my arm. His eyes were red.

"Lily, are you coming back next week?"

"Yes. Of course I will."

He nodded, let go, and curled back onto the bed — small and still, looking so fragile.

I stepped outside. Greg caught up with me, his manner careful.

"Lily, there's something I'd like to run by you."

"Go ahead."

"Your grandfather has been saying some confused things lately, and it's been disturbing the other residents."

"I was thinking — would it be possible to move him to a private room? The cost is a little higher, about two thousand more per month. What do you think?"

My chest tightened.

"What has he been saying?"

Greg sighed, looking pained.

"You know — saying I've been pinching him, hurting him. Honestly, it doesn't bother me personally. I know who I am. But it's not a good look."

"If other families hear it, they might think we actually mistreat residents here."

My face went hot with embarrassment.

"Greg, I'm sorry. He's causing you trouble. I'll think about the private room — money's a little tight right now."

"No rush, no rush. I just wanted to mention it. It's for your grandfather's sake too."

On the way home, the more I thought about it, the worse I felt for Greg.

He worked so hard caring for these elderly residents, and my grandfather was putting him through this — with not a single complaint.

I decided I needed to do something.