Daniel looked up from his phone, pretending to be concerned, but I saw the glint in his eye. It was the same look he had as a child when he discovered how to sneak cookies from the jar without getting caught. “Of course, Mom,” he said, feigning sincerity. “We’ll get everything sorted out for you. Don’t worry.”
Over the next few weeks, I became the frail old lady they expected. I stumbled over my words, misplaced my keys, and nodded off during family gatherings. Paula would roll her eyes, and Kyle would whisper snide comments behind my back. I documented everything: the insults, the laughter, the way they treated me like a burden.
