Relief rushed through me, but I held it in.
“If she cries, fire her,” he added. “If she prays over me, throw her out.”
“I don’t pray over grown men,” I said. “Only bills.”
Nora laughed quietly.
The next day, I started.
I learned quickly—how to move him, feed him, care for him. He tested me constantly, sharp words, cold looks. But I didn’t break.
And slowly, something shifted.
Behind the anger, I began to see the man he used to be. The losses. The silence he lived with.
And somehow, without either of us planning it, the walls between us began to crack.
One night, we sat in quiet, sharing a simple meal. No insults. No tension.
Just two people, tired in different ways, finding something human in the middle of everything broken.
There was no miracle.
But little by little… things started to come together.
