Robert never allowed me to talk about it.
“Forget it. You can’t bring back the dead.”
So I suffered in silence.
The years passed.
When I turned seventy-five, my health began to deteriorate.
At first, I simply got tired more easily.
Then I started experiencing dizzy spells.
One morning, while cleaning someone’s house, I fainted.
The homeowner immediately called an ambulance.
But when Robert found out, he was furious.
“You’re in the hospital? Then who’s going to work tomorrow?”
When I returned home, he didn’t even ask how I was feeling.
Two weeks later, my condition became much worse.
I could barely climb the stairs.
One evening, I begged him:
“Robert, please take me to the doctor. I’m scared.”
He looked at me with disgust.
“I’ve supported you for fifty years, and now you expect me to pay for your medical bills too? You’ve become a useless old woman.”
