in return.
But Richard never demanded anything.
Every morning, he’d ask,
“How are you today, Nora? Do you need anything?”
“I’m fine,” I’d always answer.
He never believed me.
And strangely, he never pushed.
What surprised me most was how much Richard loved Emily.
He spent hours playing with her.
I would walk into a room and find a wealthy 72-year-old man crawling across the carpet while my daughter rode on his back, pretending he was a horse.
Sometimes he’d sit at her tiny table and drink imaginary tea from a plastic cup.
For such a serious man, he looked ridiculous.
And I started smiling whenever I saw them together.
One afternoon, I was exhausted after finishing my errands.
Richard brought me a cup of tea.
“I’m supposed to be taking care of you,” I said.
“Then consider this my rebellion.”
Slowly, Richard stopped being the wealthy old man I
