My heart dropped.

“No, she didn’t,” I replied, a little embarrassed now by how I’d just snapped.

He nodded slowly and walked away. No drama, no yelling. Just quiet.

I sat down on the edge of the couch, my mind racing. I had noticed she always looked grateful for the smallest things—like leftovers, or a warm blanket on the couch. She never complained. But I hadn’t really thought much of it. I just assumed she was being polite.

That night, I knocked on their door. She opened it, eyes wide like she was expecting bad news. I asked if we could talk. She nodded.

We sat at the kitchen table, and I asked her gently, “Is it true what my son said? That you