Secrets Behind Closed Doors
As the years passed, I began noticing things.
Grandma frequently wrote letters by hand, then locked them away before anyone could see them. She took private phone calls. Sometimes I would overhear fragments of conversations.
One evening, while carrying a tray of soup to her room, I heard her say:
“She must never know. Not yet.”
The moment she noticed me outside her door, the conversation ended.
Questions filled my mind. What was she hiding? Why all the secrecy?
Yet every time I tried to ask, she changed the subject.
So I focused on taking care of her.
And waited.
