Chapter 4

"Understanding," I murmured to myself, tasting the irony.

When my dad came to stay with us, Bruce had complained that our apartment was too cramped and insisted there wasn't enough room for him. Now that his dad was coming, Bruce was ready to buy a million-dollar condo right across the hall.

When my dad needed treatment, Bruce had called it a bottomless pit that would leave us with nothing. When his dad fell ill, he was willing to spend every dollar we had.

So, this was what being "understanding" meant. It meant sacrificing my dad for his.

...

After Lindsey left, Bruce was in a good mood. He hummed to himself as he organized the expensive supplements he'd bought into the pantry.

I lay on the bed and checked my phone.

The appointment portal had finally updated: [1 patient ahead of you. Please wait.]

It was almost my turn.

I stared at the screen and whispered under my breath, "Hang in there a little longer, Dad. I'm coming to fetch you."

Bruce's parents arrived the following Wednesday afternoon.

The moment they stepped through the door, Bruce sprang into action. He grabbed their luggage, brought them their slippers, and fussed over them as though they were fragile antiques.

"Dad, Mom, you must be exhausted after the trip. Sit down and get some rest," he said warmly, then turned to me. "Cheryl, bring them some water."

Joanne Bradford walked into the newly renovated guest room and looked around approvingly. "Bruce, you really went all out. This is nicer than a luxury hotel."

Thomas looked grim, sitting silently on the couch. He looked noticeably thinner than when I'd last seen him. His skin had taken on a distinct yellowish pallor.

"Dad, don't worry." Bruce sat beside him and took his hand. "I've already gotten in touch with the top hepatologist in the country, Dr. William Underwood.

"I'm taking you to see him next Monday. His appointments are almost impossible to get. Cheryl had to pull every string she had to get you in."

Once again, he casually took credit for my effort while making sure everyone knew just how valuable and difficult it was to obtain the appointment.

Thomas looked up at me, gratitude flickering in his eyes. "Thank you, Cheryl."

"No problem." I looked down, avoiding his eyes.

Joanne took both my hands in hers, her voice warm and affectionate. "Bruce told me you've been running yourself ragged over Thomas's illness. He said you've even lost weight. We feel terrible making you go through all this trouble for us."

I almost laughed.

Apparently, everyone had assumed that all those sleepless nights and frantic phone calls had been for Thomas.

"It's fine." I gently slipped my hands from hers and gave her a polite smile. "We're family."

"Exactly," Bruce chimed in. "Cheryl has always been such a devoted daughter-in-law. "Oh, Cheryl, where's the broth I asked you to make?"

"It's still warm in the kitchen."

"Go get Dad a bowl. He's been traveling all day. He must be hungry."

His command came so naturally that it barely sounded like a request. I walked into the kitchen and ladled a bowl of broth.

As I carried it out, I couldn't help thinking about the money left by Jack. A single bowl of this broth had cost enough to cover his living expenses back home for half a month.

I set the bowl in front of Thomas. "Drink it while it's hot."

"Cheryl made this especially for you," Bruce immediately added. "She used all kinds of expensive ingredients. It's supposed to be great for your recovery. She even got up at five this morning and let it simmer for three hours."

In fact, I hadn't gotten up at five.

The electric cooker had been set on a timer. But I couldn't be bothered to correct him.

Thomas took a sip and nodded. "Tastes good."

"Then have plenty." Bruce grinned before turning back to me. "And for Dad's meals over the next few days, follow the menu I sent you exactly. Don't change a thing. The doctor said diet is extremely important for patients with liver issues."

"Got it." I nodded, my compliance pleasing him immensely.

He genuinely believed he had everything under control, including me.

...

That night, after Thomas and Joanne had gone to bed, Bruce came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder.

"Honey, thanks for working so hard today," he murmured, his warm breath brushing against my ear. "See? My parents adore you."

I remained silent, my body going tense and rigid.

Oblivious, he continued, "Once Dad gets through treatment and recovers, let's take a trip to the Maldives. We can relax and enjoy ourselves for a while."

He kissed my cheek. His tone was warm, almost indulgent, as though a designer handbag or an expensive vacation could somehow make up for the coldness he'd shown Jack.

"Bruce." I finally spoke. That appointment with Dr. William Underwood... I made it for my dad."