“Grandma …,” Amora called softly, her voice barely above a whisper.Slowly, she reached for her grandmother’s frail hand, skin stretched so thin it felt like it was barely clinging to the bone. She didn’t dare hold it too tightly, afraid she might hurt her. Still, the gesture was enough to draw the old woman’s gaze toward her.“Grandma,” Amora called again.But Gilda Orlena still didn’t answer. The old woman just stared at Amora with eyes that seemed unfamiliar, distant.Amora knew her grandmother had been struggling with dementia for a long time, making it difficult for her to remember the things she once did so easily. The nursing home staff had scheduled regular treatments and therapy for her, but even though Gilda no longer recognized her, Amora refused to give up.“Grandma, it’s me, Amora. I’ve come back,” she said in a shaky, tearful voice that finally broke into sobs.And miraculously, Gilda reacted. She blinked several times as if digging deep, trying to find the answer buried
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