Chapter 2

Three years ago, Papa had a stroke.

I was working overtime at the office that day when the phone rang; it was our neighbor, Martha Higgins.

"Elias Montgomery, your pops fell! In the bathroom! I heard the crash and went to check!"

By the time I rushed to the hospital, Papa had already been wheeled into the emergency room. The doctor diagnosed a cerebral infarction, leaving him with right-sided hemiplegia. He warned that Papa might never be able to stand up again.

I called Arthur.

"You keep an eye on him for now," he said. "I'm swamped with a project here and can't get away."

I called Beatrice.

"Oh my god, this is so sudden! Elias, you handle it for now. It's really hard for me to ask for time off..."

Papa stayed in the ICU for eight days. Signing papers, paying bills, talking to the doctors—I handled all of it.

During those eight days, Arthur made exactly two phone calls. The first was simply to ask, "How's the situation?" The second was a directive: "Keep track of the medical bills for now, and we'll split them later."

Beatrice sent a single ChatLink message: "Thanks for your hard work, little brother. I'll come over as soon as I'm done with work."

She never came.

On the ninth day, Papa was transferred from the ICU to a regular ward. Half of his body was paralyzed, and his speech was severely slurred. He needed to be fed, helped to the bathroom, and physically turned over in bed.

The doctor was blunt: "He needs long-term, dedicated care."

I looked at Papa lying on the hospital bed, and he looked back at me. He opened his mouth, unable to form the words clearly, but I understood him anyway.

"Elias..."

I took his hand and said, "Pops, I'm right here."

That night, I sent an email to my company requesting a position transfer to a less demanding role.

When Arthur found out, his response over the phone was dismissive: "That's fine, your salary isn't high anyway."

My monthly salary was eight thousand five hundred. It wasn't a fortune, but it was mine.

My sister-in-law, Diana, chimed into the Family ChatLink Group: "It's great that Elias quit his job to take care of Pops. He's not married anyway, so it's perfect."

Her message was immediately followed by a string of thumbs-up emojis.

Great-Great-Aunt added, "Elias is such a filial son."

Uncle Albert replied, "Elias is so sensible."

But no one said, "I'll come help."

Not a single one of them.