Carl's job was simple.
He brought me three meals a day, made sure I took my medication.
Occasionally, he pushed me outside for some fresh air.
Once his tasks were done, he would leave without saying a word to me.
The neighbor lady said I was wasting my money. "You should have him stay with you 24 hours. Look at you—you're almost getting bedsores."
"I can hire someone else for other things."
I said, lowering my head in embarrassment.
It wasn't that I had money to burn.
I just... I just didn't want Carl to see what I had become.
Under my clothes, my muscles had atrophied, my skin had lost its elasticity.
I was incontinent, and my body reeked.
I could endure the physical pain of my illness,
But I couldn't bear the humiliation.
I wanted Carl's last memory of me to be of someone beautiful.
Having Carl with me in my final days was enough.
I didn't dare ask for more; I didn't deserve to.
That afternoon, Carl brought me braised beef for lunch, but I couldn't chew it at all.
I remembered how my mother's braised beef was the best when I was a child. My father and I would always fight for the last piece.
Suddenly, I wanted to go home. I asked Carl to take me back.
I missed my mom.
"That's not part of my job."
"If you take me home, your work for the day will be done," I said with a smile. "That way... you won't have to see me as much."
Carl hesitated for a moment but finally agreed.
I gave him the address of my new home—it wasn't the upscale neighborhood from before but an old, rundown building in a remote area.
The apartment was on the first floor, but there were still a few steps in front of the building.
Carl couldn't find a ramp for the disabled, so he bent down and lifted me in his arms.
As I lay in his embrace, for a moment, it felt like old times...
But as soon as he opened the door, Carl's face darkened.
He frowned at the man in an apron standing inside.
"Who are you?"
