“I’m still here, beta.”

So Priya stayed.

Day after day, she cooked, cleaned, washed, helped with physical therapy, and fed Amma.

On cold days, when Amma shivered, Priya massaged her with warm oil and covered her limbs so she could sleep peacefully.

Even when she was exhausted, Priya cooked her favorite porridge and gave it to her spoonful by spoonful.

Amma looked at her with silent gratitude—too deep for words.

Twenty years passed.

Gray hair began to appear in Priya’s hair.

Neighbors murmured in admiration:

“Who in this life has a heart like that?”

Some men tried to woo her.

She gently shook her head:

“As long as Amma is alive, I can’t leave.”

One day, Amma’s health began to deteriorate.

She called Priya, took her hand with trembling fingers, and whispered:

“Thank you, my child… But there is something I never told you.”