“So that day,” Grayson said, his gaze fixed on the road ahead, “I was driving late at night when I saw your grandfather in the bush. He was lying there, helpless. I didn’t think much about it. I just stopped and took him to my place quickly, before anything else could happen to him.”
His voice was steady, but there was something careful in the way he spoke, as if he were choosing each word with intention.
Betty sat beside him, her fingers wrapped around the cup of coffee that had already gone cold. Her chest felt restless, tight with unease. She turned slightly toward him, studying his profile in the light of the dashboard. She was searching for cracks in his calm, a twitch in his jaw, or anything that felt like a lie.
“Are you… a medic or anything?” she asked, lifting the cup and takin
