Everyone Was Talking About My “SECRET RELATIONSHIP” With My 77-Year-Old Neighbor After Seeing Me Enter Her Room Every Night at 9 PM — But the Truth Hidden Behind That Closed Door Was Far Heavier Than They Could Ever Imagine 
“You want her house. Or maybe you want something completely chafar different from Susan.”
Tom was shouting so loudly on my front porch that doors across the street began opening one after another.
His sister, Lisa, stood beside him with her arms crossed.
“The whole neighborhood is talking about you two, Jake,” she said. “A 31-year-old single man takes a 76-year-old woman into his home, goes into her bedroom every night, and 48 closes the door. What exactly do you expect people to think?”
I said nothing.
The truth was, I had already heard the rumors.
At first, the neighbors thought I was simply helping Susan.
Then someone suggested that she was planning to leave me her house.
Someone else said I might have gained access to her bank accounts.
But the ugliest rumors began when people noticed that every evening at exactly 9 PM, I entered Susan’s bedroom and kept the door closed for nearly an hour.
Soon, people were whispering that Susan and I were having some kind of “romance.”
Even one of my friends half-jokingly asked me,
“Jake, are you sure you’re telling us the whole story?”
I didn’t answer.
Because about one thing, they were right.
I really wasn’t telling the whole story.
My name is Jake. I’m 31 years old, and I’ve lived across the street from Susan for five years.
During all that time, I had barely seen her family.
Not on her birthdays.
Not during the holidays.
Not even when she began walking with a cane.
Three weeks ago, I noticed that her morning newspaper was still lying outside her door that evening.
I knocked.
No answer.
When I went inside, I found Susan sitting on the kitchen floor, leaning against the wall.
She was so weak she couldn’t even stand.
At the hospital, the doctor pulled me aside.
“She can’t live alone anymore.”
We called her relatives.
Tom didn’t answer.
Lisa said she was busy with her children.
Another relative promised to come the following day.
Nobody came.
Two days later, I brought Susan to my house.
I turned my spare bedroom into her room. I organized her medication by the hour, learned how to prepare the foods she could still eat, and woke up several times during the night to make sure she was okay.
