Everything started on a summer day when my uncle Richard unexpectedly called me. We hadn’t been in touch for a long time, but that wasn’t unusual—he was always reserved and preferred solitude.
When I picked up the phone, his voice sounded in a way that immediately made me uneasy. “Lucy, you have to come. I have something important to tell you,” he said.
I went to him right away, worried about what might have happened. My uncle had always been a private person, and his request for help seemed strange to me. When I arrived, he was sitting in his armchair by the window, looking very pale and exhausted. His eyes, usually so bright, were now dull, and he didn’t even stand up to greet me as he always did.
“Uncle, what’s wrong? You don’t look like yourself,” I asked anxiously.
“I’m having trouble with my eyesight,” he replied in a weak, trembling voice. “It’s getting worse.
I sat down beside him, not knowing what to say. Uncle Richard had always been full of energy, and it was hard for me to believe that he was struggling with such a problem.
“Have you been to the doctor?” I asked.
“No,” he replied. “I don’t know what they’ll say, but I think I need to stop pretending that everything is fine.”
From that day on, I started helping my uncle around the house. He complained more and more about his worsening vision, and even simple tasks, like reading or making coffee, became difficult for him. I didn’t doubt his words—he looked lost and confused.
But with each passing day, I noticed more and more strange things. Sometimes, he seemed to get lost in his own home, as if he were waiting for someone to guide him. He would leave his cane behind and act as if he didn’t know where he was. At times, I even caught him trying to peek when he thought no one was watching. I began to suspect that not everything was as he claimed.
This went on until one evening, exactly a month after his supposed “blindness” had begun. I was sitting on the couch when I heard strange noises coming from the kitchen. I got up, sneaked over, and peeked inside. What I saw shocked me.
Uncle Richard was standing in the kitchen, carefully scanning the shelves and reaching for a jar of jam.
When he heard my footsteps, he froze in place, his face turning red with embarrassment.
“What are you doing?” I asked, unable to believe my own eyes.
“You figured it out?” he said, lowering his head.
“You… you were pretending this whole time?” I couldn’t believe it.
He let out a deep sigh and slowly sat down at the table.
“I’m sorry, Lucy,” he said. “But I had to find out who truly cares about me, who would stay by my side when things got tough.
I felt my anger fade away, replaced by understanding.
“You wanted to know the truth?” I asked.
“Yes,” he replied. “I’ve always taken care of myself. But now, as I grow older, I need to know who I can truly rely on. I saw how some relatives started avoiding me, and it hurt me deeply.”
“Why didn’t you just tell us about this before?” I asked.
“I couldn’t take the risk,” he said quietly. “I didn’t know who was really there for me and who just thought I was dying or wanted something from me. I had to be sure. And now, after all these months, I know who I can count on.”
My anger was completely gone, replaced by sympathy.
“We went through a lot because of you, Uncle. But now I understand. You just wanted to know the truth.”
He nodded.
I know all of this was difficult. But I didn’t want to leave everything to those who don’t truly care about me. You’ve always been there for me, Lucy, and I want you to know—when the time comes, I will entrust my affairs to you.”
This conversation was surprising and strange, but I realized that his actions had been about finding true love and support.
“Thank you for understanding me,” he said softly. “I’m sorry for the deception, but I had to find out who would stay by my side no matter what.”
I sat beside him, feeling that I could truly understand him now.
“I understand, Uncle. I really do.”
From that day on, Uncle Richard and I became much closer. He never pretended again, and I no longer saw hidden motives behind his illness. He was my uncle—a man who taught me one of the most important lessons in life: love and loyalty are not shown through words, but through actions.
