Attached was a medical statement describing me as suffering from “increasing memory impairment.”

The room seemed to tilt.

I grabbed the counter.

“I don’t have memory impairment.”

Daniel’s expression hardened.

“We know.”

Sarah stared at Greg as though she no longer recognized him.

“What were you trying to do?”

Greg remained silent.

And suddenly, everything connected.

Every joke.

Every comment about my age.

Every time Sarah called me old-fashioned.

Every time Greg told relatives I had been “forgetful lately.”

Every time they corrected my memory when I knew perfectly well what had happened.

They had been constructing a narrative.

A version of me who was aging.

Confused.

Unable to manage her own affairs.

A version that would make it easier for someone else to control my finances.

My stomach turned.

“You were going to have me declared incompetent.”

“No!”

Greg’s voice cracked.

“I was trying to protect everything!”