He looked tired, but there was a sudden stiffness in his shoulders.

“She’s just confused,” he muttered, looking away from me.

“It’s the new environment. The move.”

“No,” I said, turning on the bedside lamp. “This isn’t just confusion.”

“She didn’t even know who I was, Nathan.”

The bright bulb illuminated the tight, anxious lines around his mouth.

“Tell me the truth,” I said. “How long has she been like this?”

He let out a long breath, staring down at the mattress.

“A few months,” he whispered.

“A few months?”

My voice rose, and I quickly lowered it, remembering Lily sleeping down the hall.

“You told me she was just lonely after her apartment lease ended.”

“You told me she wanted to be closer to us.”

“I didn’t want you to worry,” he said, finally looking at me.

“I can handle it, Chloe. I’m a doctor.”

“You’re a surgeon, Nathan, not a geriatric specialist,” I retorted.

“And this is our daughter’s safety we’re talking about.”

He reached for my hand, but I pulled away.

“She has moderate cognitive decline,” he admitted, the words coming out in a rush.

“The doctor in her hometown diagnosed her last winter.”

“She forgets where she is. Sometimes she thinks she’s back in the old house.”

“The old house?” I asked. “The one that burned down?”

Nathan flinched slightly.

“Yes,” he said. “She gets confused about the past and the present.”

I stared at him, feeling a cold knot form in my stomach.

He had lied to me for months, bringing his mother into our home under false pretenses.

“We need to get her professional help,” I said.

“I won’t have her wandering into Lily’s room in the middle of the night.”

“Just give it a few days,” Nathan pleaded.

“Let’s see how she does at breakfast. If we establish a routine, she might settle down.”