17

"Grandma, come on, you've helped me enough. I can't take this," I tried to tell her, but I guess she won't listen to me.

"No, no, sweetheart, this is not enough. Trust me, and besides, this place is good, and that way, I can be assured that you're safe," she glanced around the place.

"But, grandma, you already helped me set up the restaurant. In fact, you did most of the work," I said with a frown on my face.

"And that's my work, sweetheart. Now, this is your new house," she said in a cheerful voice. I like this free side of her; she acts like a teenager, a 60-year-old teenager, for that matter. I smiled at that thought.

"Hey, Gran, your daughter hates me so much, and I thought you hated me too, but surprisingly you love me," I said, only for her to smack on my forehead. "Ouch, what was that for?" I asked her as I rubbed my forehead.

"That was to knock some sense into your head," she shook her head. "Silly girl, that's my daughter and not me. If she doesn't like you, that's her loss, n