When Mom fell ill, my sister suddenly became the perfect daughter. She moved in with Mom and kept me away, claiming she was taking care of everything. But I knew my sister too well. Her motives were never pure. I couldn’t stop her, but everything changed when the doctor gave me Mom’s final note.I never understood how such different children could grow up in the same family. Not until my sister and I became adults. Our mom raised us by herself, and the older I got, the more I realized how hard it was for her.I remember the tiny apartment we lived in when I was little. It was always cold in the winter, and I could hear the wind whistling through the cracks in the windows. Mom worked two jobs just to keep a roof over our heads, but it was never enough.
Sometimes, there wasn’t much food in the house. I still remember the nights when our neighbor, Mrs. Jenkins, brought us dinner.She would kindly smile as she handed over a steaming pot of soup or a plate of pasta.I didn’t understand back then how much it meant. I only knew that I wasn’t hungry anymore. But I noticed how Mom never ate with us. She would sit quietly, pretending she wasn’t hungry, but I knew the truth.She gave everything she had to us. Over time, though, things got better. Mom found a better job, and slowly, we climbed out of poverty.She saved enough to move us into a nicer house, and eventually, Samira and I went to college.
But Samira didn’t remember those hard times the way I did. She was too young to understand the struggles Mom faced.Maybe that’s why she turned out the way she did. How should I put it? A little selfish and carefree.Even after she finished college, she didn’t want to work. She kept asking Mom for money and spent it like it would never run out.But things took a turn for the worse. One day, Mom called me and asked me to come over.“Is everything okay?” I asked.“Yes, yes, I just need to talk to you,” Mom replied.Her words echoed in my head as I drove to her house after work. I felt uneasy. Mom never called me like that. When I arrived, the front door was open, so I walked in.
“Mom?” I called out.“I’m in the kitchen, honey,” she called back.I walked in and saw her sitting at the table with a cup of tea. Her hands rested on the table, but they looked tired. Her eyes, usually bright, seemed dull.“What happened? What did you want to talk about?” I asked as I sat down.Mom took a deep breath. “I went to the doctor today. Unfortunately, I have bad news,” she said softly.My heart pounded. “Why? What’s wrong?”“My heart,” Mom said quietly. “They gave me a year, at best.”The words hit me like a brick. “Isn’t there anything that can be done? I’ll pay whatever it takes, just tell me,” I said, my voice shaking.“A year is the most I’ll get with treatment. Without it, I might not even make it two months,” Mom said.
“No, no, this can’t be true,” I whispered. Tears filled my eyes.“But it’s true,” Mom said. “It looks like all the stress and overwork didn’t do me any good.”I couldn’t hold back, so I moved closer and hugged her. “We’ll get through this, Mom. I’ll be here with you.”“I know,” Mom said softly, stroking my hair like she used to when I was little. “Just don’t tell Samira anything for now.”“Why not? She’ll keep asking you for money when you need it for treatment,” I said.“She’s living off her new boyfriend right now, so we can be calm for a while,” Mom replied.I shook my head. “This is wrong.”“I’ll tell her myself when the time is right,” Mom said.
Mom told Samira everything a month after our conversation. Samira had come over to ask for money again after breaking up with her boyfriend.After talking to Mom, Samira came straight to me. She didn’t even knock. She walked in like she owned the place and sat on my couch.“I don’t want you visiting Mom,” Samira said.“Are you out of your mind? Mom is sick. I’ll visit her. Someone needs to help her,” I said. I couldn’t believe she was saying this.“I know why you’re so concerned about her — to get all her inheritance for yourself. But that won’t happen,” Samira said.“Are you serious? I don’t care about the money. I want to help Mom,” I said. “Or are you judging everyone by yourself?”
