When our mother was diagnosed with a serious illness, my sister Samira quickly stepped in, moving into Mom’s home and insisting she would handle everything. She told me I wasn’t needed, which left me hurt and confused. Although I wanted to believe she had changed, her sudden devotion seemed less about caring for Mom and more about taking control of the situation.
I often thought back to our childhood, remembering how hard Mom worked to raise us. She endured long shifts, cold winters, and many sacrifices just to keep us afloat. While I carried those memories with deep respect, Samira was too young at the time to understand the struggles. Over the years, she became someone who leaned heavily on others, and when Mom grew ill, she used the circumstances to push me aside.
Even so, I continued to support Mom quietly from a distance. I covered hospital bills and ensured she received the best care possible, even if I wasn’t always physically by her side. After her passing, Samira presented a will, claiming she deserved everything because of her so-called sacrifices. At that moment, while I was grieving, I felt a mix of sadness and disbelief at her attitude.
Then Dr. Miller handed me an envelope in Mom’s handwriting. Inside was a heartfelt letter and an updated will. Mom explained that she had always recognized the difference between genuine love and selfish motives. She entrusted everything to me—not as a reward, but as a sign of faith that I would carry on her memory with compassion and respect. It was her final gift, affirming the bond we had always shared.