When Mom Got Sick, My Sister Transformed

When Mom got sick, my sister suddenly transformed into the image of a devoted daughter.
She moved in with her and pushed me away, insisting that she had everything under control. But I knew my sister — her intentions were never completely sincere. I couldn’t do much to stop her back then, but everything changed the day the doctor handed me Mom’s last letter.

I never understood how two children raised in the same house could become so different — at least until Samera and I became adults. Mom raised us alone, and as we grew older, I understood more and more how hard it had been for her. I still remember the tiny apartment we lived in when I was little. The winters were terribly cold, and the wind whistled through the cracks in the windows. Mom worked two jobs to keep us sheltered, but it was a constant struggle. Often, we didn’t have enough food.

I will never forget the evenings when our neighbor, Mrs. Jenkinson, would come over with food. She would offer us a warm smile as she handed us a steaming pot of soup or a plate of pasta. Back then, I didn’t fully understand how much that gesture mattered. I just knew I wouldn’t go to bed hungry. But I always noticed that Mom didn’t eat with us. She sat quietly, pretending she wasn’t hungry. But I knew that wasn’t true — she just wanted to make sure we had enough.

Mom gave us everything.

Eventually, things started to improve. She got a better job, and gradually, we climbed out of poverty. She even managed to save enough money for us to move into a better house. Over time, both Samera and I went to college.

But Samera didn’t remember the hard years the way I did — she was too young to understand what Mom went through. Maybe that’s why she became who she is: spoiled and indifferent. Even after graduating, she didn’t want to look for a job. She constantly asked Mom for money and spent it as if it would never run out.

Everything changed one day when Mom called me and said we needed to talk.
— “Yes, yes, I just want to talk a little,” Mom told me.

Her words echoed in my mind as I walked to her after work. Something was wrong — Mom never called me like that. When I arrived, the door was already open, so I walked in.
— “Mom?”
— “I’m in the kitchen, dear,” she replied.

I entered and saw her sitting at the table with a cup of tea. Her hands were resting on the table, but they looked tired. Her usually bright eyes seemed dim.
— “What happened? What do you want to talk about?” I asked as I sat down.

Mom sighed deeply.
— “I went to the doctor today. Unfortunately, I received bad news.”
— “What happened?”
— “It’s about my heart,” Mom said slowly. “They gave me another year, at best.”

The words hit me like a thunderbolt.
— “Is there nothing that can be done? I’ll pay anything, just tell me!”
— “A year is the maximum with treatment. Without it, I might not have two months,” she said.

— “No… It can’t be…” I whispered, tears in my eyes.
— “But it’s the truth,” Mom replied. “It seems all the stress and work have taken their toll.”

I hugged her tightly.
— “We’ll get through this together, Mom. I’ll be here.”
— “I know,” she said softly. “But for now, don’t tell Samera anything.”
— “Why? She’s going to ask you for money just when you need treatment,” I said.
— “Right now, she’s living off her new boyfriend’s money, so we’re safe for a while.”
— “That’s wrong.”
— “I’ll tell her when the time is right,” Mom said.

A month later, Mom told Samera too.

Samera came straight to my house, without knocking, and flopped down on the couch.
— “I don’t want you to visit Mom anymore,” she said.
— “Are you crazy? Mom is sick. Of course, I’m going to visit her. Someone has to help her.”
— “I know why you’re being so nice. To get all the inheritance. But that’s not going to happen.”

— “Seriously? I don’t care about money. I just want to help. Or do you think everyone is like you?”
Samera rolled her eyes.
— “Mom always loved me more. She gave me more money. So if you’re trying to get something after her death…”
— “That’s ridiculous. I’m going to keep visiting her.”
— “Don’t bother. I’m moving in with Mom and taking care of her myself.”
— “You? Since when did you suddenly become selfless? You’ve never taken care of anyone.”
— “That’s not true. I’ve always cared about Mom. Now she needs me. So don’t even try to get close. I won’t let you.”

She grabbed her bag and left without saying anything.

And that’s how it was. Samera always made excuses to keep me from seeing Mom. So I wrote to Mom and asked her to let me know when Samera left the house.

One day, Mom texted me that Samera was at the mall. I quickly went through the grocery store and headed to Mom’s.

She was on the couch, watching TV. She looked exhausted, but her eyes lit up when she saw me.
— “How are you feeling?”
— “We’re moving forward,” she said with a weak smile.
— “I brought you some groceries. Your favorite tea and fresh fruit.”
— “Thank you, dear.” Then her face darkened.
— “Why don’t you come to see me anymore?”
— “What do you mean?!”
— “Samera said you don’t want to, that I’m a burden.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I explained everything.
— “I understand,” Mom said. “Samera is still helping me. She cooks, cleans, brings me my medicine…”
— “Sure,” I mumbled.
— “Do you have enough money?”
— “For now, but Samera spends a lot. I’m afraid it won’t be enough for my medicine.”
— “Don’t worry. I’ll talk to the doctor.”

I stayed with her until she fell asleep. Then I went straight to the hospital.

I entered Dr. Miller’s office.
— “I’m Marta’s daughter…”
— “You must be Nicole. She talked a lot about you.”

I told him I wanted all the bills to be sent to me.
— “I thought Samera was paying…”
— “With Mom’s money. And she spends a lot. I don’t want Mom to worry.”

— “Okay. We’ll do that.”

When the bills started coming, I was shocked. They were huge. I couldn’t understand how Mom had been paying them until then, especially with Samera wasting money left and right.

Mom’s condition worsened. She was hospitalized. And there, finally, I could visit her without Samera getting in the way.

Night after night, I sat by her bed. I held her hand. I helped her fall asleep.

Samera watched me with irritation. She had practically moved into the hospital, trying to capture Mom’s attention.

One evening, she pulled me aside.
— “Mom is running out of money. I don’t know how much longer she’ll last.”
— “I’ll pay for everything. How can she be out of money?”
— “There are other expenses. And I have to live…”

— “That’s exactly the problem. You spend everything on yourself. I won’t support you.”

I left.

A few days later, the phone rang. Mom… was gone.

I rushed to the hospital with a broken heart. When I arrived, Samera and her lawyer were already there.
— “Because I took care of her, all the inheritance goes to me.”
The lawyer handed me a will.

— “She just died, and you’re talking about money?!” I shouted.

— “I don’t want conflicts later,” she said coldly.

I left immediately, straight to Dr. Miller.
— “I’m sorry. Your mother loved you more than anything.”
— “Thank you.”

— “She left something for you.”
He pulled out an envelope. On it was written, in Mom’s handwriting: “For my true daughter.”

I stepped outside and sat down on a chair. With trembling hands, I opened it.

It was another will. More recent than the one Samera showed. Legally valid. Mom had left everything to me. It even included a bank account I didn’t know about. The amount was huge.

Attached to the will was a note:
“I told you I understand everything. I see the difference between affection and interest. I leave everything to you, Nicole. I hope you keep kindness and humanity in your heart. I love you. Mom.”

I burst into tears.

Even after death, Mom protected me. She truly saw me.

I don’t know what the future holds for me, but I know I will honor her memory. I will live as she lived — with love, kindness, and strength.