I never understood how my sister Samira and I could be so different growing up in the same family. Our mom raised us on her own, and as I got older, I saw how hard it had been for her.
I remember our tiny apartment, the cold winters, and how Mom worked two jobs just to make ends meet. Some nights, there wasn’t enough food, but our neighbor Mrs. Jenkins would bring us dinner. I never realized the sacrifices Mom made until later. She always went without, so we wouldn’t have to.
As we grew up, things improved. Mom found a better job, and we moved into a nicer house. Samira, though, didn’t seem to remember the tough times as I did. She was more carefree, and as an adult, kept asking Mom for money without working for herself.
One day, Mom called me with bad news. After a doctor’s visit, she told me she had a year left to live—at best. I was devastated, and when I asked her why she didn’t tell Samira, she said it was because Samira was too busy with her new boyfriend.
Things escalated when Samira found out and confronted me, accusing me of trying to take all of Mom’s inheritance. I was stunned. Samira didn’t seem to care about Mom, only the money. She tried to keep me from seeing Mom, but I didn’t give up.
One day, when Samira wasn’t around, I visited Mom and helped with her groceries. Mom seemed more tired than usual but reassured me she was fine. However, when I asked about Samira, Mom said she was being helpful—cooking, cleaning, and keeping her company. I didn’t buy it.
Later, I discovered that Samira had been spending money recklessly, leaving Mom’s savings dangerously low. After Mom passed, Samira showed up with a lawyer, claiming everything since she had been the one taking care of Mom.
But when I spoke with Dr. Miller, I found out Mom had left everything to me in a more recent will. She had seen through Samira’s selfishness. Her note to me said, “I can see real care and distinguish it from selfish motives. That’s why I’m leaving everything to you, Nicole.”
I was overwhelmed with emotion. Even in her last days, Mom had protected me. I knew then that I would honor her memory, living with love, kindness, and strength, just as she had.
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