When Mother became sick, my sister transformed into the flawless child overnight. She relocated to Mother’s home and kept me at a distance, insisting she was handling everything. However, I recognized my sister’s character too well. Her intentions were never genuine. I couldn’t prevent her actions, but everything shifted when the physician delivered Mother’s last message to me.
I never comprehended how such contrasting siblings could be raised in an identical household. At least not until my sister and I reached maturity. Our mother single-handedly brought us up, and as I matured, I increasingly grasped the difficulty of her situation.
The small flat we occupied during my early years remains in my memory. Winter brought persistent cold, and I would hear the breeze sneaking through window gaps. Mother juggled two occupations simply to maintain our shelter, yet it was consistently insufficient.
Occasionally, our pantry was nearly empty. The evenings when our neighbor, Mrs. Jenkins, provided our dinner remain vivid in my recollections.
She would offer a warm smile while passing over a hot container of broth or a dish of noodles.
At that age, I failed to appreciate the significance. I merely felt relief from hunger.
Yet I observed how Mother abstained from joining our meals. She would sit silently, acting as if she lacked appetite, but I recognized the reality.
She sacrificed everything for us. Gradually, our circumstances improved. Mother secured a superior position, and incrementally, we escaped poverty.
She accumulated enough funds to relocate us to a better residence, and eventually, Samira and I attended university.
Samira, however, failed to recall those challenging periods as I did. She was too young to grasp Mother’s hardships.
Perhaps this explains her personality development. How can I describe it? Somewhat self-centered and unconcerned.
Even after completing university, she avoided employment. She continuously requested money from Mother and expended it carelessly.
The situation deteriorated unexpectedly. One afternoon, Mother phoned and requested my presence.
“Is all well?” I inquired.
“Yes, certainly, I simply need to discuss something,” Mother answered.
Her statement repeated in my thoughts as I drove to her residence after completing work. I sensed discomfort. Mother rarely contacted me in this manner. Upon arrival, I found the entrance unlocked, so I entered.
“Mother?” I called out.
“I’m preparing tea, darling,” she responded.
I discovered her seated at the kitchen table with tea. Her hands rested before her, appearing weary. Her typically vibrant eyes seemed lackluster.
“What occurred? What topic requires discussion?” I asked while taking a seat.
Mother inhaled deeply. “I visited the doctor today. Unfortunately, I received unfavorable news,” she stated gently.
My pulse accelerated. “Why? What’s the issue?”
“My cardiac condition,” Mother replied softly. “They estimated one year remaining, at maximum.”
The information struck me like a heavy blow. “Can anything be attempted? I’ll cover any cost, just inform me,” I stated, my voice trembling.
“With medical care, I’ll survive at most one year. Without intervention, I might only last eight weeks,” Mother explained.
“This can’t possibly be accurate,” I murmured. My eyes became watery.
“Yet it remains factual,” Mother responded. “It seems all the tension and excessive labor harmed my health.”
Unable to restrain myself, I shifted closer and embraced her. “We’ll manage this challenge together, Mother. I’ll remain by your side.”
“I understand,” Mother replied quietly, caressing my hair as she did in my childhood. “Please keep this from Samira temporarily.”
“For what reason? She’ll continue requesting financial assistance when you require funds for medical procedures,” I argued.
“She currently depends on her new partner financially, so we can expect peace momentarily,” Mother clarified.
I disagreed visibly. “This approach seems incorrect.”
“I’ll reveal everything personally when appropriate,” Mother assured.
Mother disclosed everything to Samira four weeks following our discussion. Samira had visited seeking money again after separating from her partner.
After conversing with Mother, Samira approached me directly. She entered without announcement, walked in presumptively, and seated herself on my sofa.
“I want you to avoid visiting Mother,” Samira declared.
“Have you lost rationality? Mother’s health is failing. I intend to visit her. She requires assistance,” I responded, astonished by her statement.
“I recognize your actual concern – securing her entire estate for yourself. That plan will fail,” Samira accused.
“Are you being earnest? I have no interest in financial gain. My aim is supporting Mother,” I countered. “Or perhaps you judge others by your own standards?”
Samira displayed contempt. “I know that’s false. Mother always favored me, evidenced by greater financial support. Now you seek compensation after her passing,” she claimed.
“Your perspective seems absurd if genuinely believed. I’ll maintain my visits to Mother. Someone must provide care,” I stated decisively.
“That concern is unnecessary. I’ve arranged everything. I’m relocating to Mother’s residence to provide care,” Samira announced.
