My Selfish Sister Stayed by Mom’s Side When She Fell Ill, but Everything Changed after the Doctor Shared Mom’s Last Words – Story of the Day

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.

“You? Since when did you become nurturing? You’ve consistently prioritized only yourself,” I challenged.

“That statement is false. I’ve consistently valued Mother, and currently she requires me. Don’t attempt visitation – I’ll deny entry,” Samira warned.

She rose, collected her belongings, and departed without additional comments. I gazed at the exit after her departure.

I found Samira’s selfishness incredible. I recognized her actions served only her interests. Exclusively her interests.

However, she proved serious. Samira prevented my maternal visits, consistently presenting excuses like, “Mother is resting,” “Mother feels unwell,” or “Mother attended a medical appointment.”

I sent a message to Mother requesting notification when Samira would be absent so I could arrange a visit.

One day, Mother messaged that Samira had gone shopping at the mall, allowing me an opportunity to stop by. I paused at a supermarket to purchase necessities before heading directly to Mother’s home.

Upon arrival, I found Mother reclined on the sofa, viewing television. She appeared exhausted, but her gaze brightened upon seeing me.

“How do you feel today?” I inquired as I moved nearer.

“Not particularly bad. I’m coping,” Mother replied with a faint smile.

“I’ve brought some food items,” I mentioned, setting the package on the ground. “I selected your preferred tea and some seasonal fruits.”

“I appreciate that, darling,” Mother said, though her expression turned grave. “Why have you avoided visiting? Samira informed me you resisted coming because I had become troublesome.”

My pulse halted. I was shocked by this information. “She claimed what?!” I felt furious. “I stayed away because Samira prevented my visits. She consistently provided reasons. I came immediately when possible,” I explained.

“I understand now,” Mother acknowledged.

“How are things with Samira? Does she provide assistance?” I questioned.

“Indeed, she remains near me constantly. She prepares food, maintains cleanliness, and delivers my medication,” Mother confirmed. “I believe my condition has positively transformed her character,” she added.

“Sure, of course,” I whispered inaudibly. “Do you have sufficient funds?” I asked, attempting to redirect our conversation.

“Currently yes, although Samira uses considerable amounts. I worry we might lack money for medications soon,” Mother expressed with evident anxiety.

“Don’t concern yourself with that issue. I’ll communicate with your physician and handle all expenses,” I stated determinedly.

“Very well, thank you,” Mother responded with a weary smile.

I remained with her for additional time. We discussed trivial matters. I wished to stay longer, but Mother mentioned fatigue and a desire to rest. I supported her to her bedroom, guiding her carefully.

“Nicole,” Mother said softly after lying down. “I’ve experienced many years, and I comprehend everything.”

I merely nodded. Her statement confused me, but I attributed it to her tiredness.

I organized the groceries and departed silently. However, I didn’t return home. I couldn’t. I drove immediately to the medical facility.

I knocked on Doctor Miller’s office entrance, and after hearing, “Enter!” I went inside.

“Hello, I’m the daughter of one of your patients, Martha…”

“Oh, you must be Nicole,” Doctor Miller interrupted before I could complete Mother’s name. “Please sit down. Martha mentioned you frequently.”

I positioned myself opposite Doctor Miller. “I wish to discuss Mother’s medical care. From this point forward, send all financial statements to me, for every expense,” I stated.

“I believed Samira was covering all costs,” Doctor Miller remarked, raising his eyebrows.

“Indeed, using Mother’s finances, but she also expends substantial amounts. I prefer Mother not to worry about monetary issues,” I explained.

“Fine, we can set up that arrangement,” Doctor Miller consented with a head movement.

I experienced partial comfort knowing I could now aid Mother without obstruction. However, I recognized this represented just the start.

When the medical invoices began arriving, I was astounded by the financial figures. Each statement exceeded my anticipations.

I struggled to believe Mother possessed adequate funds for these expenses, considering Samira’s lavish spending habits.

I pondered the source of these finances. I was aware Mother’s reserves were diminishing rapidly.

As weeks progressed, Mother’s health deteriorated. Her vitality diminished, and she increasingly remained in bed.

She required admission to the medical center, which finally enabled me to see her whenever I desired. Samira could no longer prevent my hospital access.

I dedicated every night to Mother’s bedside. I provided readings, held her hands, and ensured her comfort.

Samira observed me with obvious dislike. Attempting to gain Mother’s focus, she essentially relocated to the hospital and maintained constant presence. However, I recognized her motivations lacked sincerity.

During one evening, Samira approached while I sat with Mother. Her countenance showed seriousness.

“May we discuss something?” she requested.

I followed her into the corridor. I folded my arms and waited expectantly.

“Listen, Mother’s finances are depleting. I’m uncertain how long they will last,” Samira stated. She averted her gaze from mine.

“I fund all the health care costs. How can the money be exhausted?” I questioned.

“Well, other costs exist too. Food, bills… I also require money for living,” Samira explained. Her tone became gentler now, seemingly attempting to induce guilt.

“That represents the issue,” I stated firmly. “You spend everything on yourself. I refuse to financially support you.” I turned and reentered Mother’s room.

Several days following that exchange, the hospital telephoned me. My spirit sank as I responded. Mother had passed away.

I felt devastated. I hurried to the hospital with shaking hands. Upon arrival, Samira and her attorney were already present.

“Since I provided Mother’s care, all inherited assets belong to me,” Samira declared instead of offering condolences. Then, her legal representative handed me a testament.

I pushed the document back toward him. “Mother just died, and your concern is money?!” I shouted at Samira.

“I want to avoid future disputes,” she replied with an emotionless tone.

“You’re incredible,” I stated before walking away.

I proceeded directly to Doctor Miller’s office. Seeing my entrance, his stern expression softened immediately.

“Please accept my condolences. Your mother cherished you above all others,” he said compassionately.

“I appreciate that,” I responded, barely containing my emotions.

“Prior to her passing, your mother entrusted me with something to deliver to you,” Doctor Miller mentioned. He retrieved an envelope from his desk drawer and presented it to me. Mother’s handwritten message on the envelope stated: “For My Genuine Daughter.”

“Would you mind if I read this elsewhere?” I inquired.

I exited his office and positioned myself on a hallway chair. My fingers trembled while holding the envelope.

I inhaled deeply before opening it. Inside, I discovered a testament. I examined it thoroughly, and my heart accelerated.

This document was newer than Samira’s version, and it maintained legal validity. Mother had bequeathed all possessions to me.

There also existed an unknown financial account. The sum exceeded anything I could have anticipated. She had considered all contingencies.

A brief message accompanied the testament. I instantly identified Mother’s penmanship.

I mentioned understanding everything. I recognize genuine care versus self-serving intentions. This explains why everything transfers to you, Nicole.

I trust you’ll maintain that compassion and decency within your spirit. With love, Mother.

My eyes moistened as I perused her message. I shielded my face and wept. Even beyond life, Mother had safeguarded me.

A sensation of appreciation washed over me. Despite uncertainty about the future, I felt determined to respect Mother’s remembrance. I would conduct my life as she had—with affection, benevolence, and resilience.