When Mom fell ill, my sister suddenly became the perfect daughter. She moved in with Mom and kept me away, claiming she was taking care of everything. But I knew my sister too well.
Her motives were never pure. I couldn’t stop her, but everything changed when the doctor gave me Mom’s final note. I never understood how such different children could grow up in the same family.
Not until my sister and I became adults. Our mom raised us by herself, and the older I got, the more I realized how hard it was for her. I remember the tiny apartment we lived in when I was little.
It was always cold in the winter, and I could hear the wind whistling through the cracks in the windows. Mom worked two jobs just to keep a roof over our heads, but it was never enough. Sometimes, there wasn’t much food in the house.
I still remember the nights when our neighbor, Mrs. Jenkins, brought us dinner. She would kindly smile as she handed over a steaming pot of soup or a plate of pasta.
I didn’t understand back then how much it meant. I only knew that I wasn’t hungry anymore. But I noticed how Mom never ate with us.
She would sit quietly, pretending she wasn’t hungry, but I knew the truth. She gave everything she had to us. Over time, though, things got better.
Mom found a better job, and slowly, we climbed out of poverty. She saved enough to move us into a nicer house, and eventually, Samira and I went to college. But Samira didn’t remember those hard times the way I did.
She was too young to understand the struggles Mom faced. Maybe that’s why she turned out the way she did. How should I put it?
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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