My Selfish Sister Stayed by Mom's Side When She Fell Ill, but Everything Changed after the Doctor Shared Mom's Last Words

When Mom fell ill, my sister suddenly transformed into the picture of a perfect daughter. She moved in with Mom and deliberately kept me away, constantly asserting that she was taking care of absolutely everything. But I knew my sister, Samantha, far too well; her motivations were rarely, if ever, selfless. While I felt powerless to intervene directly, everything shifted dramatically when the doctor entrusted me with Mom’s final, deeply revealing note. I had always sensed a profound difference between my sister and me, a chasm that even the passage of time seemed unable to bridge.

I never truly understood how such fundamentally different children could have grown up in the same family, sharing the same upbringing and values, until Samantha and I reached adulthood. Our mom, Martha, raised us single-handedly, and the older I became, the more acutely I recognized the immense hardships she had endured for us. Her quiet sacrifices were a constant source of admiration for me.

I vividly remember the tiny, cramped apartment we lived in when I was little. It was perpetually cold in the winter months, and I could clearly hear the wind whistling ominously through the cracks in the aging windows. Mom relentlessly worked two demanding jobs just to ensure we had a roof over our heads, but it often felt like it was never quite enough. The meager meals and the constant worry etched themselves into my childhood memories.

Sometimes, there wasn’t much food in the house at all. I still vividly recall the nights when our kind neighbor, Mrs. Jenkins, a woman with a warm smile and an even warmer heart, would thoughtfully bring us dinner. She would kindly smile, her eyes filled with genuine compassion, as she handed over a steaming pot of homemade soup or a comforting plate of pasta. Her small acts of kindness were a lifeline during those lean times.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney I didn’t fully grasp back then the true extent of her generosity and how much those simple meals meant to us. I only knew the immediate relief of not feeling the gnawing pangs of hunger anymore, a sensation that had become all too familiar.

But I distinctly noticed how Mom never actually ate with us during those difficult times. She would sit quietly at the table, feigning a lack of appetite, pretending she wasn’t hungry herself, but even my young eyes could discern the truth in her forced smile. She selflessly gave everything she had, often going without herself, to ensure our needs were met. Over time, though, things gradually improved. Mom finally found a better-paying job, and slowly but surely, we began to climb our way out of the grip of poverty, a testament to her unwavering determination.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney She diligently saved enough money to move us into a slightly nicer, more comfortable house, and eventually, both Samantha and I had the opportunity to attend college, a dream Mom had always held for us. This was the tangible result of her years of tireless effort and sacrifice.

But Samantha didn’t seem to remember those lean and challenging times the way I did. She was significantly younger than me and perhaps too young to truly understand the immense struggles Mom had faced in raising us alone. This difference in perspective, I believe, profoundly shaped our adult lives.

Maybe that’s why she turned out the way she did. How should I put it delicately? A little… selfish and remarkably carefree, seemingly unburdened by the weight of responsibility that Mom had carried for so long. Her focus always seemed to be on immediate gratification.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney Even after she finished college, she showed no real inclination to find stable employment. She consistently asked Mom for money and carelessly spent it as if the well would never run dry. Her dependence on Mom’s generosity continued well into her adult years.

But things took a sharp and worrying turn for the worse. One particularly somber day, Mom called me, her voice heavy with an uncharacteristic sadness, and asked me to come over to her house as soon as I could.

“Is everything alright, Mom?” I asked, my heart immediately clenching with a sense of foreboding.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney “Yes, yes, dear. I just… I really need to talk to you about something important,” Mom replied, her voice trembling slightly, a stark contrast to her usual cheerful tone.

Her words echoed ominously in my head as I drove to her house after work, the unease growing with every mile. Mom never called me with such a serious and urgent tone. When I finally arrived, the front door was slightly ajar, an unusual sight, so I cautiously walked in.

“Mom?” I called out, my voice filled with concern.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney “I’m in the kitchen, honey,” she called back, her voice sounding weak and tired.

I walked into the familiar kitchen and saw her sitting at the small wooden table with a half-empty cup of tea in front of her. Her usually vibrant hands rested limply on the tabletop, and they looked incredibly weary. Her eyes, normally bright and full of life, seemed dull and clouded with a deep sadness. The change in her appearance was stark and deeply unsettling.

“What happened, Mom? What did you want to talk about that couldn’t wait?” I asked as I pulled up a chair and sat down across from her, my anxiety mounting.

Mom took a deep, shaky breath, as if gathering her strength for what she was about to say. “I went to the doctor today, dear. Unfortunately… I have some very bad news,” she said softly, her gaze meeting mine with a heartbreaking vulnerability.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney My heart pounded in my chest, a heavy, sickening thud. “Why? What’s wrong, Mom?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper, fearing the answer.

“My heart, sweetheart,” Mom said quietly, her voice barely audible. “They… they gave me about a year, at best.” The weight of her words hung heavy in the air.

The words hit me with the force of a physical blow, stealing my breath. “Isn’t there anything that can be done? Any treatment? I’ll pay whatever it takes, Mom, just tell me,” I pleaded, my voice shaking uncontrollably, tears welling in my eyes.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney “A year is the absolute most I’ll get with aggressive treatment, my love. Without it… I might not even make it two months,” Mom said, her voice filled with a quiet resignation.

“No, no, this can’t be true,” I whispered in disbelief, the reality of her words refusing to fully sink in. Hot tears streamed down my face.

“But it is true, my dear,” Mom said, her gaze gentle but firm. “It looks like all the years of stress and relentless overwork finally took their toll on me.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney I couldn’t hold back my emotions any longer. I moved closer to her and wrapped my arms tightly around her frail frame, burying my face in her shoulder. “We’ll get through this, Mom. I’ll be right here with you, every step of the way.”

“I know you will, sweetheart,” Mom said softly, her hand gently stroking my hair, a familiar gesture from my childhood that brought a small measure of comfort amidst the overwhelming grief. “Just… please don’t tell Samantha anything about this for now.”

“Why not, Mom? She’ll just keep asking you for money when you need it for your treatment and care,” I said, my concern for Mom’s financial well-being overriding my desire to respect her wishes.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney “She’s… she’s currently living off her new boyfriend, so hopefully, we can have a little peace and quiet for a while,” Mom replied, a hint of weariness in her voice.

I shook my head, feeling a deep sense of unease. “This just feels wrong, Mom.”

“I’ll tell her myself, in my own time, when the moment feels right,” Mom said, offering a weak but reassuring smile.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney About a month after our difficult conversation, Mom finally told Samantha everything. Samantha had come over to Mom’s house yet again, her hand outstretched for money after, predictably, breaking up with her latest boyfriend. Her financial instability was a constant source of stress for Mom.

After her conversation with Mom, Samantha marched straight to my house, her face a mask of barely concealed anger. She didn’t even bother to knock. She simply barged in as if she owned the place and plopped down uninvited onto my couch, her presence radiating entitlement.

“I don’t want you visiting Mom anymore,” Samantha stated flatly, her tone leaving no room for discussion.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney “Are you completely out of your mind, Samantha? Mom is seriously ill! Of course, I’m going to visit her. Someone needs to be there to help her,” I retorted, my voice rising in disbelief at her audacity.

“Oh, I know exactly why you’re suddenly so concerned about her well-being – you just want to manipulate her and get all of her inheritance for yourself. But that’s not going to happen, Nicole,” Samantha sneered, her eyes filled with suspicion and jealousy.

“Are you actually serious right now, Samantha? I don’t care about the money! I want to be there for Mom and help her through this incredibly difficult time,” I said, my voice trembling with a mixture of anger and hurt. “Or are you simply judging everyone else by your own selfish motivations?”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney Samantha dramatically rolled her eyes, a gesture she often used to dismiss my concerns. “Oh, please. I know that’s not true. Mom always secretly loved me more because she always gave me more money. So now, you’re just trying to swoop in and get something after she’s gone. It’s so transparent.”

“That’s incredibly stupid and hurtful if that’s truly what you think, Samantha. I will continue to visit Mom, regardless of your ridiculous accusations. Someone needs to be there to offer her genuine support and care,” I said firmly, refusing to be intimidated by her selfishness.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that, Nicole. I’ve already planned everything out perfectly. I’m moving in with Mom permanently and taking complete care of her,” Samantha announced with a smug air of self-importance.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney “You? Since when have you ever been so incredibly caring, Samantha? You’ve never genuinely cared about anyone in your entire life except for yourself and your own immediate needs,” I countered, my voice dripping with disbelief and sarcasm.

“That’s simply not true, Nicole. I have always deeply cared about Mom, and right now, she needs me more than ever. So, don’t even try coming over to her house. I won’t let you in, and I’ll make sure she doesn’t want to see you either,” Samantha declared, her tone cold and resolute.

She abruptly stood up, grabbed her designer handbag, and flounced out of my house without uttering another word, leaving me staring at the closed door in stunned disbelief at her utter selfishness and possessiveness.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels I couldn’t fathom the depths of Samantha’s selfishness. I knew, with a chilling certainty, that her sudden devotion to Mom was entirely self-serving, motivated by the potential inheritance rather than genuine filial love.

And as it chillingly turned out, she wasn’t making an idle threat. Samantha effectively blocked me from seeing Mom, consistently fabricating excuses such as, “Mom is sleeping,” “Mom isn’t feeling well enough for visitors today,” or “Mom had a doctor’s appointment and is resting.” Her control over who could see Mom was absolute.

Growing increasingly concerned and deeply suspicious of Samantha’s true motives, I secretly texted Mom, carefully explaining the situation and asking her to discreetly let me know if there was ever a time when Samantha wouldn’t be home so that I could visit her without causing conflict. I knew Mom was tech-savvy enough to manage this discreet communication.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney One quiet afternoon, my phone buzzed with a text message from Mom. It simply read: “Samantha at the mall. Come over now if you can.” Relief washed over me. I quickly stopped by the grocery store to pick up some of Mom’s favorite treats and essential supplies and headed straight to her house, my heart filled with a mixture of anticipation and worry.

When I arrived, Mom was lying on the living room couch, her eyes tired but a faint smile gracing her lips as she weakly watched television. Her face, though pale, lit up visibly when she saw me standing in the doorway.

“How are you feeling today, Mom?” I asked softly as I stepped closer to her, my voice filled with genuine concern.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney “Not too bad, sweetheart. I’m managing, taking things one day at a time,” Mom said with a weak but reassuring smile.

“I brought you some groceries and a few of your favorite things,” I said, gently placing the bag on the floor beside the couch. “I got your special Earl Grey tea and some fresh strawberries and blueberries.”

“Thank you so much, honey,” Mom said, her voice filled with gratitude. But then, her expression grew serious, a shadow of worry crossing her face. “Nicole, why haven’t you been visiting me more often? Samantha told me that you didn’t want to come because I had become too much of a burden for you.” Her words struck me like a physical blow.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney My heart stopped for a terrifying moment. I couldn’t believe the sheer audacity of Samantha’s lies. “She said what?!” I exclaimed, my voice filled with outrage and disbelief. “I haven’t been here because Samantha wouldn’t let me! She always had some ridiculous excuse. As soon as I had the opportunity and knew she wouldn’t be here, I came straight over,” I explained, my voice trembling with anger.

“I see,” Mom replied slowly, her eyes filled with a dawning understanding and a hint of sadness.

“How is it with Samantha, Mom? Is she actually helping you and taking care of things?” I asked, my skepticism about Samantha’s sudden caregiving still strong.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney “Yes, yes, dear. She’s been by my side almost constantly. She cooks some meals, attempts to clean up a bit, and diligently brings me my medicine,” Mom said, a hopeful tone creeping into her voice. “I truly think my illness has changed her for the better, Nicole.”

“Yeah, right,” I muttered under my breath, my skepticism unwavering. “And… do you have enough money for everything, Mom? For your medication and any other needs?” I asked, trying to steer the conversation towards a more practical concern.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney “For now, yes, I suppose so, although Samantha does seem to spend quite a lot. I’m starting to become a little afraid that we won’t have enough for my expensive medications soon,” Mom confided, her voice filled with a palpable concern.

“Please don’t worry about that for even a single second, Mom. I will personally talk to Dr. Miller and take complete care of all your medical expenses, no matter what,” I said firmly, wanting to alleviate her financial anxieties.

“Alright, my sweet girl. Thank you so much, Nicole,” Mom said with a tired but grateful smile.

I stayed with her for a while longer that afternoon. We talked about small, comforting things, reminiscing about happier times. I didn’t want to leave her side, but Mom eventually said she was feeling tired and wanted to try to get some rest. I gently helped her to her bedroom, supporting her frail body.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney “Nicole,” Mom softly said when she was finally lying down in bed, her voice barely a whisper. “I’ve lived a long life, and I want you to know… I understand everything.”

I simply nodded, unsure of the full meaning behind her cryptic words but assuming she was just tired and perhaps a little confused. I didn’t want to press her.

I quietly put away the groceries and reluctantly left her house, a knot of unease tightening in my stomach. But instead of driving straight home, I found myself unable to. I drove directly to the hospital, my mind racing with unanswered questions and a growing sense of urgency.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney I knocked gently on Dr. Miller’s office door, and after hearing a warm, “Come in!” I entered his dimly lit office.

“Hello, Dr. Miller. I’m Nicole, the daughter of one of your patients, Martha…”

“Oh, yes, Nicole. I recognize you immediately,” said Dr. Miller, not even allowing me to finish Mom’s full name. His expression was kind and understanding. “Please, have a seat. Martha has talked about you quite a lot.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney I sat down in the chair across from Dr. Miller’s large wooden desk. “I wanted to discuss Mom’s ongoing treatment. From this point forward, please send all the medical bills directly to me, for absolutely anything she needs,” I stated firmly.

“I was under the impression that Samantha was currently handling all of Martha’s financial affairs,” Dr. Miller said, his eyebrows raised slightly in surprise.

“Yes, she is… using Mom’s money. But I’ve become aware that she also spends a significant amount herself. I don’t want Mom to have any additional worries about finances during this difficult time,” I explained, my concern for Mom’s peace of mind paramount.

“Alright, Nicole. We can certainly arrange that without any problem,” Dr. Miller said with a reassuring nod.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney I felt a small measure of relief wash over me, knowing that I could finally directly help Mom without Samantha’s potentially self-serving interference. But deep down, I knew that this