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 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.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

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.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

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.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

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? A little selfish and carefree.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Even after she finished college, she didn’t want to work. She kept asking Mom for money and spent it like it would never run out.

But things took a turn for the worse. One day, Mom called me and asked me to come over.

“Is everything okay?” I asked.

“Yes, yes, I just need to talk to you,” Mom replied.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Her words echoed in my head as I drove to her house after work. I felt uneasy. Mom never called me like that. When I arrived, the front door was open, so I walked in.

“Mom?” I called out.

“I’m in the kitchen, honey,” she called back.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

I walked in and saw her sitting at the table with a cup of tea. Her hands rested on the table, but they looked tired. Her eyes, usually bright, seemed dull.

“What happened? What did you want to talk about?” I asked as I sat down.

Mom took a deep breath. “I went to the doctor today. Unfortunately, I have bad news,” she said softly.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

My heart pounded. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“My heart,” Mom said quietly. “They gave me a year, at best.”

The words hit me like a brick. “Isn’t there anything that can be done? I’ll pay whatever it takes, just tell me,” I said, my voice shaking.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“A year is the most I’ll get with treatment. Without it, I might not even make it two months,” Mom said.

“No, no, this can’t be true,” I whispered. Tears filled my eyes.

“But it’s true,” Mom said. “It looks like all the stress and overwork didn’t do me any good.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

I couldn’t hold back, so I moved closer and hugged her. “We’ll get through this, Mom. I’ll be here with you.”

“I know,” Mom said softly, stroking my hair like she used to when I was little. “Just don’t tell Samira anything for now.”

“Why not? She’ll keep asking you for money when you need it for treatment,” I said.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“She’s living off her new boyfriend right now, so we can be calm for a while,” Mom replied.

I shook my head. “This is wrong.”

“I’ll tell her myself when the time is right,” Mom said.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Mom told Samira everything a month after our conversation. Samira had come over to ask for money again after breaking up with her boyfriend.

After talking to Mom, Samira came straight to me. She didn’t even knock. She walked in like she owned the place and sat on my couch.

“I don’t want you visiting Mom,” Samira said.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“Are you out of your mind? Mom is sick. I’ll visit her. Someone needs to help her,” I said. I couldn’t believe she was saying this.

“I know why you’re so concerned about her — to get all her inheritance for yourself. But that won’t happen,” Samira said.

“Are you serious? I don’t care about the money. I want to help Mom,” I said. “Or are you judging everyone by yourself?”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Samira rolled her eyes. “I know that’s not true. Mom always loved me more because she gave me more money. So now, you want to get something after she’s gone,” she said.

“That’s so stupid if that’s really what you think. I’ll keep visiting Mom. Someone needs to help her,” I said firmly.

“Don’t worry about that. I’ve already planned everything. I’m moving in with Mom and taking care of her,” Samira said.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“You? Since when are you so caring? You’ve never cared about anyone but yourself,” I said.

“That’s not true. I’ve always cared about Mom, and now she needs me. So don’t even try coming over. I won’t let you in,” Samira said.

She stood up, grabbed her bag, and left without another word. I stared at the door after she was gone.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

I couldn’t believe how selfish Samira was. I knew she was doing it for herself. Only for herself.

But as it turned out, she wasn’t joking. Samira didn’t let me see Mom, always coming up with excuses like, “Mom is sleeping,” “Mom doesn’t feel well,” or “Mom went to the doctor.”

So, I texted Mom and asked her to let me know when Samira wouldn’t be home so I could visit.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

One afternoon, Mom texted that Samira had gone to the mall and I could come over. I stopped by the grocery store to get some supplies and headed straight to Mom’s.

When I arrived, Mom was lying on the couch, watching TV. She looked tired, but her eyes lit up when she saw me.

“How are you feeling?” I asked as I stepped closer.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“Not too bad. I’m managing,” Mom said with a weak smile.

“I brought you some groceries,” I said, placing the bag on the floor. “I got your favorite tea and some fresh fruit.”

“Thank you, honey,” Mom said, but her face grew serious. “Why haven’t you been visiting me? Samira said you didn’t want to because I’d become a burden.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

My heart stopped. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “She said what?!” I was outraged. “I didn’t come because Samira wouldn’t let me. She always had an excuse. As soon as I had the chance, I came,” I said.

“I see,” Mom replied.

“How is it with Samira? Does she help?” I asked.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“Yes, yes. She’s by my side almost all the time. She cooks, cleans, and brings me medicine,” Mom said. “I think my illness has changed her for the better,” she added.

“Yeah, right,” I muttered under my breath. “And do you have enough money?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

“For now, yes, although Samira spends a lot. I’m afraid we won’t have enough for the medicine soon,” Mom said, her voice filled with concern.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll talk to the doctor and take care of everything,” I said firmly.

“Alright, thank you,” Mom said with a tired smile.

I stayed with her for a while longer. We talked about small things. I didn’t want to leave, but Mom said she was tired and wanted to go to bed. I helped her to her room, guiding her gently.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“Nicole,” Mom softly said when she lay down. “I’ve lived a long life, and I understand everything.”

I just nodded. Her words didn’t make sense to me, but I thought she was just tired.

I put away the groceries and quietly left. But I didn’t go home. I couldn’t. I drove straight to the hospital.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

I knocked on Dr. Miller’s office door, and after hearing, “Come in!” I entered.

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

“Oh, you must be Nicole,” said Dr. Miller, not even letting me finish Mom’s full name. “Have a seat. Martha talked a lot about you.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

I sat down across from Dr. Miller. “I want to talk about Mom’s treatment. From now on, send all the bills to me, for anything,” I said.

“I thought Samira was paying for everything,” Dr. Miller said, his eyebrows raised.

“Yes, with Mom’s money, but she spends a lot too. I don’t want Mom worrying about finances,” I said.

“Alright, we can arrange that,” Dr. Miller said with a nod.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

I felt some relief knowing I could finally help Mom without interference. But I knew this was just the beginning.

When I started receiving the hospital bills, I was shocked by the amounts. Each bill was higher than I expected.

I couldn’t believe Mom had enough money for all of it, considering how much Samira was spending.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

I wondered where the money was coming from. I knew Mom’s savings were running low.

With each passing month, Mom’s condition worsened. Her strength faded, and she spent more time in bed.

She had to be hospitalized, and I was finally able to visit her whenever I wanted. Samira couldn’t stop me from going to the hospital.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

I spent every evening by Mom’s side. I read to her, held her hand, and made sure she was comfortable.

Samira watched me with resentment. Trying to win Mom’s attention, she practically moved into the hospital and never left her side. But I knew her reasons were not pure.

One evening, Samira came up to me while I was sitting with Mom. Her expression was serious.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“Can we talk?” she asked.

I followed her into the hallway. I crossed my arms and waited.

“Look, Mom’s money is running out. I don’t know how much longer it’ll last,” Samira said. She avoided my eyes.

“I’m paying all the medical bills. How can the money be gone?” I asked.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“Well, there are other expenses too. Groceries, utilities… I need money to live too,” Samira said. Her voice was softer now, almost like she was trying to make me feel guilty.

“That’s the problem,” I said firmly. “You spend it all on yourself. I’m not going to support you.” I turned and went back into Mom’s room.

A few days after that conversation, I got a call from the hospital. My heart sank as I answered. Mom was gone.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

I was devastated. I rushed to the hospital, my hands trembling. When I arrived, Samira and her lawyer were already there.

“Since I took care of Mom, all the inheritance goes to me,” Samira said instead of greeting me. Then, her lawyer handed me a will.

I shoved the will back into his hands. “Mom just died, and you’re thinking about money?!” I yelled at Samira.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“I don’t want any conflicts later,” she said, her tone flat.

“You’re unbelievable,” I said and walked away.

I went straight to Dr. Miller’s office. As soon as he saw me, his serious expression softened.

“I’m so sorry. Your mother loved you more than anyone,” he said gently.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“Thank you,” I replied, barely holding back tears.

“Before she passed, your mom gave me something to give you,” Dr. Miller said. He took an envelope out of his drawer and handed it to me. Mom’s handwriting on the envelope read: “For My True Daughter.”

“Do you mind if I step outside to read this?” I asked.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

I stepped out of his office and sat on one of the chairs in the hallway. My hands were shaking as I held the envelope.

I took a deep breath and opened it. Inside was a will. I read through it carefully, and my heart pounded.

It was more recent than the one Samira had, and it was valid. Mom had left everything to me.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

There was also an account I didn’t know about. The balance was more than I had ever imagined. She had thought of everything.

A small note was attached to the will. I recognized Mom’s handwriting instantly.

I told you I understand everything. I can see real care and distinguish it from selfish motives. That’s why I’m leaving everything to you, Nicole.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

I hope you keep that kindness and humanity in your heart. I love you, Mom.

Tears filled my eyes as I read her words. I covered my face and cried. Even after her death, Mom had protected me.

I felt a wave of gratitude. I didn’t know what lay ahead, but I was certain I would honor Mom’s memory. I would live how she had lived — with love, kindness, and strength.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

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Priest Conducting Funeral Service for Wealthy Woman Leaned over Her Coffin – He Was Stunned to the Core by What He Saw

When Father Michael is conducting a funeral service for a woman, he notices an oddly shaped birthmark on her neck, exactly like his own. What comes next is a journey of self-discovery through the grieving process. Will Father Michael get the answers he so desperately wants to find?

The cathedral was silent, veiled in the heavy air of loss. Shadows from towering candles flickered along the marble floor as mourners dressed in black filled the pews, their heads bowed in reverence.

A funeral in a cathedral | Source: Midjourney

A funeral in a cathedral | Source: Midjourney

Eleanor, known throughout the community as a generous but reserved woman, had left behind both a sizable fortune and an enduring mystery.

Father Michael took a deep breath, the weight of yet another funeral pressing on him as he approached her casket. He’d never met Eleanor in person, yet something about her presence had always seemed familiar, almost hauntingly so.

As he moved closer, a strange compulsion stopped him. It was something that he couldn’t explain.

A priest in a cathedral | Source: Midjourney

A priest in a cathedral | Source: Midjourney

He paused, then leaned in, bowing his head to begin the prayer. But as he did, his gaze drifted to her neck, and he froze.

Just behind her ear, a small, purplish birthmark stood out against her pale skin. It was almost shaped like a plum, the same shape and color as the one he had carried his whole life.

“How?” he muttered. “What does this mean?”

A woman in a casket | Source: Midjourney

A woman in a casket | Source: Midjourney

A chill shot through him, his hand reaching up to press against his neck. He was well aware that everyone was looking at him, but still, he couldn’t help himself.

This is impossible, he thought.

His heart hammered as memories flooded him, half-forgotten sounds and incidents from his years in the orphanage, from the searches for any record of his parents. The longing he’d held onto for so long stirred within him, demanding answers.

A little boy standing in a room | Source: Midjourney

A little boy standing in a room | Source: Midjourney

Is there a connection between Eleanor and me? he wondered.

After the service, as the organ played its final verse, the mourners began to disperse, and Father Michael approached Eleanor’s children. They were all clustered near the altar, as her daughters decided who was taking home the floral bouquets.

His request hung on his lips like a prayer he wasn’t sure he was ready to speak.

A close up of a priest | Source: Midjourney

A close up of a priest | Source: Midjourney

“I’m sorry for interrupting,” he said. “But I… I need to know something.”

“Of course, Father,” Jason, the youngest son, said. “Whatever you need.”

“I just wanted to know if there’s any chance that Eleanor… if she might have had a child. Another child, I mean. Years ago. Many years ago?”

Eleanor’s eldest son, Mark, frowned deeply, exchanging a wary glance with his siblings.

A frowning man | Source: Midjourney

A frowning man | Source: Midjourney

“I’m sorry, Father, but what are you saying?” he asked. “Do you know something we don’t?”

“Did our mother come to you in confidence? Was there a confessional?” one of the daughters asked.

Father Michael took a deep breath and swallowed his nerves.

A close up of a priest | Source: Midjourney

A close up of a priest | Source: Midjourney

“I don’t know,” he said, looking at Mark. “And no, your mother didn’t come to confessional. But I have reason to believe that it is true… If… if I could request a DNA test, just to put this to rest, I would be grateful.”

A wave of discomfort swept over the group, some of them shifting uncomfortably. Mark’s face hardened, skepticism clearly written all over.

“With all due respect, Father, this sounds preposterous. Trust me, our mother was an upstanding woman. She would have told us if something like this were true.”

A woman looking surprised | Source: Midjourney

A woman looking surprised | Source: Midjourney

Father Michael shifted on his feet.

“I understand that,” he said. “It’s just that Eleanor could have had her child very young, and while she wouldn’t have done anything wrong by allowing that child to be adopted, the child still exists.”

Father Michael knew he was speaking as a priest, but he couldn’t turn it off. He had been trained to speak softly and objectively. And even now, he didn’t know how to fight for this DNA test.

A priest looking uncertain | Source: Midjourney

A priest looking uncertain | Source: Midjourney

Instead, he nodded and began to back away before anything else happened.

“Wait,” Anna, Eleanor’s youngest daughter, said. She stepped forward, her gaze soft as she studied him.

“If you believe that it could be true, then I’ll do the test. I’d want answers, too. Are you the child?”

“I could be,” Father Michael said. “It’s that birthmark on her neck. I have it, too. And when I was at the orphanage, the old woman who was in charge of the kitchen said that all she could remember of my mother was the birthmark on her neck.”

A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney

A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney

A week crawled by, and each day, Father Michael found himself tossing in his bed as he imagined what it would mean if it were true. Then, one morning, an envelope arrived at the rectory. He tore it open, barely able to see through his shaking hands as he read the results.

It was a match.

Days later, Father Michael sat alone in the rectory. Since the results had come out, he had visited Eleanor’s family, hoping they would be willing to listen now the results were concrete information.

DNA testing | Source: Midjourney

DNA testing | Source: Midjourney

Eleanor’s daughters, his half-sisters, were ready to welcome him into the family, but the brothers didn’t want anything to do with him. It was as though having a new “big brother” was too threatening for them.

He didn’t know what else to do. He wasn’t going to fight for a way into their lives and their family. He wasn’t going to push himself in. But it did help that he knew where he belonged now.

Except… the one person with all the answers wasn’t around anymore.

A priest sitting in a cathedral | Source: Midjourney

A priest sitting in a cathedral | Source: Midjourney

“Father Michael?” an elderly woman’s soft voice brought him back to the present. “I’m Margaret, a friend of your mother. I was Eleanor’s best friend. Her daughter, Anna, told me everything when I went to have tea with them.”

“How can I help you?” he asked.

Her words struck him like a blow. Your mother. He motioned for her to come in, barely able to speak as they settled into chairs across from each other.

An elderly woman standing in a doorway | Source: Midjourney

An elderly woman standing in a doorway | Source: Midjourney

Margaret took a deep breath, her eyes misting over.

“Father,” she said. “Eleanor and I were close, closer than sisters, even. She told me things that no one else knew.”

He leaned forward, his heart pounding.

“Please, I need to know everything. I spent my entire life wondering where I came from.”

A priest sitting in an office | Source: Midjourney

A priest sitting in an office | Source: Midjourney

Margaret gave a sad smile.

“She was always so careful, our Eleanor. Always afraid of what people would think. But one summer, she met a man, a traveler, a free spirit. He was very different from who we were back then. And she said that he was like no one she’d ever met.”

Father Michael closed his eyes, imagining his mother as a young woman, full of life, swept away by the prospect of love. He didn’t speak; he was afraid that if he interrupted, the truth would slip through his fingers.

A smiling young couple | Source: Midjourney

A smiling young couple | Source: Midjourney

“She didn’t even tell me at first,” Margaret continued. “When she found out she was pregnant, she was terrified. Her family had expectations. A child born out of wedlock would have ruined her. So, she concocted this story, and she told everyone that she was leaving for the North Pole, studying penguins of all things.”

The old woman chuckled and sighed.

“I thought it was absurd, but she left. She had you in secret and arranged for you to be taken to the orphanage.”

A pregnant woman holding her belly | Source: Midjourney

A pregnant woman holding her belly | Source: Midjourney

Father Michael’s throat tightened, emotions too tangled up to unravel.

“She gave me away to protect her reputation?” he asked.

“Oh no, Father,” she said. “It wasn’t about reputation, it was about survival. Eleanor loved you. I knew that. She would check in at the orphanage from time to time.”

“She asked about me?” he asked.

The exterior of a building | Source: Midjourney

The exterior of a building | Source: Midjourney

“Oh, yes,” Margaret said, smiling. “She kept track, as best she could. She couldn’t be in your life, but she made sure you were safe.”

Father Michael’s heart ached.

“I spent my life thinking that she’d abandoned me. And all this time, she… she was watching from a distance?”

A smiling older woman | Source: Midjourney

A smiling older woman | Source: Midjourney

“She didn’t forget you. It broke her heart, Father. She loved you in her own, quiet way. She just had to do this because it was either this or… who knows what your grandfather would have done.”

She’d loved him, even if he’d never felt it, even if she’d never told him herself.

In the weeks that followed, Eleanor’s family decided to embrace Father Michael with cautious but open arms. Anna became a steady presence at the rectory, often stopping by with scones or muffins and ever-ready to fill him in on family stories, recounting memories of Eleanor.

A basket of muffins | Source: Midjourney

A basket of muffins | Source: Midjourney

One afternoon, as Father Michael sat in his office, Anna came by with a small, worn photo album.

“I thought you might want this,” she said, placing it in his hands. “It’s… all the photos we have of Mom. Maybe they’ll help you piece her together.”

An old album on a table | Source: Midjourney

An old album on a table | Source: Midjourney

The next day, Father Michael found himself at Eleanor’s grave.

“I forgive you,” he said. “And I thank you for watching over me.”

Flowers on a grave | Source: Midjourney

Flowers on a grave | Source: Midjourney

If you’ve enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you |

A Homeless Man Approached Me and Showed Me a Birthmark on His Neck Identical to Mine

I never imagined a quick lunch break would lead me to the man who might be my father — a homeless stranger with the same birthmark as mine. As we wait for the DNA test result that could change everything, I can’t shake the feeling that my life is about to take a turn I never saw coming.

I stepped out of the office, loosening my tie as I hit the street. The sun was glaring, and the city buzzed around me, but all I could think about was grabbing a quick bite before my afternoon meetings. Work was nonstop these days, but that’s what comes with the territory. I’ve worked too hard to get here to complain now.

Man walking in the city | Source: Pexels

Man walking in the city | Source: Pexels

Growing up in that old trailer with Mom, life wasn’t easy. We didn’t have much, but she made sure we had enough. Mom, Stacey, was a force of nature.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.

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