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
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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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
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
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
“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
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
“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.
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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
“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
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
“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
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
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
“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
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.
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“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
“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.
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“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.
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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.”
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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“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.
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“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.
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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.
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“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.
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“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.
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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.
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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.
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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
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My Father Bragged about Expensive Gifts He ‘Bought for Me’ but Doesn’t Even Pay Child Support – He Learned a Harsh Lesson
When Lexie’s mom surprises her with an expensive and meaningful graduation present, she is truly over the moon. Like any teenager, she takes to social media to talk about her gift and how grateful she is. But soon, Lexie’s absent father tries to claim that he bought her the elaborate gift. Soon, his lie begins to unravel punlicly…
My father was a ghost long before I even understood what it meant. He walked out on us when I was five, and I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve heard from him since. No birthdays, no calls, and not a dime of child support.
Nice, right?
A smiling little girl | Source: Midjourney
But my mom? She’s been my everything. And it’s been the two of us against the world, and somehow, she has always made it work. And honestly, this woman has sacrificed so much to give me a shot at everything I’ve ever wanted to pursue. Out of all the things that I’ve wanted to try my hand at, music was my absolute love.
Music had always been my escape. Especially the piano. My mom had enrolled me in lessons when I was little, and from then on, I was just hooked. My dream was to compose my own music, but for me to do that I needed a professional-grade digital piano.
A little girl playing the piano | Source: Midjourney
The problem?
Those things are expensive. Like proper, expensive.
And while mom and I weren’t living in poverty, we weren’t exactly rolling in cash, either. Being a single mom and a nurse, my mother went out of her way to ensure that I could keep playing. Recently she had started working extra shifts wherever possible, cutting corners where she could, just so that I could keep playing.
More than that, even though she came home exhausted, she never complained about the long hours or the money. My mom simply believed in me.
A smiling nurse | Source: Midjourney
“Lexie,” she would say. “You’re just seventeen. And to have found something that you’re so passionate about at your age is amazing. Not to mention that you have real talent here, it’s not just a whim. You have a dream and you can get to it. I’ll do everything I can to help you achieve it.”
Fast forward to graduation.
A smiling teenage girl | Source: Midjourney
I wasn’t expecting anything other than a cake, which was our tradition at the end of every school year. I knew how hard my mom worked just to keep everything going, and there was no way I’d want anything else from her.
“I’m serious, Mom,” I said one night over dinner. “I don’t want anything for graduation. I promise you, I understand the situation and I’m more than grateful for your support.”
“Oh, darling,” she said, giving me a spoonful of mashed potatoes. “I’m your mother, it’s my job.”
A bowl of mashed potatoes | Source: Midjourney
“I know, but I want you to know that I don’t expect anything,” I said.
We went to my graduation ceremony, and my mother bawled her eyes out when it was my turn to walk the stage.
“My darling girl,” my mother said after the ceremony as she enveloped me in a tight hug. “I am so proud of you!”
A teenager in her graduation gown and flowers | Source: Midjourney
The real surprise came when I walked into our home that afternoon. There it was, my dream piano.
A high-end digital piano, complete with every feature that I needed to start composing. I couldn’t believe it. I actually cried.
It wasn’t about the piano itself, it was about how much my mother sacrificed for my dreams.
Naturally, I posted about it on social media because I was over the moon. I tagged my mom because she was the one who dreamed and inspired me. I wrote a long heartfelt caption about how she was truly the best mom in the world.
A keyboard with a pink bow | Source: Midjourney
My post got tons of likes and comments, and honestly, I was just happy to share this moment with my mother. She deserved all the credit.
“Mom, I don’t know what to say,” I told her that evening as we sat outside on the porch together.
“Baby girl, I told you. I’m your mother, this is my job,” she said.
A mother and daughter duo sitting on a porch | Source: Midjourney
Then, a few days later, something weird happened.
I got a text from one of my dad’s old friends. He was someone I hadn’t heard from in years. He congratulated me on graduating and then casually mentioned how generous my dad was for buying me such an amazing gift.
My stomach dropped immediately.
“What?” I muttered.
A teenager holding her phone | Source: Midjourney
At first, I thought that he must have been confused. But then I saw the post that made it all make sense.
My dad, the same man who hadn’t shown up for my graduation or acknowledged my existence in years, had re-posted my story on socials.
Onto his own page!
And of course, he captioned it like it was his moment. Like he had bought me the piano and had been the supportive dad all along.
A phone opened to social media | Source: Midjourney
So proud of little girl! I’ve always believed in your dreams. This is just the beginning!
I was shocked. The actual nerve of this man was insane.
I just stared at the screen in shock. This was a guy who hadn’t paid a cent in child support, who hadn’t called to check in. Even when I was twelve and I fell off a tree and had broken my arm? My mother had told him, but he didn’t bother to see me at the hospital or after.
“I just want him to sign my cast,” I remember telling my mother.
“I know, Lex,” my mother said, rubbing my arm. “But he doesn’t seem to care.”
A little girl with her arm in a cast | Source: Midjourney
So this? This was absurd.
“This man needs to pay child support,” I muttered.
But I didn’t know how to go about it. I didn’t want to embarrass him on socials because I couldn’t risk rocking the boat before those payments were settled.
Still, I was fuming inside, waiting for the day his lies would catch up to him.
A shocked girl | Source: Midjourney
Turns out, karma was already in motion.
About two weeks later, my mom and I went to a community event. It was one of those things where everyone in town shows up because it was a charity event to raise funds for the community theater.
At one point, we were chatting with a group of people, when a random guy came forward to talk to us. He started talking to my mom like they were old friends, and then he turned to me.
A crowd of people | Source: Midjourney
“Lexie!” he said excitedly. “I’m Ralph, I work with your dad! That’s how I recognized you, he’s been posting photos of you recently. He’s very proud. And that piano he got you for graduation? Wow! That was a real show of support, huh? You’re a lucky young lady.”
I felt my mom tense next to me. She didn’t even blink.
“Oh, you must be terribly mistaken, Ralph. My ex-husband hasn’t paid child support in years. He had nothing to do with the piano or any part of his daughter’s life, really.”
A smiling man | Source: Midjourney
“Yeah, we’re looking at outstanding child support for about what, Mom? Thirteen years now?” I said.
The man’s face went from smug to confused.
“I’m sorry… what?” he said.
My mom didn’t let up though.
“The piano was a gift from me. I’ve been working extra hours to make sure that my daughter has everything she needs for her music career. Her father didn’t contribute at all.”
A frowning woman | Source: Midjourney
Poor Ralph just stood there, speechless.
It turns out that this man wasn’t just my dad’s coworker. He was my dad’s boss.
My dad had been spinning this tale for months, talking about how he was this amazing, supportive father who did everything for his daughter.
Well, not anymore.
A smiling man sitting in his office | Source: Midjourney
The look on Ralph’s face told me everything that I needed to know: my father was done for. His lies had caught up with him.
Not long after, he was let go because Ralph said that he couldn’t trust him at all. He was also hit with years’ worth of payments he’d been dodging, and there was no escaping it.
The courts were involved now, and he had no choice but to pay up.
A close up of an angry man | Source: Midjourney
As for me?
I’ve been spending every spare minute on that piano, composing music that I know will make my mom proud. After all, she’s the one who’s always been there, the one who truly believed in me from day one. And soon, I’ll be going off to college to study music, too.
And my dad?
Well, he learned that pretending to be a parent is a lot harder than actually being one.
A teenager playing on a keyboard | Source: Midjourney
What would you have done?
If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you |
My Father Skipped My Graduation to Take His Stepson to the Zoo – I Taught Him a Good Lesson
When Michael’s father misses his graduation to take his stepson, Tommy, to the zoo, Michael wants to teach him a lesson. After years of being sidelined, Michael finally retaliates. He plans a graduation dinner with the intention to expose his father, but then, things take a turn…
As I watched my classmates hug their families on graduation day, the absence of my father, Henry, cast a long shadow on what should have been one of the happiest days of my life.
A graduation cap and degree | Source: Pexels
Ever since my parents’ divorce when I was ten, Dad had built a new life with Sandra and her young son, Tommy.
It was good—I wanted my father to be happy. He deserved it. Because as much as he and Mom tried, they just weren’t compatible anymore. I needed them to be apart so that they could co-exist for me.
A divorce agreement | Source: Pexels
But then, when Dad and Sandra got together, he entered a new chapter—one that seemed to include everyone but me.
Initially, things weren’t so bad, but as my father grew closer to Tommy, he began to play a bigger role in his life. He consistently missed the milestones that marked my childhood journey—my science fair victories, my soccer finals, even several birthdays.
A father carrying his son | Source: Pexels
Each absence was attributed to something involving Tommy—a school play, a baseball game, or just a day out—leaving me to celebrate or commiserate without him.
I met with my father a week before the graduation—we were having lunch at a diner, something that he still tried to keep going, even when his life got busy.
A tray of burger and fries | Source: Pexels
“I’ll be at your graduation, Michael,” my father said. “I’ll wear a suit and tie and be there, in the front row with your mom. This is a big moment in your life and I love you. Of course, I’ll be there.”
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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