When our mother fell ill, I expected it to bring our family closer. Instead, it exposed the deep rift between my sister, Samira, and me. Despite growing up in the same household, we couldn’t have been more different. Mom worked tirelessly to provide for us, often going without so Samira and I could eat. But while I valued hard work and sacrifice, Samira floated through life, relying on Mom’s money and boyfriends after college. Then, everything changed. Mom told me her heart was failing. With treatment,

she had a year; without it, just weeks. I promised to be there for her, but Samira soon moved in, not to help, but to control everything, especially Mom’s inheritance.As Mom’s condition worsened, Samira kept me away, making excuses for why I couldn’t visit. I eventually contacted Mom directly, and when I saw her,