I felt a sense of relief, knowing I could finally support Mom without Samira getting in the way. But deep down, I knew this was only the start.
When the hospital bills started coming in, I was stunned by how high they were—each one more expensive than I’d imagined.
I couldn’t understand how Mom had managed to cover it all, especially with how much money Samira had been going through.
I started to question where the money was coming from, knowing that Mom’s savings were nearly gone.
As the months went by, her health declined. She grew weaker and spent most of her time in bed.
Eventually, she had to be admitted to the hospital—and for the first time, I could visit her freely. Samira couldn’t keep me from seeing her there.
I spent each evening at Mom’s bedside—reading to her, holding her hand, and making sure she was at ease.
Samira watched me with barely concealed resentment. Desperate for Mom’s attention, she all but moved into the hospital, rarely leaving her side. But I knew her motives weren’t sincere.
One evening, as I sat quietly with Mom, Samira approached me with a serious look on her face.
“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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