Every Saturday for a year, I baked Mom’s banana bread and visited her at the assisted living facility where she lived after a fall, maintaining our bond with stories and laughter. One day, I found her gone—released to my estranged sister, Lauren, who had vanished a decade ago. Lauren’s Instagram falsely claimed she saved Mom from abuse, launching a fundraiser while erasing my care. Heartbroken, I gathered evidence—visitation logs, photos, and Mom’s voicemail naming me her only visitor—and filed for emergency guardianship. In court, Lauren’s savior act crumbled against the truth, especially Mom’s voicemail. The judge restored Mom to
the facility. I redecorated her room with muffins and her favorite calendar. “You came,” she whispered, her memory fading but our love enduring. I vowed she’d never feel alone again, proving devotion outshines deceit.
