Mara had always believed love meant sacrifice, but sacrifice had hollowed her out. When her younger sister fell ill, their mother drained every account, sold everything, and borrowed against Mara’s inheritance without asking. Bills piled up. Doctors came and went. Mara watched the future she’d planned quietly collapse.
Her sister died just after turning eighteen. Grief turned into anger. Months later, when their mother appeared at Mara’s door with a single bag and nowhere to go, something inside Mara snapped. She said the words she’d carried for years. She told her mother she owed her nothing. That her future had been destroyed.
Her mother only smiled sadly and walked away.
The next morning, Mara’s husband handed her his phone. A message from an unknown number waited on the screen. It was from her mother. There was a photo of a folded document and a silver locket Mara recognized as her sister’s favorite.
“I never touched your inheritance,” the message read. “I spent my own savings. The account is only in your name. I kept this locket for when you were ready.”
Mara rushed to the address. It was a shelter on the edge of town. The receptionist recognized the name but lowered her eyes. “She left before dawn.”
Days later, Mara checked the account. Her mother had told the truth. Not a cent was missing. Instead, there were small deposits, saved quietly over years.
Now Mara keeps the locket by her bed and searches every crowd, hoping to see her mother’s tired smile again.
