At 78, I know better than to expect miracles. Age teaches you a few things… so when I got sick, I called my family together. Not out of naivety, mind you, but because sometimes, you want to feel like a mother again — just for an evening. But warmth? Love? No. I saw the tight smiles, the restless glances. And after dinner, I caught whispers sharp enough to slice through bone: “If she hasn’t rewritten the will…””If Mom suspects…” It hit me like a slap. Not one child in that room was thinking of me — only the inheritance clock ticking away. That night, I lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Hurt burned away, leaving something much colder, much clearer. By morning,
I knew exactly what to do. I smiled brightly at breakfast, let them play their parts — smiling, pouring coffee, pretending. And then, sweet as honey, I said: “You’ll get every cent… but only under ONE CONDITION.” The room froze. I could see their faces, all lined with expectation. They waited for me to continue, their eyes hopeful but cautious. I want you to prove something to me,” I said, eyes steady on each of them. “I want to see that you can care for one another without expecting anything in return. You’ll all have to go through a trial — a test of patience, kindness, and selflessness.” They blinked,