The Conflict
It didn’t take long for the news to spread. One night, my two brothers came to my house, their faces dark with anger.
“Are you planning to keep it all?” the eldest shouted. “That money is Mom’s inheritance! Why did you hide it?”
“I didn’t hide it,” I said calmly. “I planned to tell you on the anniversary of her death. But remember—you both despised those blankets and wanted to throw them away. If I hadn’t taken them, this money would’ve been lost forever.”
The second brother muttered bitterly:
“Be that as it may, it’s Mom’s property. It should be divided equally. Don’t think you can keep it all.”
I stayed silent. Deep down, I knew they were right—it was our mother’s money—but I also remembered how they had treated her. They never gave her anything, while I, though poor, sent her what I could each month. When she was sick, I was the one who stayed by her side. And now…
Arguments dragged on for days. The eldest even threatened to take me to court.
