“After my death, all remaining assets shall be donated to ‘Helping Hands Society,’ an organization that supports abandoned elderly women.
No portion of my property shall be given to any child who rejected me, mistreated me, or abandoned me during my lifetime.”
That evening, her old phone rang. It was Riya.
“Mom… where are you?”
“Please come back tomorrow… I’ll cook special kheer just for you.”
Lakshmi’s voice remained steady and calm.
“I don’t have a home anymore, Riya.”
On the other end of the call, Riya said nothing.
A week later, after frantic searching, Riya finally located Shanti Niketan Old Age Home.
When she saw her mother—cleanly dressed in a cotton salwar kameez, sitting beneath a neem tree reading alongside other elderly residents—Riya rushed forward, collapsed to her knees, and clutched her mother’s hand.
“Mom… I’m sorry… I made a terrible mistake…
Please come home with me.”
Lakshmi gently withdrew her hand—not with anger, only quiet sorrow.
She placed a notarized copy of her will into Riya’s trembling hands.
Riya’s fingers shook as she read each line. The color drained from her once-beautiful face.
“The money… the money from the house sale… where is it, Mom?”
Mrs. Lakshmi met her daughter’s tear-filled gaze. Her voice was soft, yet unwavering.
