A Sister’s Love Episode 1: The Fall Before the Rise
Based on true events, with names and parts of the story changed to protect privacy.
May Lee was 28, a rising star in a multinational tech firm in Singapore. Her future looked bright. Armed with a double degree in Marketing and Business Management, she had already been promoted twice in three years. Everyone said she was born to lead. Smart, articulate, composed. May was the embodiment of “capable.”
But everything changed one rainy Friday night.
It was 11:47pm. May was just finishing a client proposal when her phone rang. It was a number she didn’t recognize. She hesitated, then answered.
“Miss Lee?” “Yes?” “This is from Tan Tock Seng Hospital. We’re sorry to inform you that your parents were involved in a car accident on the PIE…”
The words after that blurred into noise.
By 1am, she was staring at two bodies in the morgue. Still. Cold. Gone.
The days that followed were a storm of grief, logistics, and legal paperwork. But the biggest storm came when May remembered something important. Her younger sister, Jasmine.
Jasmine was 22, but had the emotional maturity of a 10-year-old. Diagnosed with mild intellectual disability and ADHD since childhood, she couldn’t hold conversations for long, couldn’t manage money, and had frequent meltdowns when overwhelmed. May’s parents had sheltered Jasmine all her life. Now, they were gone. And Jasmine only had May.
“I’ll take care of you,” May whispered, holding Jasmine tightly at the funeral. But deep inside, fear was bubbling.
At first, May tried to continue working and hired a domestic helper from the Philippines named Elma. But within two weeks, something felt off. Jasmine started flinching during baths. Then one day, May came home early and saw Elma slapping Jasmine’s arm, scolding her for wetting the floor.
Elma was sent home immediately.
The second helper, Nuri, was kind-hearted but overwhelmed. Jasmine would scream and hide in the cupboard, refuse to eat, or repeat the same question over and over. Nuri tried her best. But three months in, she quit.
Then came Mariam. Then Ket. One by one, each left. Some were found to be abusive or neglectful. Some scolded Jasmine for her “nonsense,” others locked her in her room while they went out for hours.
May couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t focus at work. Her phone never stopped ringing.
“Miss Lee, your sister is refusing to get out of bed again.” “Miss Lee, she threw her plate again.” “Miss Lee, the maid is crying and says she can’t do this.”
Then came the final straw. A call from the HR department.
“We’re sorry, May. Due to restructuring, your position has been made redundant.”
Now jobless, May tried everything. She dipped into her savings and took a part-time role at a small events company. But they needed her at fixed hours, and she often had to leave suddenly if Jasmine had a meltdown.
No one wanted to hire someone who had unpredictable family needs.
She tried enrolling Jasmine in a day-care centre for special needs adults, but Jasmine cried and panicked every morning, holding on to May’s arm like a child.
At one point, May found herself standing outside a charity-based residential home, holding Jasmine’s documents. But Jasmine sobbed so hard, saying, “Don’t leave me, jie jie,” that May turned around and walked away.
The world closed in on her.
The bills stacked higher. Her friends visited less often. Her LinkedIn inbox had more rejection emails than job leads.
And then came the quietest, most painful moment.
It was a Tuesday. May stood in front of the fridge, opened the freezer, and stared at three packets of instant noodles. That was all they had left.
She didn’t cry. She just shut the door, turned to Jasmine, and asked, “Want to eat chicken flavour tonight?”
Then one day, she met Claire.
It was at a free financial planning seminar at the library. May had dragged herself there hoping to learn how to stretch her last $3000 in savings. Claire, a tall woman in her 40s with confident warmth, was the speaker.
Instead of talking about returns and portfolios, Claire talked about resilience.
“Life doesn’t always give us choices. But it always gives us chances if we are open enough to see them.”
May stayed back after the talk. Something about Claire felt safe and strong.
They sat at a nearby Toast Box and talked. May poured her story out. The job loss, the helpers, the endless caregiving, and the shame of being so “incompetent” despite once being so “capable.”
Claire listened. Not once did she look at her watch.
Then Claire said, “Have you ever thought about doing what I do?”
“Insurance?” May frowned. “I don’t know anything about sales. And with Jasmine—”
“But you understand suffering,” Claire interrupted gently. “And you have a story people will listen to. Not because it’s sad, but because it’s real. If you can help others protect their families, while creating a flexible income for yourself, wouldn’t that be worth trying?”
May went quiet.
Claire continued, “I can mentor you. You don’t have to be a salesperson. You can just start by sharing your journey. You’re not doing this alone.”
It was the first time in a long while someone said that to her.
That night, May watched Jasmine sleep, her chest rising and falling softly. She thought about the bills. The unpaid mortgage. The social worker who had subtly hinted she might need to consider government intervention. And she thought about Claire’s eyes — calm, kind, full of belief.
She opened her laptop, found the registration link Claire had sent, and clicked “Apply.”
Maybe, just maybe, she was ready to write a new story.
To be continued in Episode 2: "The Climb to Grace" May steps into the insurance world, stumbles through her first rejections, but discovers a new version of herself. She finds not just income, but dignity, growth, and time — for the sister she loves more than anything