My son bought a house for 3 million pesos and then picked up his parents…

My son bought a house for 3 million pesos and then invited his wife’s parents to live with him. One day, I came to visit at dinner time and my son shouted: Why didn’t you tell me before you came? That night, I couldn’t sleep because I was in a strange house. I got up to go to the bathroom and passed by my son’s room and accidentally heard the conversation between him and his wife. The next morning, I quietly returned home early without saying a word to my son.

“I spent my whole life raising my children, and I thought I would be able to live peacefully with my grandchildren in my old age. Who would have thought that one day, my son’s family meal would make me feel like an outcast.”

“I dedicated my entire life to raising my son. I thought that when I got older, I would just be with my grandchildren while having coffee. But one night at my son Arnel’s house, I realized… maybe I was never a part of that home.”

Mang Ricardo, 68 years old, is from barangay San Felipe , a riverside town in Bulacan, where the elders still plant ampalaya, and the children chase each other while holding kites.

She was widowed early, and she was the sole supporter of her only son, Arnel . She never remarried. She dedicated her entire life to her son. Her only dream: for Arnel to have his own house in Manila, a wife and children, and a happy family.

And it was fulfilled.

Arnel — now a civil engineer , married to Leah , an elementary school teacher. They just bought a condominium in Quezon City, for ₱3M . When Mang Ricardo heard the news, he cried with joy.

It was his first time going up to Manila, and he brought some gifts from the province: stewed peanuts, salted eggs, and lambanog. But the night he thought would bring happiness… turned out to be a night of silence.

Without notice, he visited.

“That’s my son,” he said. “Why do I have to say goodbye?”

When the door opened, Leah seemed shocked.
Arnel immediately left the room and — instead of smiling — raised his voice:

“Dad? Why didn’t you tell me? Maybe we were busy!”

Mang Ricardo, I’m scratching my head.

“Ah eh… I was just passing through. I have some peanuts and eggs from the province…”

He was accepted.
But dinner?
Three simple dishes. No conversation. Arnel, busy on his cellphone. Leah, immediately entered her son’s room.

Mang Ricardo? Just staring at the rice. He has no taste.

There he was made to sleep on a mat in the living room , near the balcony.
He didn’t complain — he was used to a simple life.
But he couldn’t sleep all night. His son’s voice, repeatedly:

“Dad, why didn’t you tell me?”
It was like a slap.

At two in the morning, he got up to go to the bathroom.
He passed by the couple’s room…
And he heard the conversation.

“I told you so,” Leah whispered.
“When your father is here, it feels strange. It feels… embarrassing. The neighbors think we’re from the barrio.”
“Yes, I did,” Arnel replied.
“I’ll have him evicted tomorrow. It’s not easy here either.”

Mang Ricardo’s world stopped.
He sat on the edge of the sofa.
He wasn’t crying. But his whole body went cold.

The next day, at just five in the morning , he quietly folded the blanket, stuffed his clothes into his bag, and left without saying goodbye .
He took a jeepney, then a bus to Bulacan.
No one noticed. No one asked questions.

On the bus, by the window, he just looked at the distant clouds .
The tears? Silently rolling down his cheeks.

The cellphone rang.
It was Arnel.

“Father? Where are you?”
“I’m home.”
“Why didn’t you wait?”
“I’m used to the countryside.”

There were no other words. He hung up the call.
The ride was quiet. But his heart — there was a weight he couldn’t throw away.

A month has passed.

In San Felipe, it’s harvest time.
He’s back to his daily routine: watering vegetables, washing vinegar bottles, drinking coffee alone. But the neighbors have noticed — he’s not the same as before. He no longer mentions Arnel.

One day, Leah arrived .
Wearing a white uniform, carrying a bag of fruit.

“Dad… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say what I said.
I was just embarrassed. But it was wrong.”

He is quiet.

Leah looked around the house — seeing the old stove, the wet floor, the broken window. She burst into tears.

“Dad, we’ve already fixed up your room.
We gave you a new mattress.
Baby Paul… is looking for you.”

He didn’t answer.
But when Leah showed him the cellphone with the video call — Paul came out:

“Grandpa! Grandpa! When are you coming home?”

He smiled — finally.

Three days later, Arnel arrived.
He didn’t drive a car anymore. He
just rode in a jeep.
He sat next to Dad, while he pulled weeds.

“Dad… thank you. And sorry. To everyone.”

He didn’t look. But finally, he nodded.
And said:

“I’m going up.
But not because I want a house.
I’m going up… for Paul.”

Two weeks after that, the condominium in Quezon City had a new member.

Mang Ricardo — chasing after his grandson, cooking Leah’s favorite dish, and every night, the whole family is at the dinner table.

“Now,” he said, “I’m no longer a guest. I’m a father again — and a grandfather.”