Once, My Sister-in-law Said: You’ve Always Been Living There… But 30 Years Later, I Came Back to Pay Off a Debt

In 1990 , I carried only my courage and dreams when I left the province for Manila . In our barrio in Pampanga , almost all the neighbors shook their heads:

“There’s no money, you might just starve in Manila.”

I just smiled even though it hurt, fully believing that one day, my fate would be better.


My First Shelter

When I arrived in Manila, I had nowhere to stay. Luckily, I had a cousin on my mother’s side who took pity on me and let me stay in a small apartment in Tondo . She was a market vendor, and her husband was a construction helper. They were already crowded, but they still gave me a little space.

One day, he saw me constantly wandering around looking for work. He suddenly put ₱500 in my hand – a large sum of money at that time.

“Use this to eat. Don’t let yourself go hungry.”

I accepted, but I didn’t spend it. Every day, just rice with soy sauce or salt. At night, I went back to my corner of the bed, trying to endure it. That ₱500, I saved until I had saved enough to buy a small gold ring – that became my first investment.


Bitter Words

But as I stayed longer, whispers began to emerge. One day, my sister-in-law (my brother’s wife) came to visit and said:

“How long are you going to live here? You’re not helping anyone, you’re just adding to the burden.”

My ears turned red with embarrassment. But my cousin quickly interrupted:

“That’s my brother, I’ll support him until he can stand on his own two feet.”

But even though he defended me, I still felt the sting. Every night, I still hear my cousin complain:

“Let’s get busy,” added another. “When will he leave?”

I thought about running away several times, but my cousin always stopped me:

“Just stay here. As long as I can, I will help you.”

There I burst into tears and promised myself: “One day, when I succeed, I will make up for it in abundance.”


Difficult Year

I endured work as a construction worker in the morning, and a porter at the pier at night. Slowly, I learned how to repair motorcycles, until I was able to set up a small workshop in Caloocan . A few years passed, I was able to sell the motorcycle, and my savings grew.

I’ve been through the storm—lost, once almost going to jail because of a corrupt business friend. But every time I feel like giving up, I remember the eyes of my cousin who handed me ₱500. The memory of that simple help always gets me going.


Return

It’s 2019 , three decades have passed. I now own several companies, totaling about ₱200 million . I remembered my promise—so I immediately returned to their old residence in Tondo.

When I saw the apartment, it was almost falling apart. The walls were in disrepair, the roof had holes in it. My once lively cousin was now thin and had gray hair.

When she saw me, her eyes widened and she suddenly burst into tears:

“Is this really you?”

I knelt down, produced the title deed to a new house in Quezon City worth ten million, and a bank passbook:

“Sister, you gave me ₱500 and let me live without asking for anything in return. Now, I’ll pay. This is your new house. I hope you accept it.”

She trembled with tears:

“I don’t need that much. All I want is for you to live well. And now, I see—it’s been fulfilled.”

My cousin, now an old man, burst into tears and said:

“That day, I treated you wrong. I hope you can forgive me.”

I just smiled, and all the bitterness of the past completely disappeared.


End

When they moved into the new house, the neighbors swarmed them, whispering:

“Truly, the person who knows how to show gratitude is blessed.”

The story spread throughout the village, and everyone was touched.

Now, whenever I remember, I still cry—not because of the ₱200 million , but because I fulfilled this vow of mine:

“I will never forget the person who helped me when I had nothing.”