“Tito, Kung Gusto Mo Akong Umalis… Bayaran Mo Muna Ako!” — My Nephew’s Words After 4 Years of Staying Over That Hurt My Heart

I am a man in my 50s, who has experienced enough ups and downs in life. My children are all married and have moved out. I only wish for one thing: to rebuild the old house in Quezon City so that my wife and I can have a place to retire, in peace, without having to worry too much.

But who would have thought… my kindness would become a knife stabbing my heart.

Four Years Ago – When I Thought I Was Helping a Nephew
That day, Mark – the son of my younger brother in Leyte – had just been admitted to a university in Manila. His family was poor, his parents were farmers, sending him to the city was a heavy burden. Seeing that scene, my heart sank.

I said right away:

“Mark, go live at Tito’s house. The room and board are free, consider it as a family helping each other. Just focus on studying well.”

His face lit up. I clearly remember his hug of thanks that day. My wife also happily arranged a small room on the second floor for Mark. I treated him like a son, taking care of everything from meals to interview clothes, without calculating a single penny.

Four Years Living Together – I Think We Are Family
Mark studied well, didn’t play around. But there was one thing I noticed: he rarely talked to my wife and I, always kept his distance. I thought it was just his personality.

He graduated and got a job in Makati. Half a year passed, I saw that he was working and had an income, so I discussed with my wife:

“We have some savings, demolish the old house and rebuild it. Call Mark to rent a temporary room. After finishing the construction, if he wants to come back and visit, we are still welcome.”

My wife nodded. We had no idea this would turn into a storm.

The Fateful Conversation
That night, I called Mark down to the living room. I said softly:

“Mark, Tito is planning to rebuild the house. You rent a room for a while. When it’s done, you can come back anytime.”

He was silent for a few seconds, then looked up, his voice cold as a knife:

“Tito told me to go, so I went. But in the past 4 years, who cooked, cleaned, washed clothes, took out the trash? I did it all. Does Tito think I worked for free? I roughly calculated that 4,000 pesos a month is cheap. Then Tito pay me 200,000 pesos and I’ll go.”

I was stunned. My wife’s mouth was wide open, her eyes wide. I asked her back with a trembling voice:

“What… are you saying? This is Tito’s house. I stayed there, ate and drank for free. Now you want to pay me?”

He crossed his arms, calmly saying the most reasonable thing in the world:

I thanked Tito for letting me stay, but I also contributed. No one does housework, cooking… for free. Now I just want to be clear.”

The blood rushed to my face. I pointed at the door:

“Get out of my house now! I won’t give you a penny!”

The Second Shock – The Summons
Mark packed his suitcase and left that night. I thought everything was over. But just three days later, a barangay official knocked on the door and handed me a summons: Mark sued me for “using labor without a contract and not paying wages.”

The whole neighborhood was in an uproar. The whole family was divided. Some said I was “taking advantage of my kindness.” But some said:

“Living together must be clear and fair. Without a contract, it will be difficult to talk about it later.”

I Never Thought…
I used to think I was lucky because I could help my nephew go to school and have a stable place to live. But now, I realize a bitter truth:

Kindness… if placed in the wrong person, will become a trap. And the one who gets trapped is me.

PART 2 – Barangay Hall Is Hot As Fire
On the day of the appointment at the barangay hall, my wife and I arrived early. Manila was hot that day, but the heat outside was not as hot as the heat in my chest.

When I entered the meeting room, Mark was already sitting there, wearing a white shirt, holding a thick stack of papers. Next to him was his mother — my real sister, Alona. Just by looking at her face, I understood: today, this was not just a lawsuit… but a bloodbath.

The barangay captain sat in the middle, knocking on the table:

“Okay, simulan na natin. Mark, ikaw muna. Ano ba ang reklamo mo?”

Mark stood up, his voice clear, not shaking at all:

“Apat na taon akong tumira sa bahay ni Tito Rolando. Wala kaming kontrata, pero ako ang nagluluto, naglilinis, nag-aalaga ng bahay. Hindi libre ang oras at pagod ko. Gusto ko lang naman bayaran ang trabaho ko — 200,000 pesos para tapos na.”

A few neighbors present whispered:

“Aba, parang totoo nga. Wala bang pasasalamat ‘yung bata?”
“Pero libre naman siya ng tirahan, pagkain… OA naman yata ‘to.”

The Burning Confrontation
I can’t sit still. I stood up and slammed my hand on the table:

“Mark, I ka ba? I pay for my house, my food, my electricity and water! You lived here for free for four years. Now you come back to ask for payment? Where is my kindness?”

Alona jumped in, her voice bitter:

“Kuya, huwag kang magpanggap na mabait! Back then, who helped me and my mother? Didn’t you take money from your parents to pay off your gambling debts?!”

The whole room exploded. The neighbors turned to look at me, their eyes wide. An uncle sitting in the corner whispered:

“Ayan na… lumalabas na ang baho ng pamilya.”

Neighbors Join In
Mrs. Cora, the next-door neighbor, who was the “gossip queen” of the neighborhood, stood up:

“Ako nga, nakikita ko si Mark araw-araw. Siya ang nagwawalis, nagluluto. Totoo naman ang sinasabi niya. Kung tutuusin, parang katulong na rin siya doon.”

Immediately, another relative of mine, Tito Mario, retorted:

“Eh kung katulong siya, bakit hindi siya umalis nung nakatapos na siya? Libre na nga lahat, may allowance pa. Saan ka pa?!”

The atmosphere in the room was thick, everyone trying to get in on the conversation, as if this was a match that everyone wanted to win.

Old Secrets Dug Up
During the argument, a cousin stood up, his voice adding fuel to the fire:

“Kung tutuusin, Rolando, may utang ka pa kay Alona noon na hindi mo pa binabayaran, di ba? Baka ito na ang pagkakataon para magbayaran kayo ng utang!”

I was stunned. I knew my relatives still remembered the old story, but I didn’t expect them to bring it up now. My eyes glanced at Mark — he was smiling faintly, as if this was a game he had calculated every move in advance.

Barangay Captain Bồ Tay
Barangay captain had to bang on the table repeatedly:

“Tahimik muna lahat! Hindi tayo nandito para maglabas ng lahat ng family drama ninyo! Isa-isa lang!”

But no one listened. The meeting turned into a chaotic family court, where every word felt like a knife stabbing into the heart.

Finally…
After almost two hours of arguing, the barangay captain just sighed:

“Hindi natin ito matatapos ngayon. Bibigyan ko kayo ng 7 araw para mag-usap sa pamilya at magkasundo. Kung wala pa rin, dalhin na lang natin ito sa korte.”

Walking out of the barangay hall, I felt like I had just walked through a storm. But I knew… the real storm was still ahead. Because once you touch greed and family hatred, no one can predict what will happen next.