In a Faraway Province

In a distant province, beneath steep mountains and wide plains, stood the humble hut of Mang Canor and Aling Merley. The hut, built from bamboo and nipa, seemed to embody their simple life as farmers. Despite their age, they continued to till the soil and care for the few crops left to help them survive each day.

Mang Canor, now in the twilight of his life, bore thick strands of gray hair. His hands, calloused and hardened from decades of plowing, carried the marks of a lifetime of labor. Aling Merley, though her body was frail, still diligently cooked, cleaned, and tended to their few chickens and pigs. Each morning, the couple would gaze at their old farmland, silently dreaming of a better life.

They had raised three children—Elsa, Rico, and Lito—but like the flow of the river, the children drifted away one by one. Each decided to leave the province in search of a brighter future in the city. At first, letters and money were sent home, but eventually, the communication stopped. The children never returned, leaving a deep wound in the hearts of the couple.

“Perhaps they are just too busy with their own lives,” said Aling Merley sadly one day, as she washed their clothes. Mang Canor, though quiet, continued to hope that one day their children would come back and rebuild their broken family.

As time passed, life became even harder. The once-fertile fields grew dry, the irrigation canals rarely flowed, and the mango trees that once bore abundant fruit had withered. To make matters worse, they borrowed money to buy seeds and fertilizer, which only added to their burdens.

“Canor, I don’t know how long we can go on like this,” Aling Merley whispered, holding dried palay grains in her hand.

Despite the hardship, they endured. Yet life was made heavier by cruel neighbors. Raul, a wealthy landowner, often mocked them:
“Why don’t you just sell your land to me, Canor? Farming here is useless anyway!” he would say, laughing with his companions.

Though hurt, Mang Canor endured.
“Don’t mind them, Merley. I will never give up this land. This is where we grew old, and this is where we will live until the end,” he reassured his wife.

Through all the struggles and mockery, their love remained strong. Each night, as the sky darkened and the cool wind blew, they prayed before their small altar.
“Lord, please bring back our family,” Aling Merley whispered, wiping tears from her eyes.

Their faith in each other was the light in the midst of darkness. They did not know that in a few days, an unexpected event would forever change their lives.

The Cry Behind the Granary

One morning, as usual, Aling Merley woke early to fetch water for their crops. But that day, the air was strange—too quiet. No birds chirped, and an uneasy stillness hung over the land.

As she approached the old granary, she suddenly heard faint but clear crying. Shocked, she nearly dropped the bucket.
“Canor! There’s crying…!” she shouted.

Mang Canor rushed outside. Following the sound, they reached the back of the granary where old farm tools and weeds were piled. To their shock, in the middle of it all was a large basket. Inside lay three newborn babies wrapped in fine blankets and pillows. Their faces were red, their cries filled with hunger.

“What does this mean?” Mang Canor muttered, confused.

The babies looked clean and healthy, as though they were children of wealthy parents. Aling Merley’s eyes filled with pity.
“Who would leave them here? And why?”

There were no footprints, no tire marks, nothing to reveal who had abandoned them. Only the crying of the innocent.

“We cannot just leave them here, Merley,” Mang Canor sighed. “These children’s lives are at stake.”

Despite their own poverty, the couple carried the basket home. They laid the babies on an old mat, while Aling Merley quickly prepared milk from sweetened condensed milk—the only thing they had.

When Mang Canor checked the basket, he found fine fabrics, embroidered pillows with strange names, and even a bottle of expensive perfume. These were items far beyond their reach.

“These are truly children of the wealthy,” he whispered. “But why abandon them here in our field?”

Despite their questions, one thing was clear—the babies needed care. They decided, without hesitation, to treat them as blessings sent into their lives.

The Mystery Deepens

Soon, the cries of the babies echoed through the once-silent nights. Neighbors grew curious. Some admired the couple’s compassion, but others whispered dark suspicions.

“Maybe they stole those babies,” gossiped Aling Salve, wife of Mang Raul.

But the cruelest came from Raul himself:
“You don’t belong in this. You can’t even feed yourselves, and now you’re caring for rich people’s children?”

The rumors grew until one day, Kapitana Melly, the barangay captain, came to their hut. Serious and formal, she asked to know everything. The couple explained how they found the children, even showing the basket and the expensive items.

Among them, Kapitana noticed a small bracelet on one of the babies. Engraved on it was the surname of a well-known wealthy family in the city—Don Ricardo’s family.

“This is no ordinary matter,” Kapitana told them. “These children may belong to one of the most powerful families in the city.”

This revelation began a series of events that would soon drag the old couple into a world of wealth, secrets, and danger.

The Arrival of Strangers

Not long after, a man in a fine suit arrived—Anton, a notorious lawyer. He claimed the babies belonged to his client and threatened the couple with charges of kidnapping if they refused to hand them over. But Mang Canor and Aling Merley stood their ground.

“If your client has rights, show us proper proof. We will not be intimidated,” Aling Merley declared.

The barangay rallied behind them, and the truth slowly emerged. Don Ricardo himself later appeared, claiming the children. But his wife, Doña Felicia, showed no warmth—only coldness and disdain.

Through Kapitana Melly’s investigation, a shocking truth was revealed: the children were not abandoned by accident. They were ordered to be discarded by Doña Felicia herself to protect her family’s reputation. The babies were evidence of Don Ricardo’s affair with their nanny, Teresa.

When confronted, Doña Felicia admitted her crime:
“Yes, I ordered it! I will not let these children destroy our name!”

The community was outraged. Don Ricardo, however, begged Mang Canor and Aling Merley to keep the babies safe, admitting that the couple’s home was far safer than his own mansion.

A New Family, A New Beginning

From then on, Don Ricardo supported the old couple. He provided seeds, tools, and even a new home. The once-dry land flourished again, and the hut became filled with laughter and new life.

Yet danger lingered—Doña Felicia, now disgraced, sought revenge. With her loyal servant Mateo, she tried to reclaim the children by force. But thanks to the vigilance of the barangay and Don Ricardo’s intervention, her plans failed. She was arrested and forever removed from their lives.

The once-broken farm became a symbol of hope and unity. Neighbors who once doubted them now helped them, inspired by their courage and kindness.

The return of their long-lost children—Elsa, Rico, and Lito—added new layers of joy and struggle. Each brought their own burdens from the city: regret, debt, and fear. But slowly, with love, patience, and the guidance of their parents, they began to rebuild their lives.

The three babies grew as though they were true children of the couple. Their laughter filled the air, erasing years of sorrow. The farm became not only a place of harvest but also of healing, love, and second chances.

One evening, as they watched the children play under the fading sun, Aling Merley whispered:
“Canor, it feels like God gave us a second life.”

“Yes, Merley,” he replied, holding her hand. “We may not be rich in gold, but we are rich in love. That is the greatest treasure of all.