Blood favoritism: When times are tough, we know who is sincere

When my sister, Marites, got married in Quezon City, I sent invitations to my husband’s family. They all came, ate and drank happily, and laughed heartily. But when I opened the envelope from my husband – Ramon – I saw exactly 500 pesos. I told myself, he must be having a hard time, so I didn’t blame him.

However, when it was his sister’s turn to get married in Makati, he prepared 5 gold bars. I was stunned and asked:
– “Why did you give so much?”
He calmly replied:
– “My family only has my sister, I have to give her the best.”
– “What about your sister?”
He shrugged:
– “If you want to give a lot, you can earn your own money to give it, what does it have to do with me.”

That sentence was like a slap in the face. As siblings, in his eyes, “on his side” is worth all his heart, while “on hers” is not worth a penny.

At Angela’s wedding, I sat watching him laugh and talk, handing gold to my sister, feeling bitter. Not because of the gold, but because I clearly understood the position of me and my family in his heart — always behind, never equal to his paternal side.

Two years later, Ramon’s business failed. A losing deal caused him to default on more than 1 million pesos. Creditors came to his house in Caloocan to collect, the phone rang nonstop. He panicked and called all his paternal brothers, especially Angela – “the only sister” he had ever devoted his heart to. But this time, Angela only sent a short message:

“Pasensya na, kuya , my husband and I are short of money.”

Short of money? I knew her husband had just bought a luxury car, and boasted about his luxurious trips every week. But when my brother was in trouble… he didn’t care.

In the most desperate moment, it was Marites – my sister, the one he had given 500 pesos as a wedding gift – who, together with her husband, brought 500,000 pesos, and said softly:

“You two just worry about paying off some of your debts, and we’ll figure out the rest later. My family isn’t rich, but we can’t let you two suffer like this.”

Ramon held the money, his hands trembling, his eyes red. I stood there, looking cold:

“See? The person you once considered ‘having nothing to do with you’ was the one who reached out to save you in times of trouble. Where is the ‘only sister’ you cherished?”

He didn’t answer, just lowered his head. For the first time, I saw that he truly understood what favoritism was, and what it meant to receive in the same way you gave.

From that day on, Ramon became less talkative, no longer saying to me “if you want to give to someone, earn your own money”… Because he understood what true affection is, and what the coldness of blood relations is when you only know how to receive but not how to give.

When Neighbors and Relatives Speak Out

After Ramon went bankrupt and was rescued by his wife’s sister Marites with 500,000 pesos, the story spread quickly throughout the Caloocan neighborhood. Neighbors sat at the sari-sari store, gossiping, everyone had something to say.

A neighbor sighed:
— “Sayang, your wife is really lucky asawa but has a hard life. When Ramon was rich, he looked down on his maternal family, but when he was in trouble, he was saved by his maternal family.”

Another person chimed in:
— “I heard that when he married his wife’s sister, he only gave her 500 pesos, but his own sister gave him 5 bars of gold. What an excessive favoritism. Now, do you see who is the one who is sincere?”

His paternal relatives could no longer defend Ramon. At a gathering in Batangas, an aunt frankly said to him:
— “Ramon, you are living unfairly. You treat your sister-in-law like nothing, and yet they are the ones who saved you when you were in trouble. Where is Angela? Did she help you?”

The atmosphere was silent. Ramon just bowed his head, not daring to answer.

Meanwhile, I unexpectedly received many compliments. A cousin texted:
— “Ate, you are so brave. If it were me, I would have abandoned my husband. But you are still by his side, and you have kept your family’s kindness towards him. You are truly an inspiration to many women.”

Even my mother-in-law, who used to defend her son, this time sighed and looked at me:
— “You are right, Teresa, my daughter has been selfish and thoughtless. Luckily you are patient, otherwise this family would have collapsed.”

I felt both sad and heartbroken when I heard this. For many years, I tried to be patient, but only when I was in trouble did the truth come out. People realized my worth, and Ramon became a gossip: a husband who only knew how to favor, and was eventually humiliated by that favoritism.

In the following days, every time he went out, Ramon would bow his head when he heard the neighbors whispering:

“That’s the husband who looked down on his wife’s family, now he has to live off of his wife’s family to get through his debt.”

As for me, I wasn’t happy, but I felt relieved. Because justice had finally spoken. And I knew that from now on, Ramon would no longer dare to look down on my family.