My eyes were burning.
There was only one question repeating inside my head.
Where did the money go?
Because for five years…
we had sent more than three million pesos.
More than enough to build a house.
More than enough for food, medicine, and comfort.
But instead—
our mother looked like she had been abandoned by the world.
“Inay,” I asked carefully, “where is Uncle Rudy?”
Our mother’s eyes suddenly flickered.
For a brief moment, fear passed across her face.
And that was when I knew.
Something was very wrong.
“He… he comes sometimes,” she said quietly.
“To check on me.”
My fists slowly clenched.
“Did he give you the money we sent?”
Our mother looked confused.
“What money?”
The world went silent.
“What… do you mean what money?” Miggy asked.
“The money we sent every month,” Mela said.
“Inay, we’ve been sending money through Uncle Rudy for years.”
Our mother stared at us like we had just spoken a foreign language.
Then she slowly shook her head.
“No… he only brings a little sometimes.”
My heart dropped.
“How much?”
“Sometimes… two thousand.”
“Sometimes nothing.”
The words hit us like a hammer.
Miggy stood up abruptly.
“That’s impossible!”
I felt my breathing grow heavier.
Two thousand pesos?
Sometimes nothing?
We had been sending tens of thousands every month.
Where did the rest go?
And suddenly the truth became painfully clear.
Uncle Rudy.
The man we trusted.
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