He sold his bl00d so I could study, but now that I earn ₱100,000 a month, when he came to ask me for money, I didn’t give him a single cent

 

He used to sell his bl00d so I could stay in school. Yet when he came to me years later asking for money, now that I earned ₱100,000 a month, I refused to give him even a single peso.

When I got accepted to college, all I had was an admissions letter and a dream of escaping poverty. Our life was so difficult that whenever we had meat on the table, the neighbors would know.

My mother passed away when I was ten, and my biological father had vanished long before that. The man who took me in wasn’t related by bl00d – he was my mother’s old friend, a tricycle driver living in a tiny room by the river.

After her d3ath, he, despite his own hardships, provided to raise me. Throughout my schooling, he worked nonstop, even borrowing money, to keep me in class.

I still remember the time I needed money for an extra course but was too shy to ask. That night, he handed me a few crumpled bills that smelled faintly of disinfectant and said, “Your father donated bl00d today. They gave me a little reward. Take it, son.”

I cried silently that night. Who would donate bl00d again and again just to help a child that isn’t even theirs? My father did. No one ever knew but the two of us.

When I got accepted to a prestigious university in Manila, he nearly cried as he hugged me. “You’re strong, son,” he said. “Study hard. I won’t be able to help forever, but you must get out of this life.”

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