My son Nam is the greatest pride of my life.My wife and I are simple country people — we survive through hard work and sweat, saving every penny with one single dream: to watch him graduate from college.So when he called to say he’d been accepted into a big company in Manila, we couldn’t believe it. I hugged my wife, and we both cried with happiness.And when Nam said proudly,“Dad, Mom, I bought a house!” my heart nearly burst with joy.That house was worth millions – something I never thought my son, who developed in poverty, could ever afford. In that moment, all our sacrifices suddenly made sense.Nam later invited his wife’s parents to live with him so he could take care of them. I didn’t object and it looked natural to me. The only thing that mattered was his happiness.

Sometimes, I would stop by just to see my grandchildren and ease the loneliness of the countryside.One evening, I arrived in Manila right before dinner.I thought I’d share a warm meal with my family. But as soon as I entered the house, Nam frowned and said loudly,“Dad, why didn’t you call before coming?”I froze, then forced a smile.I just missed you, son. I caught a ride and came straight here.”My daughter-in-law’s parents chatted cheerfully while she served them food. Nam barely glanced my way, hardly providing me a portion.I ate, but every bite tasted like sand.That night, I couldn’t sleep. I gazed at the ceiling of the guest room, feeling like a stranger in the house my own son – the boy I once carried through muddy fields – had built with his hands.Around midnight, I got thirsty and quietly stepped out. Passing by Nam’s room, I overheard their voices.