That was my secret to survival.

One day, I ran into an old acquaintance—Aling Rosa, my best friend from my youth.

Seeing me in a rental house, I simply told her that my husband had passed away and that life was difficult.

She took pity on me and invited me to help out in the family carindería.

I accepted.

The work was hard, but I had a place to sleep and food guaranteed.

That gave me even more reasons to keep my savings account a secret.

Meanwhile, news about Jun continued to reach me.

He lived with his wife and children in a spacious house, bought a new car, but got involved in gambling.

An acquaintance whispered:

“I’m sure he’s already pawned the title deed.”

My heart ached when I heard that, but I decided not to contact him.
He had chosen to abandon his mother by the side of the road.

I had nothing left to say to him.

One afternoon, while I was cleaning at the carinderia, a strange man arrived.

He was dressed elegantly, but his face was tense.

I recognized him: he was Jun’s drinking buddy.

He stared at me and asked:

“Are you Jun’s mother?”

I stopped and nodded.

He approached, his voice urgent:

“He owes us millions of pesos. He’s in hiding now. If you still want him, save him.”

I was stunned.

He only gave a bitter smile:

“I’m so broke now, I can’t help him.”

He left angrily. But that made me think a lot.

I loved him, but I was deeply hurt.

He, who had mercilessly abandoned me at that jeepney stop.

Was he now getting what he deserved? Was it fair?

A few months later, Jun came to see me.

He was thin, emaciated, his eyes red.

As soon as he saw me, he fell to his knees, his voice breaking:

“Mom, I was wrong. I was a wretch. Please save me one more time. Otherwise, my whole family will be lost.”

My heart was in turmoil.

I remembered the nights I cried for him, the abandonment I suffered.

But I also remembered what Ramón had told me before he died:
“No matter what happens, he’s still our son.”

I was silent for a long moment.

Then I walked into the room and took out the savings account—the money my parents had saved their entire lives, equivalent to tens of millions of pesos.

I placed it in front of Jun and looked into his eyes, my voice calm:

“This is the money my parents left me. I hid it because I was afraid you wouldn’t appreciate it.

I’m giving it to you now, but remember: if you trample on your mother’s love again, no matter how much money you have, you’ll never be able to hold your head up with dignity.”

Jun trembled as he received the notebook.

He cried like a child in the rain.

I knew maybe he would change, maybe not.

But at least I had fulfilled my last responsibility as a mother.

And the secret of that money—finally—was revealed, just when it was needed.