At the bottom of the bag, beneath everything else, there was a folded piece of paper.
My name was written on the front.
I recognized his handwriting before I even unfolded it.
The letter began simply. He told me that if I was reading it, then I had found what he had been keeping from me. He asked me not to react before I had read every word.
He explained that the money was not connected to anything illegal. He had not betrayed me. He had not been living a second life.
What he had been doing, quietly and carefully, for years, was saving.
He had grown up in Cebu, in circumstances that were not easy. Many of the children around him had wanted to learn, had wanted to go to school, but had simply never been able to afford it. That reality had stayed with him his whole life.
When he began earning real money as an adult, he made himself a private promise. One day, he would do something about it. Not someday in a vague and comfortable way. Really do something.
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