I had been sending 1.5 million pesos each month to my mother to take care of my wife after childbirth.

A month in which my mother received my money.

A month in which Hue ate… garbage.

I clenched my fists.

“Why didn’t you tell me anything?”

Hue looked up at me.

His eyes were filled with fear.

“Because,” he whispered, “… She is your mother.

Those words hit me harder than anything else.

Hue wasn’t afraid of going hungry.

He was afraid of destroying the relationship between a son and his mother.

I took a deep breath.

Then I got up.

“Where is she?”

Hue opened his eyes in concern.

“He must be at Mrs. Marta’s house… talking to the neighbors.