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

January 5, 2026 by Nadia

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.”

During college, I took part-time jobs – tutoring, waiting tables, anything I could find. Still, he sent a few hundred pesos each month. I told him not to, but he insisted, “It’s my money, and it’s your right to have it.”

After graduation, my first job paid ₱15,000. I sent him ₱5,000 immediately, but he returned it. “Save it,” he said. “You’ll need it later. I’m old, I don’t need much.”

Years passed. I became a director earning ₱100,000 a month. I offered to bring him to live with me, but he refused, saying he preferred his quiet, simple life. Knowing how stubborn he was, I didn’t push. Continue reading…