The nurses rushed in.
“Sir Lando, please calm down!”
“No! My treasure! It’s gone! I can’t lose that!”
Mang Lando cried like a child whose toy had been taken away.
Adrian noticed an old leather wallet on the floor beneath the bed. He picked it up.
“Is this it, Dad?” Adrian asked.
Mang Lando grabbed it instantly, clutching it tightly as if it were pure gold.
Adrian was confused.
He knew his father didn’t carry money anymore.
So what “treasure” was he talking about?
“Dad, can I see what’s inside?” Adrian gently asked.
“Maybe you’re keeping medicine there.”
Reluctantly, Mang Lando handed it over.
Adrian opened the wallet.
There was no money.
No ID.
No credit cards.
The only thing inside, placed carefully in the clear sleeve, was an old, yellowed photograph.
It was a picture of a little boy—about seven years old, missing a tooth, messy and dirty, but smiling widely while eating dirty ice cream.
It was Adrian.
From when he was a child.
Tears streamed down Adrian’s face as he looked at his father.
“Dad… why is this the only thing here? Where’s your money?”
Mang Lando smiled as he gazed at the photo.
The confusion left his face, and his voice softened.
“I don’t care about money,” the old man said, gently stroking the photo.
“This is all I need. This is my Ian.”
“Why do you carry this with you?” Adrian asked, his voice breaking.
“Because…” Mang Lando replied, almost whispering to himself.
“Because I’m becoming forgetful.”
“The doctor said everything would disappear from my mind. I’m afraid… that one day, when I wake up, I won’t remember my son’s face anymore.”
“So I always carry this.”
“Even if I forget my name, even if I forget where I live… when I open this wallet, I know that I’m a father.”
“And I know that I love this child.”
Adrian’s knees gave way.
He collapsed to the floor in front of his father’s wheelchair, sobbing uncontrollably.
The man he thought had forgotten him was actually holding on with all his strength to the last remaining memory—just so his son would never disappear from his heart.
“Dad… it’s me… I’m Ian,” Adrian cried as he held his father’s hand.
“I’m here now. I won’t leave anymore.”
Mang Lando looked at him.
For a brief moment, a light seemed to pass through his eyes.
The old man wiped Adrian’s tears with his wrinkled hand.
“Enough,” Mang Lando whispered.
“Don’t cry. You look ugly when you cry—just like when you fell off your bike.”
Adrian laughed through his tears.
He hugged his father tightly.
That day, even if his father’s mind could no longer fully remember him,
Adrian knew—without doubt—that he had never once been forgotten
in his father’s wallet…
and in his heart.