One rainy evening, I saw a police officer outside the same convenience store. I approached him.
“Excuse me, have you seen a street child here? About 10 or 11 years old, skinny, name is Liam?”
The officer nodded. “Yes, mate. He was taken by foster care. There was a report about neglect and possible abuse. We brought him to a temporary shelter.”
My heart sank.
“Can I see him? I’m his friend… just for a short while.”
There were procedures, papers, and questions, but in the end, they agreed. They took me to the small foster home where Liam was.
When I saw him, he was sitting on the floor, drawing with old crayons. When I walked in, he looked up—and his eyes slowly widened.
“Kuya (Brother/Sir)…” he said softly, but it was clear he was struggling to keep himself from running toward me.
I smiled. “How are you, buddy?”
He walked closer slowly, still seeming afraid. “I thought… you wouldn’t look for me anymore.”
“I looked for you every day,” I replied. “I won’t let you disappear.”
Tears rolled down his cheek; he quickly wiped them away. “I’m sorry I was gone. They took me here. I thought this was bad… but they are kind. But… it’s still different when you know someone.”
Our visits lasted for several months—until the foster coordinator said one day:
“Jerick, Liam is always looking for you. We know you have a strong connection. If you’re willing… you can apply to be his permanent guardian.”
My world seemed to stop.
Me? A guardian? I had never thought about this even once. But as I looked at the boy who once only asked for bread—who now knows how to smile, learned to trust, learned to hope—I felt something I couldn’t explain.
A “yes” that I did not hold back.
The process was long, filled with interviews, assessments, and documents. But every day I spent with Liam was proof that my decision was right.
One evening, while we were eating dinner, he suddenly looked at me.
“Kuya… I mean… Dad… can I call you ‘Dad’ now?”
I froze. The world stopped. And for the first time, I couldn’t stop myself from crying.
“Of course, son.”
He stood up from his chair and hugged me tightly, as if he never wanted to let go.
And that was when I fully understood:
I didn’t save him. He saved me.
The small boy who once only asked for money to buy bread—it was he who would show me the true meaning of family, love, and having a reason to wake up every day.
And from then on, we were never separated.
In the end, what I thought was a simple act of help… became the best gift that ever came into my life.