The evening lights of Marina Bay shimmered across the calm waters as Timothy's car pulled up to the front of Marina Bay Sands. The iconic towers glowed like pillars of gold against the darkened sky, the infinity pool above gleaming faintly under the stars.

Inside the grand lobby, Timothy spotted his mother, Evelyn, standing gracefully near one of the marble columns. She was dressed in a soft beige blouse and a pearl necklace — simple, yet dignified. Beside her was his younger sister, Angela, wearing a white floral dress, scrolling absentmindedly through her phone.

"There you are!" Angela said, waving as Timothy approached. "We thought you got caught in another meeting."

Timothy smiled faintly as he kissed his mother's cheek. "I did, but it's done for the day. Just us three tonight."

Evelyn returned his smile, her expression warm but tired. "Where's Hana? I thought she's always with you during business trips."

"She won't be joining us," Timothy replied as they walked toward the restaurant. "I specifically told her not to. This is a family dinner, and besides, she still has a few calls to handle with our team."

Angela chuckled teasingly. "You actually gave her a break from work? That's new."

"I didn't," Timothy said with a half-smile. "She just decided to work somewhere quieter."

They entered Rise, one of the hotel's signature restaurants overlooking the shimmering bay. The staff recognized Timothy immediately, reservations under his name often came with quiet attention. A maître d' guided them to a private table near the window, with a view that captured the illuminated skyline and the floating Louis Vuitton pavilion across the water.

"Please order anything you like," Timothy said as the menus were handed out. "It's on me, obviously."

Angela giggled. "Obviously."

Evelyn gave a small laugh. "You don't have to spoil us too much, son."

Timothy smiled. "Just enjoy the evening. You both deserve it."

After browsing for a moment, Timothy nodded to the waiter. "We'll have the grilled Chilean sea bass, wagyu ribeye, buttered scallops, and, " he glanced at his mother, "sinigang-style seafood soup, if possible. Something Filipino."

The waiter smiled politely. "Of course, sir. We'll prepare a special version for you."

"Thank you," Timothy said.

The food arrived soon after, plated beautifully, rich aromas filling the air. The sea bass glistened under the soft lighting, the wagyu sliced perfectly pink, and the soup carried the nostalgic scent of tamarind and shrimp. It was a fusion of luxury and home.

Evelyn clasped her hands together, smiling softly. "It's been a while since the three of us sat like this. When you were still in college, dinners like this used to mean the world to us."

Timothy nodded, setting his glass down. "And now it's my turn to make sure we have more of them."

For a while, the dinner was peaceful, laughter, shared stories, a few teasing remarks from Angela about Timothy's work habits. But as the plates emptied, Timothy noticed his mother's smile fading slightly. Her eyes were distant, her fingers nervously tracing the edge of her napkin.

He frowned. "Mom, is something wrong?"

Evelyn hesitated, clearly weighing her words. "Your uncle called me last night, my brother, Julio. He and his wife have been having a rough time. Their eldest, Mico, is in the hospital, and Julio himself… he's been struggling. His medication's expensive, and they're running out of money."

Angela's face softened. "Cousin Mico? The one from Batangas?"

Evelyn nodded slowly. "Yes. They asked if we could help them out. They don't know who else to turn to."

Timothy leaned back, the warmth in his chest replaced by a heavy silence. He remembered Julio and his family, how, years ago, his mother had begged them for help when his father was sick. Julio's family had been doing well then, running a construction supply business, while they were barely scraping by. The help never came.

"They didn't care when we needed help," Timothy said quietly. "You remember, right? You asked them to help Dad with his treatments. They said they couldn't 'spare' the money at the time. And now that they're struggling, they suddenly remember we exist?"

Evelyn lowered her gaze. "I know, son. I haven't forgotten. But they're family, and they're desperate. Julio sounded… broken. I don't want to see them suffer."

Timothy sighed deeply, swirling his glass absentmindedly. "That's the thing, Mom. If we weren't successful, if I wasn't who I am now, they wouldn't even think of reaching out. You know that."

"I know," she said softly. "But still… they're blood. I can't ignore them."

Angela nodded in agreement, though reluctantly. "Kuya, she's right. I get why you're angry, but… Mom's just asking for a bit of compassion. We're not the same people we were back then."

Timothy didn't reply immediately.

Finally, he spoke. "You know what I've realized, Mom? This kind of thing, it's common back home. Families cut ties when it's inconvenient, but when one of them makes it, suddenly everyone remembers they're relatives. It's like a cycle that never ends. Success turns into obligation. You become the 'savior' just because you escaped poverty."

Evelyn nodded slowly. "That's the culture we grew up in. Debt of gratitude, even if it hurts. Maybe it's flawed, but it's also what makes us human."

Timothy exhaled quietly, glancing out the window toward the glowing skyline. "Maybe. But sometimes, it feels like people mistake kindness for weakness."

He leaned back, staring at his mother's tired face, the same gentle eyes that had held their family together through every hardship. His tone softened.

"Alright," he said finally. "If you want me to help them, I will. But when we get back home, they have to visit us first."

"Where do you want them to see us?" Evelyn asked.

"Our office building construction is finishing soon," Timothy said and added. "I think that's the best spot for a meetup. Well, it kind of looks silly when you think about it, but that leaves a huge statement to them."

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