“Let’s sell them while they’re still alive,” she pleaded.
But Roger was stubborn.
“This will pass. We just need to endure a little longer.”
From constant worry and sleepless nights, he grew weak. He was even hospitalized in Cabanatuan due to extreme exhaustion and stress. He spent more than a month resting in his in-laws’ province.
When he returned to the mountain, half of his pigs were already gone. The price of feed had doubled. The bank had started calling to collect his loan payments.
Every night, as rain pounded against the tin roof of the pig pens, Roger felt as if everything he had worked for was slowly collapsing.
Until one night, after another call from a creditor, he sat down on the floor and whispered:
“I’m finished.”
The next morning, he closed the piggery. He handed the key to the landowner—Mang Tino—and walked down the mountain. He couldn’t bear to watch the total collapse of everything he had built. In his mind, everything was already a loss.
For five years, he never returned to the mountain.
He and Marites moved to Quezon City and worked as factory workers. Life was simple—not rich, but peaceful.
Whenever someone talked about pig farming, Roger would only smile bitterly.
“I just fed my money to the mountain.”
But earlier this year, Mang Tino suddenly called him. His voice was trembling.
“Roger… come up here. Your old piggery… something big happened.”
The next day, Roger traveled more than 40 kilometers up the mountain. The old dirt road was now covered with grass and trees, as if it had been abandoned for a decade.
As he climbed, his chest filled with anxiety and fear.
Was the pig pen already destroyed?
Or was there no trace left of his former dream?
When he turned the last curve of the mountain, he suddenly stopped.
The place he had abandoned… looked alive.
It was no longer the old piggery he had left behind. The rusty tin roof was now covered with vines and thick vegetation. The muddy pens had blended into the forest. Trees around the area had grown tall, and the old pathway was almost unrecognizable.
But that wasn’t what made him stop.
He heard sounds.
“Ngrok… ngrok…”
Roger froze.
Slowly, he walked closer to the fence that was almost buried under tall grass. When he peeked inside the old pen, he stepped back in shock.
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