WHILE WE WERE AT THE RESORT WITH MY FAMILY AND RELATIVES, I NOTICED THAT HER FATHER WAS NOT ENJOYING IT AND THAT HER FATHER WOULD NOT ALLOW IT — WHEN I ASKED HER FATHER WHY, MY BLOOD BOILED

The sun was hot, the water in the resort pool was sparkling, and the kids were laughing. It was one of the rare times that we were all together as a family. While Kuya Jun was cooking barbecue, the others were busy playing volleyball. But in the midst of the fun, I noticed one child—Leo, eight years old, quietly to one side, hunched over, holding a towel and seemingly afraid to go near the water.

“Leo, why aren’t you taking a bath?” I asked as I approached him.

He forced a smile. “Dad doesn’t want to, Uncle.”

I frowned. “Why doesn’t your dad want to? It’s so hot.”

He just smiled again, but his face was sad. “Dad said, I have no right to be happy if I haven’t done what he wants.”

Before I could say my next word, Eric — Leo’s father, and my cousin who is almost my age — came over. “Leo! I told you not to talk to anyone until your assignment is finished!”

The surroundings fell silent. We all turned around. I could feel the tension in the air.

“Brother Eric,” I said calmly, “he’s just a kid. Let him have fun. This is a family outing.”

“He’s not your son, Tony,” he replied coldly. “I’m the one raising him, not you.”

I didn’t say anything. But inside, my blood boiled. I knew Eric was strict, but I didn’t think he would be this cruel to his own son.

As time passed, I noticed that Leo wasn’t eating. He kept looking at his cousins ​​playing, as if he really wanted to join in but was holding himself back. When Eric turned away to get a beer, I approached the boy again.

“Leo, do you want to go swimming?” I asked.

“I want to, Tito Tony… but if Papa finds out, he’ll scold me. Sometimes he even hits me when I don’t obey.”

I stopped. It was as if cold water had been poured over me. “What do you mean, hitting me?”

Leo was silent. He just showed me his arm—there were marks on it.

I didn’t know what to feel. Anger. Sadness. And most of all, pity.

When Eric returned, I tried to calm myself down. But I couldn’t help it anymore.

“Eric,” I said firmly, “what are you doing to your son?”

He looked at me as if I were the one at fault. “That’s discipline, Tony. If you want a child to grow up to be good, he needs to feel that he is being obeyed.”

“That’s not discipline!” I suddenly shouted. “That’s fear, that’s not respect! He’s a child, not a soldier!”

Everyone was silent. Even our aunts, who hadn’t spoken for a long time, looked at us.

“If you want to mess with me, do it with your child, not with me,” Eric replied, walking away.

But before he could leave, my mother came over — Aunt Nena, the mother of our siblings who was like the light of the family. “Eric,” she said, “when you were a child, we let you be free. Even when you made mistakes, we never once shamed you. So now, it hurts to think that you yourself are the one who is taking away your child’s happiness.”

Eric was silent. I could see the redness on his face.

That night, while the children were sleeping, I heard soft crying from outside the cottage. I went out—and saw Leo, sitting by a lamppost, crying.

I approached. “Leo, why are you still awake?”

“Uncle, I just want to feel that someone loves me,” he said softly.

I couldn’t help myself from hugging him. “Someone loves you, son. Me, and all your family here. Don’t forget that.”

The next day, while eating breakfast, we were all surprised when Eric himself was the first to approach us. His eyes were puffy, as if from crying all night.

“Tony… Ma… I want to apologize,” he said while bowing. “You’re right. I overreacted. Even I myself, I don’t understand why I could hurt my son.”

Leo approached, still scared at first glance. But Eric hugged him tightly. “Forgive Papa, son. From now on, I’ll make you happy every day.”

We all fell silent. For a moment, tears welled up in Leo’s eyes—but not tears of fear, but tears of joy.

A few weeks later, I received a call from Eric. “Tony, I want you to know—I’m enrolling Leo in swimming class. He’s just now learned to smile for real. Thank you, huh.”

I smiled as I looked at the picture of us all at the resort, with Leo happily jumping into the pool.

Sometimes, it doesn’t take a punch or a shout to teach a lesson. Sometimes, all you need is to remind someone who’s lost how to love.

And that day, we all learned that a father’s true strength is not measured by the strength of his hand—but by the tenderness of his heart.