It was a humid summer morning in Manila, the capital city of the Philippines, a vibrant metropolis under the banner of the Oriental Empire. The sun had barely risen, but the streets were already buzzing with activity. Vendors were setting up stalls, children were playing in the alleys, and the city's commuters were beginning their daily routines. The city, as always, was alive with energy, a testament to the resilience of its people.
In a modest neighborhood in Tondo, one of Manila's populated districts, Maria Santos was preparing breakfast for her family. Maria, a thirty-eight-year-old mother of three, lived in a small but tidy house with her husband, Roberto, who worked as a dockworker at the nearby port. Their three children—Ana, the eldest at twelve, and the twins, Miguel and Marco, both eight—were the center of their lives.
