“I want you to abort the baby. It only stands in the way of my true happiness. You understand, right?”
These words came from Adrián, the man Marites had been with for five years—words that shattered her last shred of trust. Both she and the child growing inside her were nothing more than obstacles to him.
On a rainy evening in Tagaytay, Marites sat on the cold floor, cradling her slowly rounding belly. In the living room, Adrián whispered to a woman whose identity was obvious without guessing. She no longer had the energy to ask questions; everything had become painfully clear.
She had sacrificed everything—left her job, helped Adrián build a restaurant in Tagaytay, endured humiliation. But when the business flourished, the first words she heard were: “I don’t love you anymore.”
At first, she resolved to endure all for the baby’s sake. Yet when Adrián threw the ultrasound onto the floor and coldly insisted, “Do it, I’ll cover all expenses,” she realized there was no turning back.
Silently, she packed the few clothes and savings she had into a backpack. Before leaving, she glanced at the wedding photo on the wall and whispered, “I will never cry again.”
She boarded a bus bound for Cebu—a city large enough for anonymity, distant enough to never cross paths again, and peaceful enough to start anew.
By then, she was five months pregnant. Without a home, family, or job, she clung only to the fierce determination to live for her daughter.
Her first job was as a waitress in a small eatery near the pier. The owner, Doña Pilar, took pity on her and offered a tiny room behind the kitchen. “Life tests a woman’s courage beyond what she imagines,” she often told Marites.
- Left her old life behind
- Found shelter in stranger’s kindness
- Gave birth secretly to twin girls
In October, she delivered twin daughters at the district hospital. Naming them Amihan and Liway, she hoped their lives would be as serene and resilient as their names suggested.
Seven years passed. Now Marites owned a modest flower shop on Colon Street, earning enough to support herself and her daughters. Amihan was cheerful and lively, Liway, more thoughtful and serious—yet both adored their mother.
One Christmas, while watching the news, Marites saw Adrián on television. He had become a prosperous businessman in Tagaytay, owning a chain of restaurants and married to Catriona, his former mistress. Hand-in-hand, they smiled before the cameras—the perfect family image.
But bitterness no longer burned in Marites’ heart; rage had given way to disappointment and bitter amusement.
Looking at her daughters—once threatened by abortion—they stood now as her greatest strength.
Key Insight: The greatest victory came not from revenge, but from resilience and love.
The Return
After the holidays, Marites relocated with her twins back to Tagaytay, renting a small house near the city center under the alias Mariel Santos.
She sought no recognition from Adrián, only desired for him to embody the sense of abandonment and rejection she had endured.
Applying for a position as event coordinator in one of Adrián’s restaurants, she quickly earned a reputation as Mariel: competent, composed, and approachable. Adrián failed to realize her real identity, instead growing fascinated by the charm of this new employee.
“You seem familiar. Have we met before?” Adrián asked during a corporate event.
With a cool glint, Mariel responded, “Perhaps in a dream. But I’m the kind of woman who’s easy to forget.”
“An unsettling feeling took hold of Adrián’s heart.”
The Revelation
Over the following weeks, Adrián found himself drawn to Mariel’s presence. She intentionally dropped subtle hints: a song they once shared, a dish he used to cook for Marites on her birthday, a line of poetry whispered in the past.
Adrián could no longer contain his curiosity. Who was Mariel, truly?
He commissioned an investigation and uncovered Mariel’s history: a single mother of twins from Cebu.
“Twins?” A chill ran down his spine.
Unexpectedly visiting Mariel’s home, Adrián was greeted by two young girls. One glanced at him and asked, “Uncle, why do I look just like you?”
It was like icy water thrown over Adrián’s face.
Calmly, Mariel stepped out and stated, “Yes, you came. Now you know your daughters.”
Adrián pale-faced, stammered, “You… are Marites?”
She nodded firmly.
“No. I am the mother of the children you forced to abort. The woman you left behind to be with your mistress.”
Stunned, memories flooded Adrián—of the night he rejected his own child, of his cold words. And now, before him stood two living proof of his wrongdoing.
That night, he knelt at Mariel’s door, tears streaming:
“Forgive me. Give me a chance. Let me be their father.”
Mariel’s voice was resolute:
“You have no right to be their father. You did not choose us. When you should have fought for us, you abandoned us. Now you seek redemption? My daughters are not trophies of your regret.”
“I want to make amends for my mistake…”
“You will,” she interrupted. “Starting tomorrow, you will transfer 20% of your restaurant shares to the Single Mothers’ Foundation. And you will draft the agreement yourself—as your apology.”
Trembling, Adrián asked, “Are you using the girls to pressure me?”
Mariel smiled coldly:
“No. I’m using your sin to teach you responsibility.”
Months later, Mariel and the twins returned to Cebu. Adrián remained behind—thin, silent, visiting daily the foundation bearing his name. He listened to the stories of women abandoned by their husbands, just like Marites.
One afternoon, Amihan asked her mother:
“Mom, why can’t we call him dad?”
Mariel gently stroked her daughters’ hair, smiling:
“Because he didn’t choose us. But I never left you. So just calling me mom is enough.”
Thus concludes the story—not with furious outcry but the quiet strength of a woman who fought for dignity and transformed her hardship into power.
She was once forsaken, yet ultimately rose to embody justice.
In summary, the steadfast courage of a mother who dared to start over against all odds reveals the true meaning of resilience and love. This narrative proves how abandoning one’s responsibilities does not erase the consequences, and that strength often blooms in the face of betrayal.