On a rainy evening in Tagaytay, Marites found herself seated on the cold floor, cradling her slowly expanding belly. In the living room, Adrian was speaking in hushed tones with a woman whose identity was all too apparent. She could no longer muster the energy to question anything; the reality was undeniable.
Marites had made countless sacrifices. She returned to work, assisted Adrian in establishing his restaurant in Tagaytay, and endured humiliation. However, when the venture achieved success, the first words that reached her were, “I only love you now.”
At first, she believed she could endure it all—for the sake of their child. Yet, when Adrian coldly dismissed the ultrasound with the words, “Just do it, I’ll cover the expenses,” she realized there was nothing left for her to return to.
Silently, she packed a few clothes and her savings into her backpack. Before leaving, she gazed at the wedding photo hanging on the wall and whispered, “No more tears for you.”
She boarded a bus to Cebu, a city large enough to conceal her, distant enough to escape being seen, and fresh enough to allow for a new beginning.
Upon her arrival, she was five months pregnant. With no home, no family, and no job, she was fueled only by the burning desire to live for her child.
Marites found work as a waitress in a small diner near the port. The owner, Doña Pilar, took pity on her and offered her a small room behind the kitchen. “This is the life of a woman. At times, you must be braver than you believe,” she would say.
In October, she gave birth to twin girls at the district hospital. She named them Amiha and Liway, hoping their lives would be as resilient and strong as their names suggested.
Seven years flew by. Marites ran a small flower shop on Calle Coló, enough to support the three of them. The twins were bright and full of life: Amiha was cheerful, and Liway was serious, but both adored their mother.
One Christmas, while watching the news, Marites saw Adrian on screen. He had transformed into a successful entrepreneur in Tagaytay and was now the owner of a restaurant chain, married to Catriona, the former mistress. Hand in hand, they smiled at the camera as a picture-perfect family.
Yet, Marites felt no surge of emotion; her anger had faded, leaving only disappointment and bitter laughter.
She looked at her daughters, beautiful and vibrant. Children whom their father had once wanted her to abort, yet they became her greatest strength.
That night, she posted on Facebook, silent for seven years:
“I have returned. And I am no longer the Marites I used to be.”
A Bold Return
After Christmas, Marites returned to Tagaytay with the twins. She settled into a small house near the center and adopted the name Mariel Saatos.
She sought no recognition from Adrian. What she desired was for him to taste the same bitter rejection and humiliation that she had experienced.
Mariel applied for a position as an event coordinator at Adrian’s restaurant chain. Under her new alias, she quickly became known as Mariel: professional, sturdy, and easygoing. Adrian didn’t recognize her; instead, he seemed charmed by the charisma of this employee.
“You look strangely familiar. Have we met before?” he inquired at the company party.
Mariel smiled, a cold glint in her eye:
“Perhaps I’m merely a figment of your imagination. But I am the kind of woman you forget easily.”
A strange sense of dread clutched at his chest.
Mysteries Revealed
Weeks passed, and Adrian became increasingly drawn to Mariel’s presence. Meanwhile, she dropped subtle hints: the song he played on repeat, the dish he prepared for Marites’ birthday, the poetry lines he had once dedicated to her.
Adrian found it hard to ignore her. Who exactly was Mariel?
He began to investigate her background, discovering: Mariel Saatos, originally from Cebu, a single mother of twins.
The mention of twins sent a chill down his spine.
One day, he visited Mariel unexpectedly. When the door opened, two little girls greeted him. One looked up at him and asked,
“Tito, why do I resemble you so much?”
It felt as though a bucket of ice water had been poured over his head.
Mariel stepped outside and stated, “There you go, you’ve seen them. You already know your daughters.”
Adrian went pale.
“You… are Marites?”
She nodded.
“No. I am the mother of the children you wanted me to abort. The woman you ‘murdered’ to stay with your mistress.”
Adrian was left in shock. Memories flooded back: the moment he had rejected their child and the coldness of his words. Now, standing before him were two vibrant little girls, a testament to his wrongdoing.
That very night, Adrian returned to Mariel’s home and knelt at her door. In tears, he pleaded,
“Forgive me. Give me a chance. Let me be their father.”
But Mariel responded firmly:
“You have no right to be a father. You didn’t choose them. You should have fought for them; instead, you abandoned them. Now you seek redemption? My daughters are not trophies for your repentance.”
— “I just want to atone for my mistakes…”
— “You will pay,” she interrupted.
“Starting tomorrow, you will transfer 20% of the shares from your restaurants to the Foundation for Single Mothers. You will write this with your own hand: as an apology.”
Adrian trembled:
“Are you using the children to pressure me?”
Mariel smiled coldly:
“No. This is the cost of your sin, to teach you responsibility.”
A few months later, Mariel and the twins returned to Cebu. Adrian remained, gaunt and silent, a daily visitor at the foundation that now bore his name. He listened to stories from women whose husbands had “killed” a part of them, just as he had done to Marites.
One afternoon, Amiha asked her mother,
“Mom, why can’t we call him papa?”
Mariel gently stroked her daughters’ hair:
“Because he didn’t choose you. I did: I stayed. So call me ‘mom’; that’s enough.”
And thus, the story concludes: not with a roar of defiance but with the quiet strength of a woman who chose to fight for her dignity and converted her struggle into power.
She has become the woman who was once brought low, yet she rose again and tasted justice.