My name is Isabella, 32, from Manila. I thought I had finally found peace after years of heartbreak. My ex-husband, Miguel, and I were married young and deeply in love—but his parents never accepted me. They said I wasn’t “worthy” of their son. The tension tore us apart, and when our son Liam turned two, I walked away, returning to my mother’s home in Quezon City.
Years later, I met Rafael, a kind engineer who adored both me and my child. We planned to marry next month. But the night before our engagement, I received a message from Miguel. His voice was soft, full of regret. He said he’d bought an apartment for me and our son—no strings attached. “My love hasn’t changed,” he wrote.
The next morning, I visited our old home and found the documents in a dusty drawer, along with his note. Tears fell as I realized I still loved him. That night, I called Rafael and ended the engagement.
It wasn’t weakness—it was truth. Some loves never fade; they simply wait quietly in the heart, like a wound that never fully heals.
