Introduction

Every story begins with "Once upon a time." And since I'm not nearly good enough to come up with a more original opening, I figured I'd embrace the cliché instead.

Once upon a time, there was a woman named Edna.

She was married with four children and lived in a quiet town somewhere in Quezon Province. Her life was simple—not quite the grand future she had imagined for herself as a little girl.

Growing up, she dreamed of becoming a businesswoman. But dreams have a way of yielding to reality.

As the family's sole breadwinner, she didn't have the luxury of taking risks. Starting a business required more than just capital—it demanded time, energy, and patience. Unfortunately, those were things she simply couldn't spare.

So instead, she worked.

She accepted every opportunity that came her way, no matter how big or small. But most days, she earned a living as a laundress and a manicurist, using the strength of her hands to provide for the people she loved.

At this point, you might be wondering:

Was Edna a single mother? A widow? A divorcee?

No.

Her husband was very much alive.

But while you'd expect the father of four to be on a construction site, tending a farm, or out at sea—working himself to the bone just to put food on the table—you'd most likely find Edna's husband seated at a mahjong table.

He had been there for who knows how long. Two days? Four? Maybe a week?

Edna couldn't tell.

She had long since stopped keeping track. In fact, she couldn't even remember what day of the week it was anymore.

All she knew was that four clients were scheduled for manicures and pedicures that day. By evening, two baskets of someone else's dirty laundry would be waiting for her.

And tomorrow, she'd do it all over again.

This wasn't the life her husband had promised when they stood before the altar, exchanging vows to build a life together.

But what choice did Edna have?

Four children depended on her.

Of course, she had asked her husband to help. She shouldn't have had to ask in the first place. Surely, he knew that her earnings were barely enough to keep food on the table, let alone cover all of their family's expenses.

But every conversation ended the same way—with another argument.

And the children had already endured enough. They didn't need to witness their home falling apart piece by piece.

So, Edna would yield.

She always did.

Until one day, fate knocked on her door in the form of a man named Ramon.

He was her husband's cousin from his mother side who she'd seen at family gatherings over the years. They had never spoken much. In truth, there wasn't much reason to. Ramon wasn't particularly close to her husband.

Then again, very few people were.

The only company her husband seemed to keep was the group of men he spent his days gambling with.

Unlike them, Ramon worked.

And unlike everyone else, he noticed.

He noticed the woman who left home before sunrise and returned long after dusk.

He noticed the calluses that had hardened her hands. The exhaustion she wore behind tired eyes. The quiet determination of a mother carrying the weight of an entire family on her own.

Over time, they became friends.

And somewhere between casual conversations and shared silences, Edna finally told Ramon what she had never dared tell anyone else.

"I want to leave."

Not because she had stopped loving her family.

But because she was terrified that if she stayed, this would be the only life her children would ever know.

Leaving, however, wasn't as simple as walking away.

Her husband might have been unemployed and buried in debt, but he came from a family with influence. His grandfather is the current town Mayor, and their name carried weight in the community.

If Edna wanted to disappear, she had to go somewhere no one would think to look.

Somewhere far away.

Ramon thought for a long moment before speaking.

"Bring one child first."

Edna looked at him in disbelief.

"Four children will draw too much attention," he explained. "Before you even make it off the island, someone will recognize you. Word will get back to your husband."

Instead, Ramon suggested they travel to Santa Elena—a place where Edna remembered having a few distant relatives.

Once she and her child were safely settled, he promised he would return for the others.

It wasn't a perfect plan.

In truth, it wasn't much of a plan at all. It relied on timing, trust, and more hope than certainty. But desperation has a way of making impossible plans feel like the only ones worth believing in.

Then came the hardest decision of all.

Which child would she take?

She lay awake for nights, weighing a choice no mother should ever have to make.

In the end, she chose her youngest daughter.

She was only four years old.

Three children stayed behind.

One left with their mother.

And with that single decision, Edna carried not only a child in her arms...

...but the unbearable guilt of leaving the others behind, even if only for a little while.

When they finally arrived in Santa Elena, Edna went looking for the relatives she had hoped would take them in.

They were gone.

Years ago, they had packed up their lives and moved to Manila.

For a brief moment, Edna felt the ground disappear beneath her feet.

Manila might as well have been another world. Whatever little money they had barely covered the journey to Santa Elena. Following her relatives there was simply impossible.

Their plan had unraveled before it had even begun.

Ramon looked at the weary mother beside him, her four-year-old daughter asleep in her arms.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

The plan had been simple. Help Edna and her youngest daughter reach Santa Elena safely. Return to Burdeos. Then, one by one, bring the three children she had been forced to leave behind—all while making sure no one suspected a thing.

It was a dangerous plan.

But now, there was no plan left to follow.

Edna had nowhere to go.

No family waiting to welcome her.

No roof over her head.

No money to start over.

Ramon could have turned around that very day and gone home.

Instead, he made a choice that would change the course of all their lives.

He stayed.

They pooled together every peso they had and rented a tiny room—barely enough to fit the three of them.

It wasn't much.

Just four walls, a roof that leaked whenever it rained, and a floor they would soon learn to call home.

The next morning, before the sun had fully risen, Ramon quietly slipped out the door.

He wasn't looking for the perfect job.

He was looking for any job.

Anything that would keep food on the table.

Santa Elena was a small town where news traveled faster than people. Everyone knew everyone. If they wanted a chance at starting over, they couldn't afford unnecessary questions.

So they told the neighbors they were husband and wife with one young daughter. They said they had left their hometown after losing their home when the government reclaimed the land.

Whether the townsfolk believed every word or simply chose not to ask questions, Edna never knew.

What mattered was this:

They were welcomed.

For the first time in a long while, strangers showed them the kindness they desperately needed.

Not long after, Ramon found work helping construct fish ponds.

The pay wasn't much.

But it was honest.

For people who had arrived with almost nothing, honest work was enough to begin again.

The arrangement was simple.

Ramon would stay only for a few weeks—just long enough to earn enough money for Edna and her daughter to get by, while saving enough for his fare back to Burdeos. Once he returned, they would figure out how to bring the other three children to Santa Elena.

At least, that was the plan.

As the days passed, the three of them settled into a quiet routine.

Before sunrise, Ramon would already be out the door, looking for work. By the time he returned, his clothes would be soaked with sweat and streaked with mud, yet he never once complained.

Watching him, Edna couldn't help but compare him to the man she had left behind.

For years, she had prayed for a husband who would shoulder life's burdens with her. She never imagined she would find those qualities in someone else.

It wasn't because Ramon was extraordinary.

It was because he simply did what needed to be done.

Little by little, she learned his story.

Ramon came from a large family. He had five older half-siblings on his mother's side and two younger brothers who shared the same parents as he did.

Life had never been easy for him.

He started working before he was old enough to write his own name. School became a luxury his family couldn't afford, so he left before finishing elementary. Years later, he taught himself to read and write whenever he had the chance.

His late father had left behind a sizeable coconut plantation, and Ramon had devoted himself to taking care of it. Through years of hard work, he expanded what his father had started, turning it into the family's primary source of livelihood.

Perhaps that was why he had never married.

Work had always come first.

But the more Edna learned about him, the more she realized that hard work wasn't his only burden.

His kindness was, too.

Although the land legally belonged to him as his father's eldest son, he never treated it as his alone.

One by one, as his siblings married and started families of their own, Ramon willingly gave each of them a portion of the property. They could keep it, cultivate it, or sell it to pay for their weddings.

He never asked for anything in return.

Some even left the responsibility of maintaining the plantation to him, only returning when it was time to divide the harvest. Still, Ramon said nothing.

He simply went back to work.

The more Edna learned about the man who had chosen to help her, the harder it became to keep a safe distance from him. It wasn't grand gestures that drew her in. It was the quiet way he carried responsibilities that had never truly been his alone. 

After years of knowing only disappointment, kindness had become unfamiliar enough to unsettle her. 

Somewhere along the way, admiration became something more.

But she buried it before it could grow. 

Ramon had already done more for her than anyone else ever had. The last thing she wanted was to place another burden on the shoulders of a man who had already carried so many.

Besides, she was still legally married. More importantly, she was a mother of four. Three of her children were still waiting for her return.

Until they were together again, she refused to let herself think about anything beyond bringing her family back together.

But some battles are easier fought in the mind than in the heart.

One evening, after another long day of work, Ramon quietly confessed what had long been growing inside him.

Edna tried to turn him away.

He was younger than she was. Hardworking. Kind. Handsome enough that he could have chosen a woman without the burdens she carried. Someone who wasn't still legally married. Someone without four children. Someone whose life wasn't tangled in uncertainty.

"I have nothing to offer you," she told him.

But Ramon didn't walk away.

Instead, he chose to stay.

He never pressured her or asked for an answer she wasn't ready to give. He simply continued showing up every day—the same way he always had. He worked to provide for them, looked after her young daughter as though she were his own, and reminded Edna through countless ordinary acts that his feelings were more than passing affection.

He wasn't just courting Edna.

He was embracing the life that came with loving her.

For years, Edna had known only neglect and disappointment. Now, for the first time, someone chose her—not despite the weight she carried, but with full knowledge of it.

In time, the walls she had built around her heart began to crumble.

Eventually, she allowed herself to love him back.

Not long after, their family welcomed a new life into the world.

That was when my older brother, Edmon, was born.

For a brief while, it seemed as though life had finally begun to smile on them.

But peace has a way of attracting the past.

News soon reached Burdeos that it had been Ramon who helped Edna escape. Word spread that she had run away with him, leaving her three older children behind.

Desperate to reunite her family, Edna sought her mother's help. She hoped to persuade the husband she had left behind to grant her custody of the children.

But hope alone wasn't enough.

Although his grandfather had lost the mayoral election, their family's influence in the community remained strong. People still listened when they spoke, and many were reluctant to go against them.

Bringing her children home would prove far more difficult than Edna had ever imagined.

Then another piece of news reached Edna.

Her husband had married someone else.

To her own surprise, she felt no jealousy. No anger. No lingering heartbreak. If anything, the news confirmed what she had long refused to admit to herself.

Whatever love she had once held for him had died years ago.

But one question refused to leave her mind.

How could he remarry?

As far as she knew, they were still husband and wife. She had never signed any annulment papers, nor had she been informed of any legal proceedings. As far as she understood, no one could simply dissolve a marriage without the other spouse's knowledge.

Determined to find the truth, she began asking questions.

The answer she uncovered left her speechless.

Years earlier, when she and her husband had stood before the altar and exchanged their vows, his grandfather had been the town's mayor. The old man had never approved of their marriage.

And so, after the ceremony, he simply never submitted their marriage license for registration.

Legally, the marriage had never existed.

The vows they had exchanged were real.

The years they had spent together were real.

The four children they had brought into the world were real.

But in the eyes of the law, Edna had never been his wife.

With the truth finally laid bare, Edna and Ramon decided they would no longer postpone the life they had quietly built together.

Within the year, they were married.

Though she had started a new chapter, Edna never stopped thinking about the three children she had left behind. Every so often, news would reach her through her mother. They were doing well, she was told. Their father had remarried, and together with their stepmother, they were being cared for and provided for.

The updates brought Edna a bittersweet sense of relief.

She missed them every day, but she also knew the reality of her circumstances. With a six-year-old daughter and a one-year-old son to raise and barely enough money to support themselves, she and Ramon simply could not afford to take in three more children—not yet.

Determined to build a better future, they made another difficult decision.

When Ramon was offered a better job, they left Santa Elena and moved to Pateros, Metro Manila, in search of greater opportunities.

A year later, on September 12, 1998, another chapter of the story began.

I was born.