“Everyone thought he was dead. He disappeared for ten years. So on the very day of his wife’s wedding… he returned. But what he did… made the whole town cry.”

In 2014, in the town of San Miguel, Bulacan , a place rich in rice and the sweat of farmers, there was a man named Marco Alano , 28 years old. He was a simple carpenter, newly married to his wife Lynette Cruz , a market vendor. Due to poverty, Marco decided to go abroad as an OFW to Japan under the technical internship program.

Before he left, he hugged Lynette tightly at the terminal in Cubao. Lynette cried as she held the envelope with the contract and a photo of them as a couple. “I’ll be back, I promise,” Marco said.

During the first two years in Japan, Marco sent and called regularly. Lynette used the money she received to repair their shantytown, buy a chicken to pet, and pay for her nephew Jomar’s education.

But one day, around mid-2016 — he suddenly disappeared . Lynette never received a call or message again. She called the agency, went to the offices, but there was no clear answer. Some said Marco had been fired, others said he had an accident at work. Until the news came, “he might be dead.”

In the fifth year, no matter how hard Lynette tried, she was forced to file a Certificate of Presumptive Death. Nothing was certain anymore, and she couldn’t move forward in life if she continued to rely on the ghost of the past.

In her tenth year, Rafael Morales , a widower and teacher from the other town of Baliwag, came into her life. He was kind, quiet, and had long admired Lynette. Her mother, neighbors, and even her old priest advised her: “Lynette, maybe it’s time for you to be happy again.”

In May 2024, the wedding was held in a simple reception hall. Lynette, wearing a red Filipiniana made of pineapple, seemed happy… but there was sadness in her eyes.

While the reception was being held and preparations were being made for the ceremonial toast, a tricycle stopped in front of the venue . A thin, sunburned man got out, carrying a broken backpack. When Aling Tasing, a villager, looked at him, he stood up.

“My God… that’s Marco!”

Everyone was stunned. Some guests dropped their spoons. The band playing ‘Ikaw’ stopped . The groom, Rafael, was also stopped in the middle of his speech.

Marco was standing by the door. He was holding an envelope. He stared at Lynette. No tears. No anger. Just a smile full of resentment and understanding.

“I’m late, aren’t I?” he said softly.

Lynette seemed to be deaf. Holding Rafael’s palm, she let go of it and slowly approached.

Marco handed over the envelope. “These are all my documents. I had an accident at a construction site in Saitama, fell from the third floor. I lost my memory. I was put up in a Buddhist temple. They helped me come back, but only now did my memory come back… and you were the first thing I remembered.”

Lynette’s tears flowed. No words, no explanation. In front of the guests, she chose to sit to one side. The wedding was not continued. Rafael did not force it either.

The next day, under the mango tree in front of Lynette’s house, Marco and Rafael were sitting.

“I know I can’t erase the ten years I lost,” Marco said.
“But I won’t fight you either,” Rafael replied. “It’s just mine… if he ever chooses to love me, I’m ready to be a home now, not a memory of yesterday.”

Marco nodded. “And I, I’m just going back to Manila. I’m going to look for a job. But thank you… thank you for the love you showed him.”

Time passed. Lynette didn’t make a decision right away. But a few months later, she and Rafael went ahead with the wedding —no longer in the reception hall, but inside their house, in front of the altar, with only a liter of soft drinks and noodles ready.

Meanwhile, Marco became a construction foreman in Pasay. Every month, he would send a letter and allowance to Jomar — his nephew who is now a college scholar at UST.

A year passed. Lynette received a box from Manila. Inside was a pencil sketch: a woman in the middle of a rice field, while in the distance, a man was walking away from the sunlight . On the back of the sketch, there was a note:

“Thank you for your patience. Thank you for surrendering, if that is what will set you free. Bless you, Lynette.”

Lynette hung the drawing next to the old altar in the house. She no longer cried. Because her heart, even though it hurt, had found peace again.

Three people. No one is at fault. Nothing is wrong. There’s just time that has passed — and feelings that need to be released in order to start over.