My wife and I have been married for 5 years. At that time, I worked as a technician in a small factory in Quezon City, earning just enough to live on. My wife, Liza, worked as a cashier in a supermarket near our house, earning only about ₱11,000/month.
Life after marriage was not easy: renting a room in a cramped barangay, having a small child, and having to worry about both sets of parents. How to spend money each month was a headache.

I used to assume that I was the breadwinner, while my wife—with her meager salary—was only in charge of cooking, taking care of the children, and spending money. I even said something that I had missed:

“I work just to make ends meet, that money is not enough.”

Liza just kept quiet.

One day, while I was at work, my wife texted me to come home early. When I got home, I saw a piece of paper on the table:

“I have paid a deposit for a small townhouse in dulo ng eskinita. ₱4.6 million. Most of it has been paid, only a few procedures left. No loans from anyone. Our house.”

I was stunned. Four point six million pesos? How could my wife do it? I was both surprised and… offended. I had worked hard all these years, where would she have the money to buy a house?

I quietly went down to the backyard. My wife’s laundry basket was outside, not yet taken away. I intended to help her finish washing.

But as soon as I touched it, I was stunned….
It was all old clothes, frayed and faded. There were bras that were so worn they no longer had any shape; pajama pants were patched; Liza had only had a few work shirts for two years, many with discolored collars and frayed hems.

I had never noticed. I used to think she didn’t like shopping. I used to tease her:
— “You’re not feminine at all, you’ve been wearing the same old clothes for years.”

She just smiled, without explaining.

I picked up the basin and washed each item by hand, as if it had been washed with my own tears. Suddenly, all the pieces of the puzzle came back: in the past two years, my wife had never bought anything for herself, but the house had all kinds of things to serve the family—a new rice cooker, a washing machine, a study desk for the children, even a bicycle for my mother when her leg hurt. Instead of eating out at palengke or restaurants, she cooked her own baon to take to work; instead of cosmetics, she kept her skin bare; she woke up early every morning to cook, and at noon she took the opportunity to sell things online (preloved/ukay-ukay) on Facebook Marketplace; in the evening, she cleaned up and sat down to write down her expenses in a small notebook—without me asking.

That night, when Liza came home, I sat there silently, not saying anything. She was a little worried:
— “Are you angry because I didn’t tell you about buying a house in advance? I don’t want to put more pressure on you… I just want you and the baby to have a stable place to live…”

I walked over and hugged my wife tightly:
— “No. I’m sorry… because I never asked you if you were tired. I never asked how you lived on ₱11,000/month. Now I understand…”

Liza patted my back as if comforting a child:
— “As long as you love me and the baby, I can take care of the rest.

It turns out that when a woman is determined to build a family, even a small salary can turn into a dream home, with patience, discipline, and unconditional love.

Never underestimate the small salary or chores that the woman in the house is doing. Behind that is a heart that knows how to sacrifice, a life of silently shouldering the burden of the two words “family”—between jeepneys, sari-sari stores, and the hot Manila nights when the woman by your side silently saves every penny to build our home.