I accidentally met my ex-wife, saw her suffering, I sent her 20,000 pesos – but a week later I got into big trouble
After work, I stopped by the old street next to the market in Quezon City, where my wife and I used to walk on weekends. It had been three years since Maria packed her suitcase and left the apartment we lived together, without tears, without a word of complaint. Everything ended as quickly as it began – silent and cold. I thought I had broken up, until this afternoon.

Maria sat quietly behind the kwek-kwek cart. Her hair, which used to be lightly curled, was now messy, her clothes were worn on the shoulders, her hands were shaking as she peeled quail eggs. I stood there, stunned. She hadn’t seen me, or maybe she had and was deliberately avoiding me.

I pulled out my phone, found my old number, which was still saved. I just texted:
“If you need anything, just say something.”

She didn’t answer. That night, I lay awake until three in the morning. The feeling of owing something in my heart made it hard to breathe.

The next morning, I transferred 20,000 pesos to the old account Maria used – the last time was the year before, when we broke up, there were still some apartment fees to pay.

The message sent, still no thank you.

A week later

The phone rang. An unknown number called:

— “Is that you, Ramon? We are from the Manila Criminal Police Department. Please cooperate in the investigation of an unusual money transfer.”

I was stunned.

At the station, I sat listening to the investigator reread the transfer, then pointed to the camera screenshot:

— “Is this…the person you transferred the money to?”

It was Maria. There was no mistake. But the investigator shook his head:

— “That account has not been under Maria Santos’s name for two years. The ID she used when she married you was fake. She has at least three different identities, married – and disappeared – in Cebu, Davao and Manila.”

I felt like I had been doused with ice water.

The harsh truth

I was classified as a “witness to be monitored”, not detained because I could prove that I was not directly involved. But I knew that the price I had to pay was not just 20,000 pesos.

I went home, opened my old files, wedding photos, messages, chats that I thought were proof of love… Suddenly, everything seemed so fake. We had slept in the same bed for three years, eaten at the same table, shared Netflix passwords… Yet, she had never left a trace of honesty.

A few weeks later, I received the news: Maria – or whatever her real name was – had been arrested at the Subic Bay border crossing while trying to cross the border. She was carrying three ID cards, two cell phones, and a long list of names that had been “baited”.

Last feeling

I don’t know what I felt at that moment. Angry? Humiliated? Or relieved?

All I know is that from now on, I will never stop halfway because of a familiar face from the past again.

Because there are things that seem to be kindness… but are actually just cleverly set traps.

After the Maria case was exposed, my name briefly appeared on some local news. Although I was cleared of all charges, I still had to endure the looks of concern and whispers from people around me. Old friends occasionally texted me: “Ramon, do you really not know anything?”

Every time I did, my heart ached. Not because they doubted me, but because I realized that I had been too naive, trusting someone to the point of being taken advantage of for many years.

Empty nights

There were many nights when I lay in my small apartment in Quezon City, staring at the ceiling and feeling like the whole world had turned its back on me. I asked myself: “Do I ever deserve a real home?”

I thought about closing my heart completely. No more love, no more close relationships, no more trust. But then, I remembered my elderly parents in Pampanga – the people who still believed that I would build a decent family. If I gave up, they would be so sad.

Finding myself

I decided to return to the simplest things. After work, I spent time tutoring the neighborhood kids in math and English. On weekends, I went back to Pampanga to help my parents repair the roof, and went to the fields with them.

Little by little, I felt that I still had value. Even though I was betrayed, I was not a loser. I still had the ability to give – but this time, I would give rationally, not blindly.

Learning to set limits

A close friend advised me:
— “Trust is like a house, Ramon. If you build it without a foundation, it only takes a small storm to collapse. But if you build it on a foundation, no matter how strong the wind is, it will stand.”

I began to learn to set limits in relationships. I no longer rushed to give everything, but listened more, observed more. I learned to look at actions instead of words.

A Little Ray of Light

One day, while I was teaching math to the son of a sari-sari shop owner, he looked up and asked innocently:
— “Kuya Ramon, why are you so nice to me?”

I laughed and patted his head:
— “Because I believe that if you grow up well, you will not hurt others like I was hurt.”

The answer startled me. I realized: trust does not disappear, it just changes direction. From being misplaced, I now learn to put it in the right place – where it can sprout into something good.

The Road Ahead

I don’t know if I have the courage to love again. But I know for sure: when my heart is ready, I will walk, not with illusions, but with eyes wide open and a clear heart.

Maria may have taken away the old trust, but I will be the one to rebuild new trust – from myself, from my family, and from those who deserve it