In the middle of the night, I received a text message from my husband: “Come down and open the door in 5 minutes,” I jumped out of bed and ran to the door… only to be stunned by the scene before my eyes at the neighbor’s house.

Late at night, the small house in a narrow alley in Quezon City was quiet, with only the sound of light rain hitting the metal roof. I – Marites – curled up in the blanket, trying to coax sleep after a long tiring day. My husband, Roberto, is a long-distance truck driver, often away from home for several days in a row. Tonight, he said he had to run a shipment to Batangas and would return tomorrow morning. I was used to nights alone, but for some reason, my heart was still restless.

My phone suddenly vibrated, the screen flashing in the dark. A text message from Roberto:
“Come down and open the door in 5 minutes.”

I was surprised, my heart pounding. Roberto was coming home early? He hadn’t said anything about finishing the shipment ahead of schedule. Both happy and curious, I jumped up, put on a thin cardigan, and hurriedly ran down the stairs. The house across the street, where my close neighbor Alona lived, was still lit with a dim yellow light.

Alona was a beautiful, single woman who worked in a real estate company in Makati. She often came to my house to chat and share stories about her daily life, so we were quite close.

Three minutes left. I stood at the door, clutching my keys tightly, my eyes glancing through the small window towards Alona’s house. Suddenly, a soft laugh rang out, mixed with footsteps. I frowned, looking out curiously.

Under the streetlights, I saw a familiar figure walking out of Alona’s gate. It was Roberto. My husband. He was wearing a familiar jacket, but next to him was Alona, her arm around his, her head leaning intimately on his shoulder. They whispered something, then Alona leaned down and kissed him lightly on the cheek before he turned away.

I froze, my feet rooted to the floor. My blood froze. Roberto was having an affair? With Alona? The person I considered a sister? I wanted to rush out and confront him, but my body felt locked.

The phone vibrated again. Another message from Roberto…

“I’m here, open the door quickly.”

I opened the door tremblingly, trying to stay calm. Roberto walked in, smiling brightly as always.

“Why are you looking at me so strangely?” he asked, his voice carefree.

I stared at him, my voice faltering:

“Where have you been?”

“Where do you mean? I just got back early, stopped by the sari-sari store to buy some things and came straight here.” Roberto replied, frowning.

I laughed bitterly:

“Sari-sari store? Do you think I’m blind? I saw you at Alona’s house, Roberto. You and her…”

Roberto was stunned and then laughed:

“What are you talking about? Alona? You and her?” he shook his head. “Marites, you misunderstood. Come in, I’ll explain.”

In the kitchen, he told me a story that I couldn’t believe. It turned out that Alona was not an ordinary neighbor. She was Roberto’s distant cousin, but due to a long-standing family feud, she didn’t want anyone to know about their relationship. They met again by chance when she moved across the street from me.

Alona was in a huge debt due to a failed investment. Roberto had secretly helped her pay it off by taking a few extra rides.

“I’ll stop by tonight to give her some money because she’s going to court with her creditors,” he said, taking out a stack of transfer receipts. “As for the kiss… she must have been really grateful. I swear, there’s nothing between us.”

I looked at the receipts, then into Roberto’s eyes. His gaze didn’t waver. But my heart was still in turmoil.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you have to hide it?” I asked, tears welling up.

“I was afraid you’d worry. The money I gave you came from my own savings, not from our shared money. I was going to tell you after everything was over.” Roberto held my hand. – “Marites, I only have you.”

At that moment, the doorbell rang. It was Alona. Her eyes were red, her voice trembling:

“Marites, I heard from Roberto. I’m sorry for making you misunderstand. I have no intention of doing anything to Roberto. Thank you for having such a good husband.”

Alona confirmed the whole story, and also gave me the debt papers and text messages exchanged with Roberto, all about paying off the debt. I breathed a sigh of relief, but I was still bitter that the person I trusted the most had kept such a big secret from me – even though it was for a good reason.

That night, when Alona left, I looked straight at Roberto:

“From now on, don’t hide anything from me anymore, okay?”

He nodded:
“I promise.”

The rain outside had stopped, the moonlight was shining through the clouds. I leaned on his shoulder, feeling relieved but still feeling the lingering pain. I knew that this crack would take time to heal. But at least I still have him – my clumsy but sincere husband – and a valuable lesson in trust.

Part 2 — The Paper No One Wants to See

The next morning, the alley in Quezon City was still wet with rain. I woke up early to cook a pot of lugaw to warm my stomach, but my hands were shaking, and it still overflowed. Roberto was sound asleep on the sofa, his jacket hanging loosely over the back of the chair. I looked at him for a long time. The “I promise” from last night kept ringing in my head, but my heart refused to believe it.

I was cleaning up when a brown envelope fell out of his jacket pocket — the kind with the green “Notarial” stamp. I stopped. My reason said “don’t trespass,” and my intuition screamed “open it.”

Inside was a stack of papers: a “PSA Serbilis” receipt, a reimbursement form, and… a clearly stamped Certificate of Marriage. Groom’s name: Roberto S. Manalo. Bride’s name: Alona Dizon. Place of registration: Mandaluyong City Hall. Year… 2016.

I felt the floor slipping from under my feet. My vision blurred, and I could only read one more line: “No record of annulment.” No annulment.

The bathroom door opened, and Roberto came out, drying his hair, surprised to see the envelope in my hand. I put the paper down on the table like a knife.

—“Explain.” I said, my voice hoarse.

He looked at the paper, at me, as if struck by lightning. It took a few seconds for Roberto to pull up a chair, sit across from me, and clasp his hands together.

—“I was going to tell you… but I didn’t have time.”

—“Say what? That Alona is your legal wife?”

The kitchen was dead silent. The ticking of the wall clock seemed to hammer each word into my chest.

Roberto took a deep breath.

— “Many years ago… Alona and I got married in a flash. At that time, I was driving and working at a grocery store, while she was taking care of her sick mother. Both families objected, and we argued constantly. Three months later, we separated. There is no divorce here, you know. To cancel the marriage costs money and time. I left…”

— “And you… married me.” — I laughed dryly. — “While still being someone else’s husband on paper?”

He bowed his head. “I was wrong. I thought… we were done. I was stupid to avoid it. When I met you, I just wanted to start over. I was planning to file for annulment, I gathered money… But right when Alona was mired in debt, the creditors brought up the marriage certificate and threatened to accuse me of bigamy to force me to pay. Last night I went there because of the annulment, and… because the creditors were after me. That kiss was… her foolish thank you, nothing more.”

I gripped the edge of the table until my hands were empty.

— “Why didn’t you say so earlier? Why did you have to let me see it myself?”

— “I was afraid of losing you.” Roberto said, his voice almost whispering. — “I intended to finish the first step, then we would sign it together, and leave together. I know I’m a coward. But I didn’t betray you. I just… ran away from the past.”

The iron door in the yard suddenly creaked. I was startled. Alona stood at the gate, holding a stack of papers, her eyes red. I opened the door slightly. She begged:

— “Marites, give me a few minutes. You have the right to be angry. But… let me finish.”

I looked at Roberto, then opened the door. Alona walked in, put down the stack of documents, poured a glass of water, and held it tightly like someone clinging to a life buoy.

— “Roberto and I got married in haste, foolishly like teenagers who thought love could conquer everything. Three months later, we were broken. I packed up my pride and left. A few years later, I met you — I knew you were a good person. I thought: the past is dead. Who would have thought it would come back to life in the worst way.”

She showed me the messages from the unknown number: threats, photos of the marriage certificate, and the exorbitant interest rate. I flipped through more: the draft “Petition for Declaration of Nullity of Marriage” had not been filed, the “Not for filing” mark was as big as a bruise.

Alona pursed her lips:

— “I never intended to steal anyone’s husband. If I am at fault, it is for not facing this paper sooner. I beg you… don’t let the creditors destroy your family. If we need to confront each other at the barangay, I am ready.”

I held my head. The kitchen suddenly became as cold as the rain the night before. All the pieces were shaking: trust, pride, rules, and the so-called “right” marriage.

Part of me wanted to smash the stack of papers. Another part was unusually sober. I heard myself say:

— “Okay. Come to the barangay hall this afternoon. Put everything on the table. No more darkness.”

That afternoon, the barangay hall was packed. The neighbors in the alley who loved tsismis whispered when they saw us enter. Kapitan invited us to sit. On the table, I placed everything: the marriage certificate, the PSA receipt, the threatening messages, the draft of the annulment. I stood up straight, not wanting to tremble anymore.

— “I am Marites. I have not come to make a fuss. I have come to end the secrecy.”

Roberto confessed. Alona confirmed. Kapitan wrote in his blotter, told him to stay calm, not to let the moneylenders come to destroy the village. An old tanod pushed his glasses, advised him to “file a report at the nearest police station if you are threatened.” I nodded, taking everything down, like a machine.

When the meeting ended, I stood outside the barangay corridor, watching the people passing by, listening to the tricycles revving their engines. I did not cry anymore. Tears would be for tonight. Now, I needed to think.

Roberto stepped out, standing silently a breath away from me.

— “I know I am not worthy. Whatever you want… I will follow.”

— “I want the truth,” I replied. — “From now on, everything related to that paper, I will tell you. The documents, the costs, the legal risks. There is no more ‘for me to worry about’. And… I will sleep on the sofa until you feel confident enough to sleep in the same bed.”

He nodded, his eyes red: “I understand.”

Alona walked by, head bowed. I called:

— “Wait.” — She turned back. — “And there is something you haven’t said: Why are you looking for Roberto now? The creditor can threaten you in all sorts of ways, but why did you reveal the marriage certificate?”

Alona was silent. Two seconds. Five seconds. Ten seconds. Then she sighed:

— “Because… it’s not just the creditor who knows this secret.”

— “Who else?”

She looked straight at me, her eyes sparkling as if they were about to burst:

— “My mother. She fell ill again. She said that before she closed her eyes, she wanted to correct an old mistake: forcing me to give up my marriage with Roberto years ago. She asked for an excerpt from the PSA… and told the whole story to my brother in Bulacan. My brother… was an acquaintance of a loan shark. The news reached them very quickly. I was trying to arrange to pay it off in installments, when…” — she tightened her grip on the strap of her bag — “…when Roberto jumped in to help. And I let you witness last night. My fault.”

The sky was leaden gray, the wind carried the smell of damp mud, and the sound of halo-halo calls echoed in the distance. I suddenly felt an inexplicable fatigue fall on my shoulders. But at the same time, another string tightened in me: alertness.

— “Okay. Then let’s do it in order: One, block the debt. Two, file the annulment properly, no ‘brokers’ or ‘fixers’. Three, if anyone threatens, make a record. Four…” — I looked at Roberto — “…you have to tell the truth to my family. Don’t let anyone else speak for you.”

Roberto swallowed. “I will.”

I turned away and the phone rang. Unknown number. I picked up.

— “Hello, is this Mrs. Marites Manalo’s number?” — a polite woman’s voice. — “We’re calling from an elementary school in Malolos, Bulacan. We need Father Roberto Manalo’s signature on the transfer file for R.J. Dizon Manalo. The current guardian’s name is Alona Dizon. Can you… ask him to contact him?”

For a moment, all the surrounding sounds seemed to be sucked out of the air. I could clearly hear my heart pounding against my chest.

— “…What did you say…the child’s name was?”

—“R.J. Dizon Manalo. He’s in second grade. Thank you.”

The phone went dead. I stood frozen in the middle of the barangay hall, the words swirling around my head like black birds: R.J. — Dizon — Manalo.

Alona had gone white. She understood what I had heard. She stammered:

—“Marites…this…I was going to tell you after the annulment…R.J. is—”

—“—Whose child?”—my voice came out, as cold as the knife on the table this morning.

Roberto took a step forward, his lips trembling. For the first time since morning, he looked at me without avoiding me.

—“If you want the truth…”—he swallowed—“…then this is the final truth.”

Before he spoke, I saw the answer in the way Alona clutched the bag, in the way Roberto’s eyes drifted.

I took a deep breath, feeling like I was falling off the edge of a cliff, and then landing on the ground after an unexpected jump.

—“Tonight. Seven o’clock. At my house.” — I said slowly. —“Three people. And R.J. If we’ve lived in the dark for so long, we’ll turn on all the lights.”

Outside, the sun was filtering through the clouds, a thin blade of light sliding across the cement floor. I turned and walked away, hearing the sound of my heels tapping a decisive beat: tell me everything, then decide.

The church bell at the end of the street suddenly rang out. I didn’t know if I would forgive, leave, or choose a third path. I only knew that tonight, the small house in Quezon City would have no room for lies. And I — Marites — would be the one to ask the final question. The only difference was that this time, I wasn’t asking to keep anyone. I was asking to keep myself.