Ramon and I were married for 7 years in Quezon City. On our wedding day, I believed he was my life partner, but it turned out I was wrong. Things started to fall apart when he often came home late, his phone was password-protected, and his “best friend” Mara appeared more and more frequently.

Mara was an acquaintance from college. In everyone’s eyes, she was beautiful, smart, and good at talking. But my woman’s intuition told me that their relationship was not just a simple one. I brought it up many times, but Ramon always brushed it off, even getting angry.

One day, he said he had to go on a 15-day business trip to Palawan. I didn’t doubt it, and even told him to take care of his health. But the next day, fate took a turn: I accidentally saw a text message on his phone. That trip wasn’t for work—it was a vacation in El Nido that he and Mara had been planning for a long time.

I was stunned. But instead of making a fuss, I kept quiet. I wanted to see how much he would lie when he returned.

Those fifteen days were the longest of my life. During the day, I struggled to take care of my daughter; at night, I felt a pain that felt like it was tearing my chest apart. My child asked, “Mom, why did Dad go on a business trip for so long?” My tears just kept flowing.

The day Ramon returned, he was smiling, his skin tanned, his arms full of gifts. He even pretended to be kind: “I miss you, I miss you so much.” I sat still, my heart cold. As soon as he sat down, I looked straight into his eyes and asked:

— Do you know what disease she has?

That question was like a knife. Ramon was stunned, his face pale.

— What… what are you talking about?

I curled my lips. I knew a secret that he didn’t expect… Mara was being treated for a serious infectious disease. I accidentally learned it from a friend who worked at a large hospital in Manila. Mara had been treated many times, but kept it a secret. She still rushed into relationships regardless, and my husband—the foolish man—fell into her arms.

—I ask for the last time, do you know? — I said coldly.

Ramon fell silent. His eyes were shocked, filled with regret. He began to tremble.

A few weeks later, the truth was revealed. Ramon went to the doctor because his health was declining. The results showed the same disease that Mara had. I was not surprised, only bitter: the man who used to be my husband had ruined his own life.

Fortunately, a few months ago I had separated, feeling that the marriage was beyond saving. We were no longer as close as husband and wife; therefore, my child and I were completely safe. Perhaps that was the last protection that God gave to me and my child.

The day I received the test results, Ramon knelt before me, tears streaming down his face:

— I’m sorry… I was wrong… please don’t leave me…

I looked at him, my heart no longer beating. This man had betrayed my trust, thrown away our family’s happiness—and now, he had to bear the consequences of his own choice.

— You should apologize to our child, not me. — I replied softly, then turned and walked away.

From that day on, I no longer cared about Ramon. I poured all my love into my child, living a peaceful life in Makati, no longer afraid. Ramon was still alive, but it was a gloomy life, associated with late regret.

The question “Do you know what disease she has?” was the spark that brought the truth to light—and the end of a seemingly strong marriage. I understood that sometimes betrayal doesn’t require revenge; life itself will punish the betrayer in the most bitter way.