I married a construction worker to legalize my pregnancy. When my child was 3 years old, I trembled when I saw this in my husband’s wallet. I never expected him to be like this…
That day, I was confused when I found out I had a baby. The person I trusted the most left me, only saying “It’s up to you to decide” and then disappeared. I didn’t have the courage to do anything that would hurt the child, nor could I return to my hometown in that situation. I rented a small room in Mandaluyong, went to work by jeepney through the narrow streets, and at the most desperate moment, Lito appeared.

Lito was a construction worker at a high-rise building in Ortigas. He was gentle, honest, and had been quietly caring for me for a long time — sometimes helping me carry a bag of rice, sometimes fixing the door of my rented room that was stuck. Listening to my story, he was silent for a long time and then said:

— If you don’t mind, I’m willing to be your husband, the father of your child. I know it’s not my child, but I promise to love it like my own flesh and blood.

I nodded. No big wedding, just a small meal with the construction workers: a pot of pancit, a hastily bought lechon manok, a few cold bottles of beer. My mother in Laguna called crying all the time, but in the end, I had to accept it.

For the past three years, Lito has been the same — leaving early and coming home late, sometimes too tired to lie down on the floor to sleep. My son calls him dad, sometimes babbling “Tatay!”, and he picks him up, smiling brightly on his sunburned face. Once I asked:

— Do you regret it?

He just shook his head, stroking my hair:

— I’m happy.

That morning, I woke up early to prepare a lunch box for him to take to work — white rice, some savory adobo, and a few green mango segments. When I washed his old pants, I saw his wallet fall out. When I was about to clean it for him, a small ultrasound photo fell out. It was a photo of my son from years ago.

I trembled. Opening the wallet again, I saw a piece of paper with frayed corners and scribbled words inside…

“You are the greatest gift of my life.”

(Below, there were some neat Tagalog words: “Anak, ikaw ang pinakamalaking biyaya sa buhay ni Tatay.”)

My tears welled up. It turned out that he had always considered me as his own flesh and blood, never making any distinction. He not only “legitimized my pregnant belly,” but also spent his whole life protecting my mother and me from gossip and deprivation in the crowded Manila.

That afternoon, when Lito returned to his rented room, his shirt still covered in cement dust, I ran out and hugged him tightly. He was surprised:

— What is it?
I sobbed:
— Thank you… for coming to me and my mother.

He smiled and patted my head:
— Silly, I should be the one thanking you.

The afternoon wind from the Pasig coast blew coolly through the iron door. My heart felt light. I know, even if we didn’t start with sweet love, with a man like Lito, I wouldn’t need to dream of anything more in this life.