On the day of the engagement, as soon as I saw the shoes of my future mother-in-law, I quickly informed my biological mother and immediately canceled the engagement…
That morning, I woke up very early. Today was the pamamanhikan day – the engagement ceremony of me and Miguel – the man I had loved for three years. Everything had been carefully prepared in advance: the pure white dress, the carefully placed tray of gifts, fresh flowers all over the house. I was both nervous and happy, thinking that this would be the turning point that opened a new life.

At about 9 o’clock, the car horn sounded in front of the gate. I hurried out with my mother to welcome the groom’s family. From afar, I saw Miguel getting out, holding a large bouquet of flowers. But when my eyes just glanced at the feet of the woman walking next to him – his mother – I suddenly stopped.

Those shoes… I have never forgotten. They were plum-red high heels, with a small scratch on the left heel. More than ten years ago, I saw these shoes in one of the most bitter memories of my life.

When I was 12 years old, my father left home because of an affair. The woman who was with him that day left a clear image in my mind: curly hair, beige dress… and those plum-red shoes. That day, I went to the market in Quezon with my mother and saw them holding hands and walking into a coffee shop. My mother stood there, stunned, and I cried bitterly. After that, my family fell apart.

And now, on my big day, those shoes appeared again – on the feet of my future mother-in-law.

I tried to calm down, telling myself that maybe I was wrong. But when she got closer, that smile, that look… everything was exactly the same. The faint scent of perfume was also terrifyingly familiar. My heart was pounding, and my palms were cold.

The ceremony began. Relatives from both sides chatted happily, while I remained silent. In my mind, the image of my mother’s miserable years, working and raising me, shouldering everything by herself, kept appearing.

I gently pulled my mother to a corner of the kitchen.

– Ma… sa tingin ko hindi ko kayang ituloy ito.

My mother’s eyes widened:

– Anak, ano ba ang sinasabi mo? Ngayon araw ng pamamanhikan, kalma ka muna.

I choked up:

– Do you remember the woman who went with my father the other day when our family broke up? I just saw her… she was Miguel’s mother.

My mother was stunned, her eyes filled with tears. After a long while, she nodded slightly:

– Oo, nakita ko rin. Pagpasok pa lang niya, naalala ko na agad.

We looked at each other, not saying another word. We both understood that this marriage, if it continued, would be like a knife wound twisting into the painful past. I don’t want to remember my broken family every time I see my mother-in-law. I can’t let my mother continue to endure the presence of the person who destroyed her happiness.

I returned to the living room, giving Miguel a faint smile.

– Miguel, I’m sorry… but I don’t think I can continue the ceremony today.

He was surprised:
– Ano? Bakit?

I looked straight into his eyes:
– Your mother… is the one who broke my family. I can’t get over that.

The atmosphere suddenly became heavy. His mother turned pale, and he looked at me with a look of both pain and incomprehension. I knew that saying this would make everything collapse, but it was better to be hurt once than to suffer for the rest of my life.

I bowed to the groom’s relatives, then led my mother out of the living room. Outside the gate, the wind from Manila Bay blew strongly, I took a deep breath. Even though my heart was aching, I still felt relieved that I had made the right choice.

A few days later, Miguel texted me, saying he was sorry but respected my decision. He also apologized on behalf of my mother, but I just replied: “It’s not my fault, we just can’t be together.”

Life returned to normal. My mother said:
– Anak, ginawa mo ang tamang desisyon. Walang sinuman ang karapat-dapat kapalit ng kapayapaan ng loob mo.

I smiled. Marriage is not just about two people, but also the interweaving of two families. And I understood that there are pasts that cannot be erased, and should not be overcome by reluctance.

That pamamanhikan day ended quickly, but it opened up a clear realization for me: true happiness does not lie in marrying someone, but in being able to live peacefully, without the darkness of the past covering the future.