My 50-year-old husband asked for a divorce to marry his daughter’s friend, and I fulfilled his wish. But on our wedding night, I only called the girl and said one sentence before hanging up, and I knew for sure… that couple would get divorced tomorrow.

I am forty-eight years old, an ordinary woman in Manila, not too outstanding, not too ordinary. I have a husband, a child, and a home that has been peaceful for more than twenty years. I thought that when the children grew up, the two of us would live the rest of our lives together peacefully – going to the Divisoria market in the morning, drinking tea in the evening, watching old Tagalog movies. But life took a different turn.

I discovered my husband’s affair one afternoon in March.

That day, I came home early from work. When I entered the house, I saw his phone left on the kitchen table, the screen flashing with a text message:

“I miss you so much, I can’t wait to be your wife.”

The sender was Kristel. I was startled. This name is so familiar – my daughter’s best friend, who often comes over to visit, calls me “Tita”, and chatters about school.

My hands tremble. I open my phone, scrolling through a series of messages: photos, voices, sweet words. Like a bucket of cold water splashed straight into my face. Not just betrayal – but humiliation. The man I’ve been with for more than twenty years, is thinking about his own daughter’s best friend, someone thirty years younger than him.

That night, I didn’t make a fuss. I quietly set the table, watching him eat as if nothing had happened. He thought I didn’t know. But I did.

Three weeks later, he confessed. It was frighteningly calm.

– I’m sorry, I don’t have feelings for you anymore. I love someone else.

I asked directly:

– Kristel?

He was stunned. I nodded:

– I know everything. Messages, photos, everything.

He bowed his head. But instead of regretting, he said:

– You give me a divorce. I want to marry her.

I laughed coldly:– Marry?

– Yes. She agrees. Her family also agrees. You just need to sign.

I thought I would cry, would curse. But no. I simply said:

– Okay. I sign.

The news of his marriage to Kristel spread quickly throughout the neighborhood. People were surprised, many said I was foolish, letting my husband go without trying to hold on. But they didn’t understand – a fifty-year-old man, leaving his wife and children to marry his daughter’s friend – that wasn’t love. It was just an illusion.

I even sent my congratulations. Kristel replied with a heart emoji. She thought she had won. I just smiled. I didn’t need to fight. I needed to wake up.

On the wedding night, I called Kristel. Her voice was chirping, she must be in the hotel, wearing the white wedding dress I had worn more than twenty years ago. I only said one sentence:

“Do you know why he can’t live with his daughter anymore?”

Then I hung up.

That sentence was like a fire. That night Kristel couldn’t sleep. My voice echoed in her head like a curse. Not angry, not begging – but cold, calm to the point of being creepy.

Kristel looked at the man next to her – now her “husband”. He was snoring. She turned on the light, looked at the face of a man over 50, his forehead full of wrinkles, his hair streaked with gray. She tried to tell herself that she chose him “because she loves maturity”. But her heart was empty.

The dreamy days passed quickly. Ramon – no, now Roberto – didn’t know TikTok trends, didn’t listen to K-pop like she liked, didn’t understand the slang of young people. He frowned every time Kristel took a virtual photo, calling him “noisy”, “childish”. To her, he was no different from… a difficult father. But actually, he used to be her father.

I didn’t need to do anything more. Life would teach them. The infatuation with “being young again” could not last long when reality hit.

A week later, my daughter called, her voice full of anger:

– Mom! Why did you let Dad marry Kristel? Why didn’t you tell me?

I gently said:

– You knew before me. But you don’t need to stop it. It was their choice.

My daughter was silent. I understood, she was hurt. But now, she loves her mother more than her father.

Soon, Kristel moved back to her mother’s house in Cavite. Roberto was alone in his apartment in Manila. His friends laughed at him, calling him “midlife crisis”, “delusional attraction”. His daughter cut off all contact.

One morning in October, he came to me.

He sat for a long time before saying:

– You were wrong.

I nodded:

– It wasn’t wrong to marry her. Wrong is that you traded your whole family to chase after the illusion of youth.

He choked:

– Can you forgive me?

I looked at him for a long time, then stood up:

– Forgiveness is possible. But turning back is not. We are over, Roberto.

I turned and walked away, not looking back.

 

I learned to live alone. In the morning I read books at Luneta Park, in the evening I walked around the neighborhood. I learned yoga, cooked for myself. I don’t need anyone to prove my worth. I am enough for myself.

And you – the one who used to lie next to me for twenty years – are now just a faded memory. A wake-up call. I don’t hate, I don’t regret. I only know how to be grateful.

“I used to be a betrayed wife, a heartbroken mother, a wounded woman. But now, I am myself – free, belonging to no one, and waiting for no one anymore.”

Part 2: Kristel Faces the Truth

Less than two months after the wedding, Kristel packed her bags and moved back to her mother’s house in Cavite. The apartment she had dreamed of as a “home” with Roberto had suddenly turned into a nightmare. The sweet conversations of the past were now just nagging:

– “You’re too noisy.”
– “You’re glued to your phone all day.”
– “You’re young, you don’t know how to be a wife.”

With each word he uttered, Kristel felt like she was being pulled down from her dream.

But the real trouble began not in the apartment, but from the eyes of the world.

In the neighborhood, people would whisper every time Kristel went to the market. “That girl, only twenty-five, married to a fifty-year-old man. And she’s his daughter’s friend.” The rumors spread faster than the wedding. They called her nasty names: “gold digger,” “homewrecker.”

Her mother – Mrs. Teresa – was both angry and sympathetic. One evening, she couldn’t help but say:

– Kristel, I agreed to let you marry him because I thought you were mature. But now… how are you going to live? You’ve disgraced the whole family.

Kristel burst into tears, covering her face:

– I thought it was love, Mom. I thought I was special.

But the biggest nightmare came from her best friend who used to call her “sister” – Angela, Maria’s daughter.

The day they met again at a college reunion, Angela looked at Kristel without the same friendly eyes as before. She stood up straight, her voice cold:

– You used to sit in my room, eat instant noodles, and laugh all night. You used to call my mom Tita. And yet you chose to destroy my family.

Kristel trembled:

– Angela, I… I’m sorry. I…

Angela interrupted:

– Sorry? If you’re sorry, then give me back my youth. Give me back my mother’s tears.

The whole class was silent. Kristel bit her lip until it bled. She had never felt so small and guilty.

That night when she returned to Cavite, Kristel lay on her bed. Angela’s words, Maria’s words on the wedding night call, and her mother’s words… kept echoing in her head. She wondered: Did I really love Roberto, or did I just love the feeling of being worshiped by an older man?

She opened her phone, scrolling through the wedding photos. White dress, bright smile, red roses. Everything now seemed like a farce.

She deleted each photo, each message. Then burst into tears.

A week later, Kristel made an appointment to meet Maria at a coffee shop in Quezon City. When Maria walked in, she was still calm, her face not angry, not cruel – it was that calmness that made Kristel even more embarrassed.

Kristel lowered her head, whispering:

– Tita… I was wrong. I’m stupid. I don’t deserve to see Tita’s face, nor to be Angela’s friend anymore.

Maria sipped her coffee, then replied softly:

– I don’t need you to kneel down and beg for forgiveness. You just need to learn one thing: Don’t use other people’s happiness as a foundation for your illusions.

Kristel burst into tears right in the middle of the cafe, attracting everyone’s attention. But this time, she didn’t care anymore. Because in her tears, she realized: the greatest punishment was not from Maria or Angela, but from her own conscience.

Rumors spread everywhere: the marriage between Roberto and Kristel lasted less than two months. Roberto was called “matandang naloko” (a fooled old man), and Kristel was labeled “ahas”.

But for Kristel, the pain was not in what people said, but in the eyes of her former best friend who would never return.

She told herself: I have to start over from this ruin. But will anyone still believe me?