I Followed My Husband to Quiapo Because I Thought He Had a Mistress—But the Truth He Was Hiding Was Much Deeper Than Love/th

It was a hot afternoon when uneasiness started to creep in. For the past two months, my husband Marco had changed. He always had an excuse to come home late, always carrying a bag he never let me see.

I would ask, but his reply was always the same:
“This is just work, Liza. Don’t think too much about it.”

But as his wife, I knew something was wrong. My suspicions grew stronger the other night when I smelled an unfamiliar perfume on his polo—clearly a woman’s fragrance, and definitely not mine.

I couldn’t bear it anymore. I decided I had to follow him.

On Friday night, he told me he had an “overtime meeting.” Quietly, I tailed the jeepney he rode. My chest felt heavy as I watched him head toward the busy streets of Quiapo.

And then I saw her—waiting under the footbridge. A young, fair, beautiful woman. She smiled the moment she saw Marco, and he handed her the bag he had been carrying.

My world shattered. Oh God, he really had a mistress.

From a distance, I could see them talking. My heart sank further as they walked into a small eatery together. They ordered food, laughing like they were lovers.

I clutched my bag tightly. I knew I had to confront him.