On the night of our wedding, the moment I saw my husband’s lower body, I trembled as I understood the reason why his family had given me a 40-million-peso lakeside villa in exchange for marrying a poor maid like me…

My name is Maria, twenty-six years old, born into a poor family in the sunny, windy countryside of Central Philippines. My father died young, my mother was sick, and I had to quit school in 10th grade to work and earn money. After years of hardship, I finally found a job as a housemaid in one of the wealthiest families in Quezon City – the Santos family.

My husband, Gabriel Santos, was the only son of that family. Handsome, educated, calm – but always carrying an invisible distance from everyone. I had worked there for nearly three years, used to bowing my head in silence, never daring to think I could step into their world. But one day, my employer called me into the living room, laid out a marriage certificate in front of me, and made a promise:

“Maria, if you agree to marry Gabriel, this lakeside villa in Tagaytay will be under your name. A wedding gift from the family.”

I was stunned. How could a poor maid like me compare to their beloved only son? I thought it was a joke, but when I looked into his serious eyes, I realized it was true. I didn’t know why they had chosen me, but my mother was gravely ill, and her monthly medical expenses were an unbearable burden. My mind told me to refuse, but my weak heart nodded in silence.

The wedding day was grander than anything I had ever dared to dream of. Dressed in pure white, seated beside Gabriel, it still felt like a dream. But his gaze was cold and distant, as if he carried a secret in his heart that I could never touch.

On our wedding night, I entered the rose-filled bedroom trembling. Gabriel sat there in a white shirt, his face as handsome as a sculpture, but his eyes sorrowful and silent. As he approached, my body shook uncontrollably. And then, the cruel truth was revealed.

Gabriel was not like other men… To my shock, I realized he had been born with a congenital defect – something that prevented him from fulfilling the duties of a husband. In that moment, my world collapsed. Everything became clear: the reason they gave me the villa, the reason why a poor maid like me was allowed into their wealthy family, was not because I was special, but because… they needed a “nominal” wife for Gabriel.

Tears fell, though I couldn’t tell whether it was out of pity for him or for myself. Gabriel quietly sat beside me, his voice soft:

“I’m sorry, Maria. You don’t deserve this. I know you’ve sacrificed too much, but my mother… she needs me to have a family, needs a wife at my side to make her feel at peace. I can’t give her what she wants.”

In the warm yellow light, I saw his eyes glisten with tears. So this cold man also bore a deep wound. He was no different from me – both of us victims of fate.

In the days that followed, our life was unusual. There was no sweetness of a normal marriage, only respect and sharing. Gabriel was kind to me: every morning he asked how I was, every afternoon he took me walking by the lake, every evening we dined together. He never treated me as the maid I once was, but as a companion. My heart was touched, yet my mind reminded me that we could never have a perfect marriage.

One day, I accidentally overheard Mrs. Santos confiding to her doctor: she had heart disease and little time left. She feared that once she died, Gabriel would be lonely forever. She chose me because she saw that I was gentle, hardworking, and above all, not ambitious. She believed I would stay by Gabriel’s side, not abandon him because of his condition.

When I learned the truth, my heart was torn. I thought I was just a “substitute” in exchange for a villa, but in fact, I had been chosen for love and trust. From that day on, I decided: no matter what this marriage turned into, I would never leave Gabriel.

One rainy night, Gabriel suddenly collapsed in pain. Panicked, I rushed him to a hospital in Manila. In his unconscious state, he gripped my hand tightly and whispered:

“If one day you feel tired, just leave. Think of the villa as your payment. I don’t want you to suffer because of me…”

I broke into tears. When had this man captured my heart? I squeezed his hand and whispered:

“No matter what happens, I won’t leave. You are my husband, my family.”

After the crisis, Gabriel woke up. Seeing me still there, his eyes filled with tears, but his gaze was warm. We didn’t need a “perfect marriage” in the usual sense. What we had was understanding, companionship, and a quiet but enduring love.

The Tagaytay lakeside villa was no longer a “reward,” but a true home. I planted flowers on the balcony, Gabriel painted in the living room. Each night, we listened to the rain together, sharing with each other our simplest dreams.

Perhaps happiness is not about perfection, but about finding someone who, despite his flaws, still chooses to love, still chooses to stay. And I found that happiness – on that trembling wedding night.