Don Ricardo, a 70-year-old man with gray hair but still with the demeanor of a seasoned man. As the owner of the largest lumber mill in Batangas, Ricardo had no shortage of money, fame, or respect from the villagers. But there was a secret pain that he would never admit: he had never had a child.

His first wife, Doña Teresa, had lived with him for more than twenty years, but she had not been able to give him a child. She was kind and patient, but her desire to have an heir to continue the family line prompted Ricardo to do something that made the whole barrio stir: marry a young girl who had just turned 18 as his second wife.

That girl was Maria, the youngest child of a poor family in Laguna. With her smooth morena skin, sparkling black eyes, and gentle smile, Maria had been the dream of many young men in the area. But her family’s poverty forced her to accept Ricardo’s proposal, even though her heart had never been moved.

The wedding was grand, with a bustling kulintang orchestra and a lechon banquet stretching down the alley. People came to congratulate, but after the congratulations were curious glances and whispers about the huge age difference.

On the wedding night, Ricardo’s room was decorated with red lace curtains and flickering candles. He wore imported silk pajamas, unable to hide his excitement. For him, tonight was not only a wedding but also an opportunity to fulfill his dream of having children. Maria, in a thin baro’t saya, sat huddled in the corner of the bed. Her trembling hands were tightly clasped, her eyes were bewildered behind her forced smile.

Ricardo approached, his voice warm:

“Maria, from now on you are my wife. I will give you everything, as long as you give birth to a child for me.”

Maria bowed her head, nodded slightly, but her heart felt like it was being squeezed. She was not ready, but the pressure from her family and the promise to her mother made her unable to back down.

The atmosphere in the room gradually became tense, full of desire mixed with pressure. Right at the climax, when Ricardo thought the dream was right before his eyes, a loud noise rang out. The capiz window shattered, the glass shards falling with a clang. A dark figure rushed into the room.

Maria screamed loudly, quickly pulling the blanket to cover herself. Ricardo was startled, jumped up, but before he could react, the dark figure rushed forward, pressing him down on the bed. In the flickering candlelight, Ricardo recognized that it was a tall young man, his face full of anger.

“You dare to take Maria away from me!” – the man roared, his hand tightening around Ricardo’s neck.

That person was Juan, Maria’s childhood friend and first love. They grew up together in the sugarcane fields and on the riverbank in the barrio, vowing to love each other forever. But because of poverty, Maria’s family forced her to marry Ricardo. When Juan found out, he almost went crazy. Tonight, unable to bear it any longer, he decided to take back the person he loved.

Maria panicked and rushed to stop him:

“Juan, stop! You’ll kill us both!”

But Juan didn’t listen, he turned to Maria, his eyes blazing:

“Do you really want to live with this old man? Have you forgotten everything we promised each other?”

Ricard, despite being restrained, still growled:

“You brat, what do you think you can do? Maria is now my legal wife. You’re just bringing trouble upon yourself!”

Those words were like oil on fire. Juan pulled out a knife that was shining under the moonlight and raised it high.

At that moment, a scream tore through the air:

“Stop, everyone stop!”

The door to the room opened. Doña Teresa – Ricardo’s first wife – stood there, her face pale, her eyes filled with pain and hatred. No one knew that she had been secretly watching from the beginning.

She entered, her voice trembling but full of authority:
“Ricardo, do you think you can do whatever you want? You married Maria, forced her into a loveless marriage, but have you thought about anyone else’s feelings?”

Then she turned to Juan, her voice softer:
“Son, put down the knife. Violence doesn’t solve anything.”

In the tense atmosphere, Teresa blurted out a secret that had been buried for decades:
“Ricardo, you always blame me for not being able to have children. But have you ever thought about the real reason? I went to the doctor. The doctor said the problem wasn’t me, it was you. You can’t have children!”

The room was silent. Ricardo was stunned, his face pale. Maria burst into tears, realizing that she had been pushed into a meaningless marriage. Juan, tears in his eyes, dropped the knife to the floor.

He grabbed Maria’s hand, pulled her out, ignoring Ricardo’s desperate calls. Under the Batangas moonlight, the two rushed away, leaving behind a mansion full of secrets and pain.

News of the chaotic wedding night spread throughout the barrio. Ricardo, once a respected man, became the subject of gossip. Teresa, with tolerance, left home to find a new life for herself. Maria and Juan, despite facing many challenges, were determined to build a future together.

Ricardo’s story is a warning: Personal ambition, no matter how great, cannot be built on the pain of others. Love cannot be forced, and the truth, no matter how bitter, always finds a way to be exposed in the light.

Part 2: Maria and Juan’s new life – and Don Ricardo’s bitter end

Maria and Juan left Don Ricardo’s mansion on a moonlit night in Batangas. They brought no wealth, only love and empty hands. But in their hearts was a strong belief: as long as they had each other, they could overcome everything.

The first days of struggle

The two rented a small nipa hut by the river, with a tattered thatched roof, thin bamboo walls, and wind and rain seeping in everywhere. Juan applied to work as a construction worker, earning a pittance. Maria, with her skillful hands, took on sewing clothes for hire for the people in the barrio. Every day, they shared bowls of lugaw and bunches of cheap vegetables from the market.

Many times, Maria looked at her growing belly, her eyes filled with tears:

“Juan, I’m so scared… Will we be able to raise the child?”

Juan held her hand tightly, the calloused hand of a poor worker but strangely warm:

“Maria, we may be poor in money, but our child will never be poor in love. I promise.”

That promise became the strength for them to move forward.

The light of hope

The following year, Maria gave birth to a healthy baby boy. His cry echoed in the small hut like a triumphant song. Juan named his son “Gabriel” – meaning “messenger of God” – in the belief that God had brought them hope.

Despite their poverty, the couple tried to send their child to school. Juan worked hard in the sun, his back soaked with sweat, while Maria embroidered all night under the light of an oil lamp. Gradually, thanks to his diligence and reputation, Juan was hired as a master craftsman in a small wood workshop. Maria opened a sari-sari store right in front of her house. Although life was not rich, it was full of laughter and hope.

The barrio people used to gossip, but now they admire: “Maria and Juan, although poor, live together with such affection. Looking at their family warms my heart.”

Meanwhile, Don Ricardo…

After the scandalous wedding night, Ricardo lived alone in a large villa. Doña Teresa left, and the long-time servants also left one by one. The villagers who once respected him now only looked at him with pity.

He threw himself into alcohol, sitting alone on a narra wooden chair every day, his eyes lifeless. The fact that he could not have children was like a knife piercing his heart. All the money, land, and power suddenly became meaningless.

One night, he sat in front of the altar, looking at his wedding photo with Teresa and burst into tears:

“It turns out… my whole life has been an illusion.”

Time passed, old age and illness gradually drained his strength. Ricardo became paralyzed on one side after a stroke. The large mansion now had only the sound of the wind whistling through the old capiz windows. Without a wife, without children, without anyone to take care of him, he lay alone on his sickbed, regretting too late.

The Last Reunion

One day, the news of Ricardo’s impending death reached Maria’s ears. After so many years, she decided to visit him with Juan and her son.

In the cold room, Ricardo lay withered, his old eyes filled with tears when he saw Maria carrying Gabriel in. He trembled and reached out:

“Maria… is this child… yours?”

Maria nodded.

“Yes. This is my child and Juan’s. He is proof that true love can flourish, even in poverty.”

Ricardo burst into tears, choking:
“I had everything… but in the end I had nothing. I lost Teresa, lost respect, lost the chance to truly love. Maria… please forgive me.”

Maria just kept silent, bowing her head. Juan stood behind her, his eyes both pitiful and hard.

A few days later, Ricardo breathed his last, in the cold villa with no one by his side. His huge fortune was fought over by distant relatives, and his once-famous name was now just a story told as a lesson in the barrio.

A different ending

Meanwhile, in the small house by the river, children’s laughter echoed every day. Maria and Juan, although still struggling, lived a life filled with hope. Gabriel grew up in the love of his parents, becoming the pride of his family.

The story ended as a bitter contrast:

Don Ricardo – rich, powerful but died in loneliness and regret.

Maria and Juan – poor, hard-working but with sincere love, became a truly happy family.

And that is also the lesson: money can buy many things, but can never buy love and peace