2 Years After Divorce, I Saw My Ex-Husband Get Into a Road Accident But I Left Him… In Just Five Minutes, I Regretted It Completely

Two years have passed since we broke up. I thought I was finally free. The marriage I thought would last a lifetime has turned into endless shouting, arguing, and pride that no one wants to let go of. I accused him of being cold and indifferent. He blamed me for being indifferent. Six years together, capped by a signature at the Quezon City Hall of Justice, cold as two strangers.

Since then, I have closed myself off. My only support has been work. When friends invite me for drinks, I often refuse. Even when I sometimes think of the past – dinners at our small house in Quezon City, the mornings we made coffee together – I try to push everyone away. I always tell myself: “No more, we are no longer connected.”

But it seems like fate has a different plan.

One afternoon, I was on my way home from work in Makati. It was rush hour, so the traffic was heavy. While stopped at a traffic light on EDSA, suddenly someone shouted ahead:
— “Someone crashed! A woman had an accident!”

I looked up. A woman was lying on the road, her forehead bleeding, her motorcycle upside down. There were people crowding to help. My first thought was: “That’s not my problem anymore.” But in an instant, my world collapsed. That face — hers. Marites, my ex-wife.

Her hair was messy, her body was shaking, there was a trace of pain and fear in her eyes. I felt like I was frozen. Suddenly, memories came flooding back: her laughter whenever I joked, her small hands that often held me when we were having a hard time, the nights we ate simple adobo together but full of family warmth.

I gripped the steering wheel tightly. There’s a voice in my brain….

The light turned green. I started the car. In the rearview mirror, I saw her surrounded by people. My chest tightened, but I forced myself to believe: “You two are no longer related. Not anymore.”

But only five minutes had passed, and I felt a twinge of guilt. I didn’t know how, but I was surprised to notice that I was in front of St. Luke’s Medical Center. It was as if I had automatically gone there. I stopped, my hands shaking.

“What if she’s seriously injured? What if she needs me right now? Why am I being so impersonal?”

I didn’t hesitate any longer. I immediately returned to the scene. But when I arrived, she was gone. Someone said: “The woman has been rushed to the hospital.”

I quickly drove the car back to the hospital. As I entered the emergency room, I immediately smelled the strong odor of alcohol and drugs. I looked for her and there I found her — lying down, wrapped in a white bandage on her head, her face pale, all alone. No family, no companion.

I stopped at the door. It felt like something was blocking my feet. But I remembered the times she took care of me when I had a fever, how she wiped my sweat. My eyes watered.

I approached, I softly said:
— “Marites…”

She slowly opened her eyes. She was surprised, but not angry, but with a mixture of tiredness and a little heat.
— “You? Why are you here?”

I couldn’t help it, I whispered:
— “I’m sorry… I saw you earlier, but… I left you. I regret it.”

She smiled weakly, bitterly:
— “It’s okay… We don’t have any connection anymore now.”

My heart felt like it had been cut. I sat down next to him, holding his cold hand:
— “But for me, you are still important. Maybe I don’t have the right to call you my wife anymore… but I can’t let you be hurt like this.”

He didn’t answer, but I saw tears forming in the corner of his eye.

The doctor came, examined him, and said he was safe, he just needed to rest. Only then did I breathe a sigh of relief.

It was night, I didn’t leave. I bought porridge at the canteen, I carefully wiped the dried blood from the side of his face. He was silent, but his eyes, were no longer as cold as before.

And in the silence of that night, a bitter truth pinched me: why did I have to wait for something like this to happen to admit that I still loved him?

For two years, I thought it was all over. But tonight, I realized — love, it doesn’t really disappear. It’s just covered up by pride and the wounds of the past.

And there, I silently thanked fate. Even though the path was painful, it still gave me the chance to recover.