I am Maria, a 28-year-old young wife living in a small apartment in the suburbs of Quezon City. My marriage with Ramon – my husband – started with passionate love since college, but gradually, cracks appeared. Ramon is a construction engineer, with a high salary but incredibly stingy. He always calculates every penny, from groceries to birthday gifts. As for me, I work as a bank employee, with a stable income but always have to “report” every expense.

The conflict between us is not loud arguments, but a suffocating silence, where Ramon always puts money first, while I consider family everything.

My mother – Mrs. Dolores, lives in Batangas, alone after my father passed away. She has a heart condition and needs monthly medical expenses. I often secretly send her money, because if Ramon finds out, he will be angry. “You always send money to your mother, but what about your family? Your brothers and sisters in the province are also having a hard time!” Ramon often said that, even though he sent money to his mother-in-law regularly without asking me. I swallowed my tears, thinking that marriage was about patience. But this time, everything changed.

That afternoon, I withdrew ₱50,000 from our joint savings account – the money we had saved for our house purchase plan. I knew Ramon would be angry, but my mother needed urgent surgery. She called crying:

“Maria, I can’t take it anymore. The doctor said I have to have surgery, or else…”

I didn’t hesitate, and made an appointment to meet my mother at a small coffee shop near our house, sneaking around like a thief. When I handed her the stack of money, my hands were shaking:

“Take this, Mom, focus on your treatment. I’ll explain to Ramon later.”

Dolores held my hand, her eyes red:
“You’ve suffered because of me.”

But before I could say anything more, Ramon stormed into the shop. His face was red, his eyes were bulging:

“Maria! What are you doing? That’s our money!”

It turned out that he had been following me from home, suspicious because he saw me withdrawing money. He snatched the stack of money from my mother’s hand, shouting:

“Go back to Batangas, don’t take advantage of your daughter anymore! This money is mine, my family’s!”

My mother was stunned, tears streaming down her face, and I was speechless. Everyone in the shop looked at us, whispering. I tried to pull him back:
“Brother, let me explain. Mom needs money for a heart operation…”

But Ramon didn’t listen, he pushed me away:
“Explain what? I always think about my mom, but what about you? You betrayed me!”

He left, leaving my mother trembling.

That night, when we got home, the conflict exploded. Ramon banged on the table:
“Do you think I’m stupid? ₱50,000! You gave it all to your mother, how can we live? You’re so selfish, Maria!”

I cried:
“You’re the selfish one! My mother is seriously ill, don’t you care? That money is shared, but human life is more important!”

Ramon sneered:
“Human life? She’s old, how long will she live? And we’re young, we have to worry about the future!”

That sentence was like a knife cutting into my heart. We argued all night, Ramon asked for a divorce, and I decided to leave if he didn’t change.

The next morning, Ramon was still angry, took the stack of money to work, said he would deposit it in the bank. I stayed home, called my mother, and comforted her. But late in the afternoon, Ramon came home with a pale face, holding the stack of money in his hand, kneeling before me:
“Maria, I was wrong. I… I’m sorry.”

I was surprised:
“What’s wrong with you?”

Ramon said, his voice trembling:

“I brought the money to the bank, but the staff checked… it turned out, the money was fake. All fake money!”

I was stunned. Fake money? I withdrew it from a real account!

It turned out that the ₱50,000 I withdrew was not from the joint account, but from something Ramon had secretly hidden. Last month, he had received a bribe from a construction project – 50 thousand pesos in “lagay” money from a contractor. He hid it from me, replacing the real money in the account with fake money to cover his tracks. When I withdrew it, I was actually withdrawing fake money that he had prepared.

Ramon thought I wouldn’t find out, but when he brought it to the bank, the staff found out right away. He was almost arrested, but luckily he was only warned for “ignorance”.

The truth humiliated Ramon. He – the one who always preached about money and responsibility – was greedy and took bribes. And I – the one he scolded for being selfish – had unwittingly “saved” him from jail by taking the fake money for my mother.

If I hadn’t withdrawn it, he would have continued to hide it and used it for bad purposes.

When my mother heard about it, she just smiled sadly:

“Okay, my child, let me take care of it. I still have a piece of land in Batangas, selling it will be enough for the surgery.”

It turned out that she had hidden her personal assets from me.

The conflict between Ramon and I was not just about money, but about lies. Ramon knelt down to apologize, promised to change, and return the bribe. I forgave him, but our trust was broken.

We started over, but I knew that the pile of money had changed everything. Now, every time Ramon looked at the money, he remembered the humiliation, and learned to appreciate his family more.

From then on, Ramon became a model husband, sending money to my mother regularly. As for me, I learned that the truth is sometimes painful, but it is the key to liberation.

Life is like a pile of money – beautiful on the outside, but fake on the inside. And the biggest twist is, Ramon’s greed defeated him.

Maria’s Turn

After the day Ramon knelt in the apartment in Quezon City, I – Maria – suddenly felt my heart split into two halves. One half wanted to forgive, to keep the home that had been built for many years. The other half urged me to let go, because the crack in trust had become too deep.

Ramon really changed. He cooked more, rarely hung out with friends, and took me to Batangas to visit my mother on the weekends. He even regularly sent money to help with medical expenses. But every time I looked at him, I remembered that night in the coffee shop – where he yelled at my mother, considering her life worthless.

My mother – Mrs. Dolores – gradually recovered after her heart surgery. One day, when I was sitting by her hospital bed, she gently said:

“Daughter, I don’t want your life to be tied to a man who values ​​money more than love. It’s your right to forgive or leave, don’t sacrifice yourself for me.”

My mother’s words were like a knife piercing my heart. I don’t know if I was afraid of losing my husband, or just afraid of losing all the hard work I had put into building my family.

Then an unexpected incident happened. The construction company where Ramon worked opened a major investigation into corruption. Ramon’s name was not mentioned, but his colleagues who had “shared” the money were arrested. The news made me shudder: If I hadn’t mistakenly withdrawn the fake money that day, would Ramon have been dragged into legal trouble by now?

That night, Ramon came home, sat down on the chair, and held his head:

“Maria… I was so scared. Just one more step, and I would have lost everything. If it weren’t for you, I would have gone to jail.”

He cried. I had never seen Ramon cry like that. But in my heart, his tears could not erase the screams he had once unleashed at my mother.

A week later, I decided to go to Subic beach alone, to find some peace. I sat watching the waves, thinking about the journey of marriage. I remember my college days, Ramon was the guy who dared to skip an exam to take me to the hospital when I had a fever. But I also remember the current Ramon, who is willing to say: “Human life? She is old, how long will she live?”

I wonder: can love save greed? Can trust be mended after it is torn?

When I returned to Manila, I told Ramon:

“I will stay… but not to continue like before. I want us to start from zero. If you still hide it, if you still look down on my mother or my family, I will leave immediately.”

Ramon held my hand, choking:

“I promise. Give me another chance.”

I don’t know if that decision was right. I chose to forgive, but forgiving does not mean forgetting. Every day, I still live with Ramon, still see his efforts, but there is always a crack in my heart.

I understand that marriage is like a broken mirror: it can be fixed, but the crack will never disappear. I accept to try again – for love, for memories, and also because I want to believe that a man, even if he has lost his way, can still come back.

But deep down, I am also prepared… for the day I let go forever