That night at dinner in our house in Quezon City, the whole family gathered around the table. I – Maricel – had just put the bowl of tinola on the table when my mother-in-law, Aling Teresa, suddenly spoke up, her voice fierce:

“Ramon’s family is getting married soon, give him 300,000 pesos so he can buy a house.”

The whole table was silent. I was stunned, my chopsticks stopped in mid-air. My husband – Joseph – also looked up at my mother, but did not dare to say anything.

I tried to stay calm:

“Nanay, my husband and I still have a small child to raise, and we just borrowed money to buy a condo. I don’t have that much money…”

Before I could finish my sentence, “slap!” – my mother-in-law slapped me straight in the face, making the bowl of soup in front of me ripple. She growled:

“Your money is also the money of this house. If you don’t give it to me, don’t blame me for being heartless!”

I choked up. Joseph just bowed his head, silent as if he had seen nothing. His brother-in-law – Ramon – even raised his chin defiantly:

“Ate Maricel makes money, lending it to me is no big deal.”

Tears welled up in my eyes. The whole meal became stifling and bitter. I suddenly realized that, in all the years of being a daughter-in-law, I had never once been considered a child in this family. All my sacrifices and savings were like dust.

That night, I quietly packed a few sets of clothes, took my daughter and went back to my parents’ house in Bulacan. I did not say goodbye, nor did I need to explain. The phone rang continuously, but I turned it off. From that moment, I decided: to disappear from their lives.

In the following months, I worked and studied to expand my career. Thanks to my solid expertise, I was recruited by a large company in Makati, with a salary three times higher than before. I saved every penny and bought a small apartment for the two of us.

As time passed, the pain gradually healed. My daughter grew up in the love of her mother and grandparents. I became strong, independent, and no longer the weak woman of the past.

Five years later, a work opportunity brought me back to Manila. I decided to take my daughter to visit my husband’s house, the place that had imprinted bitter memories.

The day I appeared at the gate, the whole family was stunned. Aling Teresa was much older, her eyes looking at me and the tall, pretty girl in surprise. Ramon was haggard, I heard his job was unstable, and he was in debt.

Joseph walked out, confused as if he couldn’t believe it. He was thin, his eyes were blank. Over the years, he probably wasn’t happy living under his mother’s pressure.

I smiled calmly:

“I only brought my grandchild back to meet my grandparents. After all, blood relations cannot be denied.”

The whole family was silent, no one dared to mention the 300,000 pesos of the past. Aling Teresa’s eyes slightly drooped, her trembling hands placed on her grandson’s shoulders. Perhaps she understood that because of her greed and harshness, she had lost a daughter-in-law who had devoted herself to her family.

I did not blame her, nor did I want to dig up the past. I had a new life – peaceful, independent and full of hope. That day, I left with relief, leaving behind the regretful eyes of my husband’s family.

They had lost me – a daughter-in-law whose true value, perhaps, they had only realized until now.

After meeting Maricel and her daughter again, Joseph’s mind was in turmoil. For many years, he bowed his head under his mother’s control, letting his wife endure all the humiliation. Only when Maricel left did he understand the price of silence: losing the only woman who had sacrificed everything for him.

He began to change. Joseph moved out, rented a small room in Tondo, and managed his own work. Without Maricel’s presence, he learned to wash his own clothes, cook his own meals, and face his loneliness. In his heart, he carried a heavy regret:

“If only I had stood up to protect my wife that day, this wouldn’t have happened…”

As for Aling Teresa, she gradually aged and became weak. The spacious house that was once bustling with people was now desolate. Ramon, the son she once cherished, had fallen into debt. She suddenly realized: the person she had despised and treated cruelly – Maricel – was the one who had struggled to bring stability to the family for many years.

One afternoon, when she saw the neighborhood children chattering with their grandmother, Aling Teresa quietly cried. She sobbed:

“Kung hindi ko pinairal ang kasakiman, baka ngayon may kasama akong apo at manugang na tunay na nagmamahal.”

Meanwhile, Maricel and her daughter lived peacefully in Makati. Their small apartment was filled with laughter. Her job was getting better and better, she not only raised her children well but also sent money to support her biological parents in Bulacan.

Her daughter, Samantha, grew up smart and polite. Whenever she heard her friends talk about lola at lolo (grandparents), Samantha often wondered:
—“Mama, bakit wala tayong lola at lolo?”

Maricel just smiled and patted her head:
—“May lolo at lola ka, anak. Pero sometimes, hindi lahat ng pamilya ay alam kung paano magmahal nang tama.”

A year later, Maricel received news that Aling Teresa had fallen seriously ill. After many nights of thinking, she decided to bring Samantha to visit.

In the old room, Aling Teresa lay on the bed, thin, her eyes filled with tears. When she saw Maricel and her granddaughter, she burst into tears, tremblingly holding their hands:
—“Maricel, patawarin mo ako… Sana bago ako mamatay, makita kong napatawad mo ako.”

Maricel sighed softly. In her heart, the old wound had not healed, but before her eyes was an old and weak person, with nothing but regret. She placed her hand on her grandmother’s hand, and whispered:
—“Nanay, I no longer blame. My daughter needs to learn to forgive, so that she does not carry hatred in her heart.”

Samantha smiled innocently, calling softly:
—“Lola…”

That call made Aling Teresa’s eyes light up for the last time, before closing forever.

On the day of the funeral, Joseph and Ramon were both present, silently bowing their heads. Maricel stood by, no longer the humiliated daughter-in-law of the past, but a strong, independent woman who knew her own worth.

The story of that meal and the fateful slap was repeated as a lesson to them: if a family does not know how to cherish, one day they will lose the person they should hold on to the most.