THE LAND THAT ALMOST BROKE US

Chapter 1 The Dream of Nine Hectares The first time I told my husband that I wanted to buy nine hectares of land, he laughed. Not because he thought I was joking. He laughed because he knew we could barely afford our monthly expenses. “Jenny, we still have unpaid bills,” Ramil said. “And you are talking about nine hectares?” “I know.” “We are not rich.” “I know that too.” “Then why are you looking at land?” I stared at the advertisement on my phone. Nine hectares in Mauban, Quezon. The price was surprisingly low compared with properties near Metro Manila. The land was surrounded by trees and mountains. It was far from the city, quiet, and untouched. Most people would have ignored it. I could not. “I think this could be our future,” I said. Ramil leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed his arms. “Our future is paying the bank on time.” I understood his concern. We had two children, household expenses, and several small debts. Our income was enough to survive, but not enough to feel secure. Still, I could not stop thinking about the property. For years, I had watched other people become wealthy through land. They bought properties when prices were low, waited patiently, and sold them when development reached the area. I wanted to do the same. Not because I wanted luxury. I wanted security. I wanted our children to have something valuable when we were gone. The seller, Crisanto Valmonte, assured me that the land was legitimate. He showed me documents, tax declarations, and an old survey plan. He explained that the property was large, peaceful, and suitable for farming or future development. The location seemed remote, but I thought that was part of its charm. “Imagine owning nine hectares,” I told Ramil one evening. “Imagine paying for nine hectares,” he replied. I knew he was afraid. So was I. But fear had never stopped me from trying to improve our lives. After several weeks of discussions, calculations, and arguments, I made my decision. I borrowed money. The amount was large enough to make my hands tremble whenever I looked at the figures. The loan would take years to repay. One mistake could affect our entire family. Ramil did not celebrate when I signed the papers. He only asked, “Are you certain about this?” I looked at the documents in front of me. “No,” I admitted. His face tightened. “But I believe this is the right opportunity,” I continued. “That is not the same thing.” “I know.” He remained silent for a long time. Then he sighed. “I hope you are right.” Those words followed me even after the purchase was completed. I had expected to feel victorious. Instead, I felt nervous. The property was now ours, but I had not yet seen every part of it. I had only visited the general area with the seller. He had pointed toward the distant hills and explained where the boundaries were supposed to be. At the time, I had been too excited to question everything. I thought the documents were enough. I thought the land would be easy to find. I thought buying property was simply a matter of signing papers and waiting for its value to increase. I was wrong. A few days after the purchase, I contacted a geodetic engineer to conduct a proper survey. The engineer asked me to send the documents first. After reviewing them, he called me. “Ma’am, we need to discuss the location.” My stomach tightened. “What about it?” “The property is not exactly where you think it is.” I sat up straight. “What do you mean?” “The coordinates in the documents lead to a more remote section of the area. We need to inspect the actual boundaries.” I looked at the papers spread across the table. “But the seller showed me the location.” “He may have shown you the general area,” the engineer replied. “That is different from identifying the exact property.” I felt a cold sensation move through my chest. “Is there a road going there?” There was a pause. “Not a proper road.” “How do we reach it?” “Possibly by boat first. Then you may have to walk.” I could not speak. I had purchased nine hectares of land that might not even be accessible by car. When Ramil came home, I told him what the engineer had said. He placed his bag on the chair and stared at me. “A boat?” “And walking.” “For how long?” “I do not know yet.” He slowly closed his eyes. “Jenny…” “I did not know.” “That is the problem.” I wanted to defend myself, but I had no answer. That night, I opened the documents again. Nine hectares. A huge piece of land. A huge loan. And possibly no road leading to it. I imagined our children asking why we had risked everything for a property hidden beyond the mountains. I imagined the bank demanding payment while the land remained useless. For the first time, the dream felt like a trap. Long after everyone had gone to sleep, I remained awake. I kept thinking about the nine hectares. The loan. The seller’s smile. The narrow path. And the question I did not want to ask myself. What if the land was not what I thought it was? I closed my eyes. “We can do this,” I whispered. But for the first time, the words sounded less like confidence. And more like a prayer.