The Love I Never Expected

Chapter 3 — When My Family Warned Me

When I arrived home that evening, my father was sitting in the living room.

It was already around eight o'clock.

I was tired from work and wanted to go straight to my room, but the moment my father saw me, he asked,

“Who was the man who brought you home?”

I stopped.

I knew he was talking about Jason.

Someone must have seen us.

I didn't answer.

My father looked at me seriously.

“I heard that a man brought you home. Who is he?”

I lowered my eyes.

He sighed.

“If a man is serious about a woman, he should respect her parents. He should come to the house and introduce himself properly. He shouldn't always be courting you somewhere outside.”

I remained silent.

I knew my father was only trying to protect me, but I wasn't ready to explain anything.

“I'm tired, Pa. I'm going to my room.”

I walked away before he could ask another question.

Inside my room, I lay on my bed and stared at the ceiling.

His words stayed in my mind.

If a man is serious about you, he should come to the house.

But I pushed the thought away.

I loved Jason.

Or at least, I believed I did.

The next morning was Sunday.

I woke up around six, made myself some coffee, and took a shower. Jason and I had planned to go to church together before I went to work.

After getting ready, I went to my father.

“Pa, I'm leaving. I'm going to church before I go to work.”

“Okay. Be careful.”

My mother was already at the market selling fish.

When I stepped outside, I saw Jason waiting at the corner near our house.

“Good morning,” he said with a smile.

“Good morning.”

He reached for my bag.

“Give it to me. I'll carry it.”

I smiled and handed it to him.

At that moment, I felt special.

I didn't know that someday I would look back on those little moments differently.

Months passed, and eventually, my twenty-second birthday came.

I celebrated at our house with some of my close friends.

There was food, laughter, and stories. Jason was there too.

That day, I finally introduced him properly to my parents.

“This is Jason,” I said.

Jason greeted them politely.

“Good afternoon, Sir. Ma'am.”

My father simply nodded, while my mother gave him a polite smile.

I was happy.

I thought maybe this would help my parents accept him.

Three of my friends—Rochelle, Analyn, and Dona—stayed overnight at our house.

The next morning, they woke up early because they had work. I was off that day.

After they left, my parents called me.

“We need to talk,” my father said.

I sat down.

“About what?”

“About Jason.”

My heart sank.

My father looked at my mother before speaking.

“We don't like him.”

I was surprised.

“Why?”

My mother spoke softly.

“There's something about him that doesn't feel right.”

My father nodded.

“I don't know how to explain it, but I don't have a good feeling about that man.”

I became defensive.

“But he hasn't done anything to you.”

My father looked at me.

“Are you sure?”

I didn't answer.

He continued,

“You have many men who are interested in you. Why him?”

His words hurt.

“Pa…”

“I'm not saying he's definitely a bad person,” he said. “But I feel like he's hiding something.”

I felt tears in my eyes.

I thought they were judging Jason because of his appearance and his situation.

They didn't understand what I saw in him.

They didn't know the man who brought me food, carried my bag, and made me feel special.

So I chose to follow my heart.

I chose Jason instead of listening to my parents.

Eventually, my parents had no choice but to accept our relationship.

Or at least, they tried.

The next day at work, Jason asked me,

“What did your parents say about me?”

I avoided his eyes.

“Nothing.”

He looked at me.

“Are you sure?”

I forced a smile.

“Let's not talk about it.”

I changed the subject, and he eventually stopped asking.

At that time, I thought everything would be fine.

I was wrong.

Not long after that, Jason suddenly lost his job.

At first, I tried to understand.

“Don't worry,” I told him. “You'll find another job.”

But without work, money quickly became a problem.

My parents started noticing that Jason was depending on our family.

Sometimes, it felt like we were the ones feeding him.

They became more upset with him as the days passed.

Then one night, Jason was forced to leave his apartment because he could no longer pay the rent.

He had nowhere to go.

So he slept outside near our house.

The next morning, around six, he would come inside our house just to rest.

He didn't want the neighbors to gossip about us.

But my parents noticed.

They were becoming angrier every day.

Still, I defended him.

I kept telling myself that he was only going through a difficult time.

I believed things would eventually get better.

But instead, our relationship became more difficult.

We started fighting almost every day.

Sometimes it was about money.

Sometimes it was about small things.

His temper became worse, and his voice became louder whenever he was angry.

One night, I waited for him at home.

Nine o'clock came.

He wasn't there.

I waited until ten.

Still nothing.

Eleven o'clock.

Still no Jason.

By midnight, I was exhausted from waiting and crying.

Around one in the morning, someone knocked on our door.

My father opened it.

I had already fallen asleep from exhaustion when my father came into my room.

“Wake up. Jason is outside.”

I immediately got up.

When I saw him, I asked,

“Why are you only coming now?”

He looked tired.

“I didn't have money for transportation.”

I stared at him.

“You couldn't even tell me?”

He didn't answer.

I was angry, but I forgave him.

Again.

Because I loved him.

The following day, Jason was supposed to pick me up from work.

I waited.

The hours passed.

By eleven at night, he still hadn't arrived.

I finally called my father.

“Pa, can you please pick me up?”

My father came.

We arrived home around 12:30 in the morning.

Then, around two o'clock, Jason finally arrived.

“I walked all the way from your workplace to here,” he told me.

I looked at him.

But something felt wrong.

I could smell alcohol on him.

I didn't know whether to believe him or be angry.

In the end, I said nothing.

Our relationship continued that way.

Arguments.

Apologies.

Promises.

Then another argument.

One day, during a fight, Jason suddenly grabbed my arm.

I froze.

“Why did you do that?”

I started crying.

He immediately apologized.

“I'm sorry. I lost control.”

I wanted to believe him.

He told me that he was only overwhelmed by everything happening in his life.

And because I loved him, I forgave him.

I told myself it was only one mistake.

I thought it would never happen again.

But the next day, we fought again.

He was frustrated because he still didn't have stable work.

Our argument became louder.

Then suddenly—

He slapped me.

For a moment, I couldn't move.

I touched my cheek as tears filled my eyes.

That was the first time he had ever raised his hand against me.

I was hurt.

I was scared.

But most of all, I was confused.

I wanted to tell my parents.

But I didn't.

I knew what they would do if they found out.

They would tell me to leave him.

They would separate us.

And I wasn't ready.

I still loved him.

That was the hardest part.

I knew what he had done was wrong, but my heart still wanted to believe that he could change.

So I kept the truth from my parents.

After that, Jason sometimes disappeared.

There were days when he wouldn't come to our house.

And I would wait.

I waited for his messages.

I waited for a knock on the door.

I waited for him to come back.

One week passed without him visiting me.

I kept wondering what had happened.

Did I do something wrong?

Was he angry with me?

Would he come back?

One evening, I couldn't hold my tears anymore.

I sat beside my father and cried.

“Pa…”

He looked at me.

“What happened?”

I wiped my tears.

“Why is Jason like this?”

My father became quiet.

“I don't know.”

He couldn't answer me because he didn't know the truth.

He didn't know about our arguments.

He didn't know Jason had grabbed me.

He didn't know about the slap.

All he knew was that his daughter was hurting.

I looked down.

“Did I do something wrong?”

My father shook his head.

“No. Don't blame yourself for everything.”

His words made me cry even harder.

I wanted to tell him everything.

I wanted to tell him what Jason had done.

But I was afraid.

So I kept the secret inside me.

For an entire week, I waited for Jason.

I wondered if he missed me.

I wondered if he was angry.

I wondered if he would ever come back.

And even after everything he had done, a part of me was still waiting.

Waiting for him to return.

Waiting for an apology.

Waiting for him to become the man I thought he was.

I didn't know it then, but I was slowly losing myself while trying to hold on to someone who was already slipping away.

And that was when I began to understand something painful:

Sometimes, loving someone isn't enough to make them treat you right.