MY FAKE HUSBAND

CHAPTER 7: THE PRICE OF STARTING OVER

I woke up before sunrise the next morning.

Outside, a tricycle passed along the road, a dog barked in the distance, and a vendor called out as he began his morning rounds.

It was an ordinary morning, but for me, it was the beginning of something new.

I prepared for my meeting with Aling Nena's sister, wearing one of my simplest dresses and checking the small amount of money inside my wallet.

It wasn't much, but I reminded myself that I wasn't going there to ask for sympathy. I was going to ask for an opportunity.

Before leaving, I prepared breakfast for my daughters.

"Where are you going, Mama?" my youngest asked.

"To find some work, sweetheart."

"Will you come back?"

I kissed her forehead. "Of course. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Then I stepped outside, determined to find a way to support my children.

The food stall stood along a busy street, filled with the smell of freshly cooked rice and fried eggs. Customers hurried in and out, buying breakfast before heading to work.

Aling Mercy greeted me when I arrived.

"So you're the one Nena told me about," she said.

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you for giving me a chance."

"Have you worked in a food stall before?"

"Not exactly, but I know how to cook, clean, and prepare food. I'm willing to learn."

She pointed toward a table covered with dishes.

"All right. Let's see what you can do."

I immediately began working. I washed plates, cleaned tables, packed orders, and helped prepare simple meals. My feet ached, but I continued because I knew how much my family needed the money.

When the morning rush ended, Aling Mercy handed me my payment.

"This is for today's work. Come back tomorrow if you're interested in a regular schedule."

I looked at the money in my hand. It wasn't enough to change my life overnight, but I had earned it through my own effort.

"Thank you, ma'am."

She smiled. "Work hard, but take care of yourself, especially now."

I nodded gratefully.

For the first time in weeks, I returned home carrying something more than fear.

I carried hope.

When I arrived, Rod was sitting in the living room.

"Where have you been?" he asked.

"I went to work."

His eyebrows rose. "What kind of work?"

"Aling Mercy needed help at her food stall. She gave me a chance to earn some money."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

I looked at him in surprise.

"I told you I needed to find a way to support my children."

"I thought you were just upset."

A sad smile crossed my face.

Even after everything that had happened, Rod seemed to believe I would eventually forgive him and return to the life we had shared.

But I could no longer wait for him to decide what my future should look like.

"I wasn't just upset, Rod. I meant what I said."

He stood and approached me.

"You don't need to work in a place like that. I'll give you money."

"Will you?"

"Of course."

"Then why did I have to worry about supporting my children in the first place?"

He fell silent.

"I'm not refusing help," I continued. "But I can't build my future around money you might give me whenever you feel like it. I need something I can depend on."

"So now you think I'm irresponsible?"

"I think I need to prepare for my children's future."

I was tired of explaining every decision as though I needed his permission.

Working wasn't about humiliating him. It was about making sure my children wouldn't have to depend entirely on someone whose promises I could no longer trust.

For once, I didn't wait for him to understand.

That evening, I counted my earnings and divided them into small amounts for food, transportation, savings, and baby supplies.

The money was limited, and I knew I would need more work. I also had to be careful because of my pregnancy.

Still, I felt proud of what I had accomplished.

I placed the money in a small envelope and wrote the date on it.

It was a small beginning, but it belonged to the life I was trying to build.

I would continue working as long as it was safe, save what I could, and ask for help when necessary. Accepting assistance would never mean surrendering my right to make decisions for myself.

I had a long road ahead, but at least I had begun walking it.

The following afternoon, something unexpected happened.

My eldest daughter approached me while I was preparing vegetables.

"Mama, someone came looking for Rod."

My hands stopped moving.

"Who was it?"

"A woman. She asked if Rod was here, but he wasn't. She left this for him."

She handed me a folded piece of paper.

My fingers trembled as I opened it.

We need to talk about our family. You cannot keep avoiding this forever.

There was no name, but I immediately thought of Rod's wife.

I sat down slowly.

I had seen her photograph and learned that she had a family with Rod. Yet this message made the situation painfully real.

She wasn't just a woman in a photograph. She was someone whose life had also been affected by Rod's choices.

And she might not even know about me.

I wondered whether she knew he had promised to marry another woman. I wondered whether she knew I was carrying his child.

I couldn't imagine how she would react if she learned the truth.

But one thing was certain: Rod's secret no longer affected only the two of us.

His lies had consequences for everyone involved.

That evening, Rod returned home.

I was waiting in the living room with the message on the table.

He noticed it immediately.

"What's that?"

"Someone came looking for you."

He picked up the paper and read it. His expression changed.

"Who gave you this?"

"A woman came this afternoon. She left it with my daughter."

"Did she say anything else?"

"No."

He folded the paper and placed it in his pocket.

"Don't worry about it."

I stared at him.

"Don't worry about it? Your marriage isn't something you can keep calling a problem whenever it becomes inconvenient."

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to."

We stood in silence until I finally asked the question that had been haunting me.

"Does your wife know about me?"

Rod looked away.

"Rod, does she know I'm carrying your child?"

He rubbed his face.

"I haven't told her everything."

My heart sank.

"You haven't told her?"

"I was trying to find the right time."

I shook my head.

"How many more people have to wait for the right time while you decide what truth you're willing to tell?"

He looked at me, his expression caught between frustration and fear.

"I never wanted to hurt anyone."

"But people are being hurt, Rod. Your wife, your children, me, and the children who depend on us."

He said nothing.

For months, I had believed that I needed to be patient enough to make our relationship work. Now I understood that patience could not repair a situation built on dishonesty.

"You cannot undo what you've done," I told him. "But you can stop making things worse by hiding the truth."

Rod lowered his head.

I didn't know whether he would listen or what would happen when his wife learned everything.

But I could no longer protect him from the consequences of his own decisions.

That night, I lay awake thinking about the woman who had left the message.

Perhaps she was angry. Perhaps she was frightened. Maybe she had spent months wondering why her husband was becoming distant and why his explanations no longer made sense.

I didn't know what she was feeling, but I knew she deserved the truth.

So did I.

And so did every child who might be affected by Rod's choices.

I placed a hand over my stomach as my baby moved gently beneath my palm.

"I'm going to try to give you a better life," I whispered. "Even if I have to begin with almost nothing."

Starting over wasn't only about earning money or finding a place to live. It was also about refusing to participate in a lie.

I couldn't control what Rod told his wife. I couldn't force him to accept responsibility, and I couldn't decide how the other woman would react.

But I could decide what I would do next.

I would keep working toward independence. I would protect my children as carefully as I could. And I would no longer allow Rod's fear to determine how much truth I was willing to face.

The road ahead frightened me. There would be difficult conversations, painful discoveries, and decisions I had never imagined making.

But I was no longer waiting for someone else to give me permission to begin again.

I had taken my first step toward freedom.

Now I had to find the courage to keep walking.

— End of Chapter 7 —