I opened the last room and my knees buckled. It was full of stacked boxes. Some were open, and inside were bundles of cash tied together.
On the floor. I nodded, my hand trembling. I know he sends 8 million pesos every year. If there’s so much money here, where does it come from? Why is it hidden in a locked room like a warehouse?
At that moment, I heard a door open downstairs. Weak footsteps. I felt like my heart was going to jump out of my chest.
Maria Luisa’s voice, but lower, very low, tired. I ran down the stairs. She was standing at the bottom, looking at me. We hadn’t seen each other in twelve years; she was still beautiful but thin, with deep eyes and a heavy air.
We looked at each other for a few seconds. She came closer and gave me a tight hug, not crying, just silent. I’m trembling: Is this what your life is like?
He walks away, looking directly at me.
Ma’am, you shouldn’t be here.
Bakit
She smiled slightly, but didn’t
look at me.
I took
his hand. Where’s your wife? Why isn’t she using it here? Why is there so much money upstairs?
She was silent for a long time before
speaking: Mom, I’m not married
It feels like my world has stopped
. What are you saying?
I never had a wife
Every word
feels like a punch. Twelve years ago I lied to you.
He
nodded: The money I send each year doesn’t come from my husband. It cost me a lot.
How do you make so much money?
He smiled bitterly
in exchange for time and a part of my life
She went to school slowly. Twelve years ago, because of poverty, my accident, and debts, she went to Korea to work as an interpreter and was personally involved with a rich man named Kang Jun. Honestly, sometimes I had to be the perfect woman for him.
I’m not his wife, but I’m not a simple person either. I need to smile when I need to, and be quiet when I need to.
I feel like my heart is being squeezed. Do you know how much it hurts?
He nodded, I know. But if I didn’t go, where will we get the money for your treatment? How will we pay off the debt? I have no other choice.
I cried, but not like this.
He continued. This house was bought for him. The money above is money he hasn’t used yet. Every year he sends 8 million pesos; he saves the rest for when he stops.
But he did have a contract. If he leaves early, he’ll have to return all the money, more than 90 million pesos. There are two years left on his contract.
I was depressed. My son isn’t alive; he’s locked in a no-lock agreement but can’t escape.
Suddenly, the phone rang. Maria Luisa looked at the screen; her face changed. He
answered:
Yes, I’m going. As soon as the call ended, she looked at me. Mom, I have to go. I don’t have a specific deadline.
I saw her getting dressed, fixing her hair, being the perfect woman everyone else wants. Do you have to be like that all the time?
She nodded. I went to the kitchen and quickly prepared broth and rice. Eat first.
He sat down, picked up his spoon, and looked at the soup, his eyes red. He ate in silence, each sip like a memory from the past. I sat across from him, close but seemingly distant.
After dinner, she got up, Mom, I was leaving
When he disappeared, I noticed a small key on the table. I have a limit. I went upstairs, entered the money room, and found a small cabinet against the wall. The key is correct. When I opened it, it was a thick folder.
Signed in the name of Maria Luisa. Fourteen years old. No strict conditions are allowed for departure, all money must be returned if violated, the image must be maintained, outside relations are prohibited, and the other party has the right to act if reputation is damaged.
I leaned against the wall, struggling to breathe. For twelve years, my son lived in an iron cage but couldn’t get out.
When Maria Luisa returned, there was a tall man in a suit in the living room. He looked at me coldly. “Who are you?”
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