The wedding without laughter
Our wedding took place in a grand mansion in Tagaytay.
Even though I was wearing an expensive gown, there was a weight in my chest — not from joy, but from fear.
At the altar stood the man I was about to marry — Don Armando.
He was fat, sweaty, and his voice was low and heavy. He smiled at me, but I couldn’t bring myself to smile back.
“From now on,” Don Armando said, “I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry about money anymore.”
I just nodded, but inside me, something screamed:
“I did this so Mom could live. For my brother.”
That night, instead of sharing a kiss of love, I sat by the window and cried — my tears falling in rhythm with the rain outside.
