Instead, something completely unexpected happened.
Marco’s mother, Aling Corazon, looked directly at me with a cold and serious expression. Her voice was calm but firm as she spoke words that I will never forget.
“There’s no point discussing this any further,” she said. “Both women are pregnant. Whoever gives birth to a boy will stay in this family. If the child is a girl, then she can leave.”
For a moment, I thought I had misunderstood her. I waited for someone—anyone—to object to what she had just said.
But no one spoke.
The room was silent.
In that moment, I realized that in their eyes, my value as a woman depended entirely on the gender of the child I carried. It didn’t matter that I was Marco’s wife. It didn’t matter how much I had sacrificed for our marriage. None of it mattered to them.
I slowly turned to Marco, hoping he would defend me. I hoped he would stand up and tell his family that their words were unfair and cruel.
But Marco didn’t say anything.
He simply sat there, staring down at the floor, avoiding my eyes.
That silence hurt more than anything else.
That night, I stood by the window of the house that I had once proudly called home. The city lights outside looked distant and cold, much like the future I suddenly saw ahead of me.
I realized something important in that quiet moment.
Even if the child inside me turned out to be a boy… I could never raise him in a family that believed a woman’s worth depended on something she could never control.
I deserved better.
My child deserved better.
So I made my decision.
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