The Day I Chose Self-Respect Over Sacrifice: A Mother’s Story of Rediscovering Her Worth

Two months passed in silence. I didn’t call Marco, and though he sent messages asking where I was, I deleted them. It wasn’t to punish him; I just didn’t want to reopen old wounds.

Back in Quezon City, the atmosphere shifted. Marco became quiet, weighed down by guilt. Denise stopped complaining, realizing perhaps that my absence wasn’t a relief but a loss.

But the one most affected was my grandson, Jio. Only seven years old, he asked every morning, “Where’s Grandma?”

Without me, the house felt colder. The hand that once tucked him in, the voice that reminded him to pray, the warmth that never judged — all were gone. Children feel things adults try to ignore.

When My Son Found Me Again