Rejection is one of the hardest things to endure, especially when it comes from people we love and trust the most. When you give your heart, your time, and your whole life to someone, only to be discarded like a piece of paper, it leaves wounds deeper than words can explain. This is a story of heartbreak, betrayal, and ultimately, strength.
The First Betrayal
I was with my first love for eleven years. It wasn’t perfect, but I gave him everything—my love, my support, my patience. My parents kept pressuring me to get married, and even though I wasn’t ready, I gave in to their wishes. Looking back, maybe I married him out of defiance, tired of the constant nagging. But just one and a half years into the marriage, he cheated.
At first, I tried to forgive. Maybe it was a mistake, I told myself. Maybe love could fix it. But after the third woman, I couldn’t ignore the truth anymore. He wasn’t sorry. He didn’t respect me. And after all I had sacrificed for him—paying for his training, supporting him financially, defending him from everyone—he had the audacity to betray me. The pain was unbearable. I had spent nearly half of my life with him, only to be thrown away. I felt so alone. I was an introvert with few friends to lean on, and the weight of rejection nearly crushed me. I even thought of ending my life because the hurt was just too much.
But something inside me refused to let him have that power over me. Slowly, I started picking up the pieces. I focused on myself, my career, my growth. I got promoted. I traveled. I began to see that life could move forward, even after heartbreak.
The Second Betrayal
Just when I thought I was ready to love again, he came into my life. He made me believe in love again. I trusted him so much that I left everything behind—my high-paying job, my family, my hometown—just to be with him. I told him my deepest fear, my biggest insecurity: I had PCOS, which made it difficult for me to have children. He reassured me. He said he loved me, that we could always adopt. I believed him.
For eight years, I lived in the warmth of his promises. Eight long years. And then, one day, he told me he wanted his own family. A child of his own. And he couldn’t do that with me. Just like that, everything we had built, everything he had promised, was gone.
There's no divorce in the Philippines, so I can't give him anything. I can't give him children, can't get married to him. Love alone is not enough.
Did those promises mean nothing? Did I mean nothing?
Where do I stand now, bound by marriage yet abandoned? Am I still worthy of love, or has my worth faded with their broken promises? The loneliness is suffocating, and I wonder—what purpose remains for me in a world that has discarded me so easily?
Why Does This Keep Happening?
Both counld't even break up with me in person. I gave my all. Twice. I loved selflessly, sacrificed without hesitation, and believed in promises that turned to dust. Yet, both times, I was left broken, discarded like something that no longer had value. First, a man I spent over a decade with betrayed me without remorse. Then, another made me believe I was enough—until I wasn’t. Until the very thing he once accepted became the reason he walked away.
There’s no divorce in the Philippines. No way to start over. No way to undo the choices I made out of love. I was willing to stand by him, despite everything. But in the end, love wasn’t enough. If love alone isn’t enough, then what is?
I’ve questioned my worth more times than I can count. Am I nothing more than a placeholder in someone’s life until they decide they want something more? Am I destined to give and give until there’s nothing left of me?
