When I went to my ex-husband’s house after 5 years of divorce, I suddenly saw the photo of him hanging on the wall, I had done something immoral… Yesterday it rained heavily.
On my

way home from work in Quezon City, I saw my ex-wife waiting for a bus under the awning of the bus stop. The pouring rain made her shiver, her hands clinging to her little handbag on her chest.

At that moment, my heart skipped a beat. Even though it had been 5 years since the breakup, her appearance was still so familiar that I was horrified. Without thinking, I stopped the car, got out and called:

“Althea! Get in the car and I’ll take you home.”

He turned around, his eyes slightly surprised, then nodded slightly, getting into the car with a forced smile.

Althea and I have known each other since high school in Batangas. After the university entrance exam, I was accepted to a university in Manila, and she was admitted to a school in Cebu.

Due to the long distance, we gradually lost contact, occasionally sending each other a few messages of greetings and greetings.

Four years later, when we both graduated and returned to our hometown for work, fate brought us together again. My company and his co-worker were in the same office building. We met every day in the elevator, in the ground floor café… Old feelings slowly came back to life.

Two years later, we were married with the blessings of both families. Everyone said we were a “match made in heaven”: the gentle engineer and the gentle, loving teacher.

The first years of our marriage were full of happiness. But three years passed… no children came to us.

My family began to worry. My mother advised us to go to the doctor.
The result was like thunder: Althea couldn’t have children.

I still love her as much as ever, and my mother was so tolerant that she suggested:

“If you really love each other, you can adopt a child.”

But Althea couldn’t overcome her guilt. She lived in agony, thinking that she had let me down, that she had lost hope for my mother for her grandchildren.

One night, when I came home from work, she put a divorce petition in front of me.

“I’m sorry. I can’t give you a complete family. Let me find another happiness.”

I pleaded, I tried to hold on, but her eyes were cold and painful. At last, we parted in tears.

Time passed like the wind.

I put all my mind to work, trying to fill the void in my heart. Five years later, I had a stable job in Manila, a small apartment, and a life that everyone would say was “stable and fulfilling”.

But it wasn’t until yesterday – the day I met him again in the rain – that I realized that my heart had never been truly at peace.

When the car stopped in front of an old apartment complex in Pasig, he said softly:

“Nandito ako.”

I looked at the old building, its peeled plaster walls, its rusty steel staircases, and the broken glass doors that had to be covered with wooden panels. My heart was shaking.

I followed him inside to escape the rain, the weight of my heart as I watched the small, dark, damp apartment.

The room had only a rotten wooden dining table, a few pots of dried flowers, and an old bed.

But what froze me – the picture of our wedding hung right on the wall above the bed.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. That picture – I thought he threw it away a long time ago. But five years later, he still kept it, still hanging it in the most solemn place in this difficult room.

I have a weak question:

“Why are you still keeping this picture?”

He smiled softly, his eyes full of sadness.

“I don’t have any hope… And so… I can’t throw that away.”

On the way home, it was still raining heavily. I was driving quietly, my mind in a mess.

The image of her sitting in a dark room, the old wedding photo hanging on the wall, haunted me every minute.

How has he lived for the past 5 years? Why is he so lonely and miserable?

I began to wonder: Should I go back?

Not out of pity, nor out of responsibility, but because I understand that my heart never stops loving him.

That night I couldn’t sleep. The feeling of anxiety sent me back to the apartment complex where he lived.

Her room was still dim. I stood outside the door, planning to knock – but then hesitating.

Suddenly, the door opened. He came out, surprised:

“Ikaw… bakit ka nandito?”

nalilito as:

“I just want to see if… You’re all right.”

He was silent for a moment and then let me in. In the small room, the sound of rain falling on the balcony made the atmosphere even more chaotic.

I looked at the wedding photo again. Memories come back – happy days, hugs, tears when we parted.

I couldn’t hold back any longer, I walked over, gently touched his face in the photo, then turned around to look at him for a long time.

Our eyes met – words needed.

I know, I’m going to do something unethical – because he’s in the past, and I promised not to hurt him again.

At that moment, however, my heart sank. I hugged him tightly…

He didn’t push me away. We were silent, only the sound of rain falling on the roof of the tin can.

I woke up early and the rain had stopped. He was still lying next to me, his face peaceful, his thin hands gripping the corner of the blanket.

I sat down and looked at the wedding picture again — it was yellow but the small room was still illuminated.

I know I made a mistake, but I also understand that last night wasn’t a sin, but a liberation for both of us.

She needs to be loved, and I need to be forgiven – for years of abandoning that woman in loneliness.

Before leaving, I left a small note on the table:

“I don’t know what the future holds, but I’ll always be here, if you need me.”

He never contacted me again, but a few weeks later, I received a handwritten letter sent to the office:

“I don’t regret that rainy night. I just want you to be happy.
Let that memory be the best things between us.”

Over the years, I’ve still occasionally stopped by the old apartment building, looking out the window where the little flower pot he planted was.

I didn’t go in, I just stood there and stared into the distance.

In the midst of the crowd of Manila, I realized: there are people, even though they are gone, will always be a part of our hearts.