My name is Lina, I’m twenty years old, and I’m a senior design student. My friends always say I seem more mature than I am, maybe because I grew up living only with my mother—a single, strong, and determined woman. My father passed away early, and my mother never remarried; over all these years, she worked tirelessly to raise me.
Once, while volunteering on a community project in Cebu, I met Santiago, the head of the logistics team. He was more than twenty years older than me, kind, calm, and spoke with a depth that surprised me. At first, I only appreciated him as a colleague, but little by little, my heart began to race every time I heard his voice.
Santiago had been through a lot. He had a stable job and a failed marriage, but no children. He rarely spoke about his past, only saying:
—“I lost something very precious. Now I just want to live honestly.”
Our love grew slowly, without scandal or drama. He always treated me with care, as if protecting something fragile. I knew many people whispered, “How can a twenty-year-old girl fall in love with a man over twenty years older than her?” but I didn’t care. With him, I felt at peace.
One day, Santiago told me:
—“I want to meet your mother. I don’t want to hide anything anymore.”
A knot formed in my stomach. My mother was strict and always worried, but I thought: if this is true love, there’s nothing to fear.
That day, I brought him home. Santiago wore a white shirt and carried a bouquet of sampaguita—the flower I had told him my mother loved. I held his hand as we crossed the old gate of our house in Quezon City. My mother was watering the plants and saw us.
In that instant… she froze.
Before I could introduce them, she ran to him and hugged him tightly, tears streaming uncontrollably.
—“My God… it’s you!” she exclaimed. “Santiago!”
The air grew heavy. I was frozen, unable to understand. My mother continued holding him, crying and trembling. Santiago looked stunned, his gaze lost, as if he couldn’t believe what he saw.
—“Are you… Thalía?” he stammered in a hoarse voice.
My mother lifted her head and nodded vigorously:
—“Yes… it’s you! My God, after more than twenty years, you’re still alive, still here!”
My heart raced.
—“Mom… do you know Santiago?”
They both looked at me. Neither said anything for a few seconds. Then my mother wiped her tears and sat down:
—“Lina… I have to tell you the truth. When I was young, I loved a man named Santiago… and this is him.”
Silence filled the room. I looked at Santiago, his face pale and confused. My mother continued, her voice trembling:
—“When I was studying at a technical school in Cebu, he had just finished university. We loved each other very much, but my parents didn’t approve of our relationship; they said he had no future. Then… Santiago had an accident, and we lost all contact. I thought he had died…”
Santiago sighed, his hands shaking:
—“I never forgot you, not a single day, Thalía. When I woke up in the hospital, I was far away and had no way to contact you. I returned, but I realized you already had a daughter… and I didn’t dare approach.”
I felt my world collapse. Every word tore my heart apart.
—“So… my daughter…” I whispered.
My mother looked at me, her voice breaking:
—“Lina… you are Santiago’s daughter.”
The silence was absolute. I only heard the wind rustling through the trees in the garden. Santiago took a step back, eyes red, hands falling limply.
—“No… it can’t be…” he whispered. “I… I can’t…”
My whole world felt empty. The man I loved, the one I thought was my destiny… turned out to be my father.
My mother hugged me, crying:
—“I’m so sorry… I never imagined…”
I said nothing. I only let the tears fall, salty and bitter like fate.
That day, the three of us sat together for a long time. It was no longer the introduction of a boyfriend, but a reunion of lost souls after more than twenty years.
And I… a daughter who found her father and lost her first love, could only remain silent, letting the tears keep falling.