Shiela’s wedding resembled a scene from a movie. It was a Grand Garden Wedding at the most expensive venue in Tagaytay. The surroundings were filled with fresh flowers, the chandeliers were crystal, and the gown she wore was made by a famous designer.
All of Shiela’s relatives, friends, and socialite acquaintances were there. Everyone was smiling, applauding.
But outside the gate, behind a large Mango tree, a woman peeked out.
That was Ate Mara.
Shiela’s older sister.
She was wearing a simple duster dress topped with an old jacket. She had a large scar covering half of her face and neck—a result of a gas tank explosion in their kitchen years ago. She took the brunt of the fire to save baby Shiela.
But Shiela didn’t remember that.
All she saw was her sister’s “disgusting” face.
Mara recalled what her sister had said the previous night when she handed over her gift.
“Ate, please don’t come to my wedding, okay? There are so many VIPs… they might get scared by your face. It will ruin my video and pictures. Just stay home.”
It hurt.
Mara’s face felt burned again.
But because she loved her sister, she simply nodded.
“Okay, Shiela. As long as you’re happy.”
Now, watching from afar as they cut the cake, Mara’s tears were falling. All she wanted was to see her sister get married.
Inside the reception:
The guests were thoroughly enjoying the food. Five-star catering—Roast Beef, Lobster, Truffle Pasta, and expensive desserts.
“Wow, Shiela, the food is delicious! Your husband must be very rich?”
Shiela forced a laugh.
“Of course, Ninang (Godmother)! We only want the best!”
She didn’t admit that they were deep in debt and couldn’t afford such luxury.
Suddenly, the Head Chef of the Catering Service went up on stage. He was known as a strict and famous Chef in the country.
He took the microphone.
“Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen.”
Everyone quieted down.
“I would like to thank the person who made this lavish feast possible. This client is very special to me.”
Shiela smiled, preparing to wave.
“This feast worth 300,000 pesos was fully paid in cash three months ago.
By a woman who sells vegetables in the market every day. She told me:
‘Chef, make it the most delicious, okay? Because it’s my sister’s dream to be a princess at her wedding.’”
Shiela’s eyes widened.
Her smile vanished.
“I tried to look for her inside… But she’s not here.”
The Chef looked toward the direction of the gate.
“There she is!”
The spotlight focused on Mara. Her scar was clearly visible. Some guests whispered:
“A beggar?”
“Who is that?”
But the Chef walked toward Mara and personally opened the gate for her.
“Ma’am Mara, please, come in.”
“N-no need, it’s embarrassing…” she covered her face.
“There is nothing embarrassing about the love of a sister.”
The Chef’s voice was loud—everyone heard it.
“You paid for the food they are eating. You are my VIP tonight.”
The Chef assisted Mara inside.
Shiela was mortified.
Her face flushed—not from makeup, but from shame.
One by one, the guests stood up. They applauded. They no longer saw the scar—they saw the sacrifice.
Reaching the front, Mara faced Shiela.
“I’m sorry, Bunso (Youngest sibling)… I think I ruined your pictures. I just wanted to see you happy. Don’t worry, I’m leaving now.”
She was about to leave—when Shiela suddenly sobbed.
She ran to her older sister and hugged her tightly.
“Ate! I’m sorry! I’m so awful!”
Shiela held Mara’s face.
“You are not embarrassing, Ate. You are the most beautiful woman at my wedding. Because if it weren’t for you—I wouldn’t be here.”
Shiela seated Mara next to her—in the chair designated for the Special Guest.
Mara, wearing only a duster dress, became the star of the night.
And as they ate the Roast Beef that Mara’s sweat and blood had paid for, everyone realized—that true beauty lies not in the gown, not in smooth skin, but in a heart ready to give, even when the world turns its back.