My name is Ria. I’m twenty years old and in my final year of design school in Manila.
People often say I seem more mature than my age—maybe because I grew up only with my mother. She’s a single mom: strong, hardworking, and fiercely determined. My father passed away long ago, and she never remarried. She raised me entirely on her own.
A few months ago, during a volunteer project in Davao, I met Samer—the head of our logistics team.
He was twenty to twenty-five years older than me, calm, soft-spoken, and there was a depth in his voice that felt like it reached straight into my heart. At first he was just a colleague, but slowly, every word he spoke, every glance he gave me, made my chest tighten.
Samer had been through many hardships—an unstable early career, a failed marriage, no children. He rarely talked about his past. He would only say:
“I lost something very precious in my life… now I just want to live honestly.”
Our love grew quietly. No drama, no games—just a peaceful, gentle connection.
People questioned me:
“How can a 20-year-old girl fall for a man in his forties?”
But I didn’t care. With him, I felt safe.
One day, Samer said:
“Ria, I want to meet your mother… I don’t want to hide anything anymore.”
I panicked a little. My mother is strict and always worried.
But if love is real, what was there to fear?
That evening, I brought Samer to our old apartment in Quezon City.
He wore a simple white barong and carried a bunch of yellow sampaguita and gumamela, my mom’s favorites. We walked in hand-in-hand. My mom was watering the plants in our little terrace.
The moment she looked at Samer… she froze.
Before I could say a word, she ran toward him—
and hugged him so tightly it shocked me.
Tears poured from her eyes.
“Diyos ko… Samer! It’s really you?” she cried.
The air grew heavy.
I stood there, stunned.
My mother was shaking, sobbing uncontrollably.
Samer looked just as shocked, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
In a trembling voice, he whispered:
“You… Sushmita…?”
Mom lifted her face—her eyes swollen red.
“Yes, Samer… it’s me.
My God… it’s been more than twenty years.
You’re alive… and here…”
My heart was pounding.
“Mom… do you know him?” I whispered.
Both of them looked at me.
For a few moments, no one spoke.
Then Mom wiped her tears and sat down slowly.
“Ria… I need to tell you the truth,” she said.
“When I was young, I fell deeply in love with a man… his name was Samer. And this—this is him.”
The room fell silent.
I looked at Samer—his face had gone pale.
Mom’s voice trembled as she continued:
“When I was studying in a technical college in Cebu, Samer had already graduated. We loved each other dearly. But my parents refused our relationship.
They said he had no stable future.
Then… one day, Samer got into a terrible accident.
We lost contact. I was told he might not survive…”
Samer took a deep breath, his hands shaking.
“I never forgot you, Sushmita.
When I woke up in the hospital, I was far away… and coming back to you wasn’t possible.
When I finally did return, I heard you had a daughter…
And I didn’t want to return only to bring pain into your life again.”
It felt like the floor beneath me disappeared.
“So… I…” My voice cracked.
Mom took my hand, her eyes filled with tears.
“Ria… you are Samer’s daughter.”
Time stopped.
Silence filled the house—except for the rustling of leaves outside.
Samer stepped back, tears in his eyes, his face breaking apart.
“No… this can’t be…” he whispered.
My world shattered.
The man I believed was my love…
was actually my father.
Mom held me tightly as she cried:
“I’m so sorry… I never imagined this…”
Tears streamed down my face—hot, bitter, and full of pain.
That day, the three of us sat together for a long, long time.
It was no longer the day I introduced a lover—
but the day two people reunited after twenty years of separation.
And I…
A daughter who had finally found her father— and lost her first love— could only sit there in silence.