“Honey, I’m going to have my hair cut this month.”
Troy slammed his phone in front of me. On the screen, the notification from the banking app is visible, the net pay: ₱28,650.
He pressed the screen as if he had just finished a massive project, then he sprang to his feet and put the phone in his pants pocket.
“I have already transferred ₱26,000 to my mother. He said that there was a crack in cement in our garage in Davao. “It’s going to be raining right now, and it could flood the house if it’s not cleaned up right away.”
As he said this, his gaze narrowed slightly, until it stopped at a cluster of grapes I bought yesterday and placed on the table.
That was a sale at the fruit stand before the market closed—the stems were a bit dry but the price had been cut by about half.
With the dishes just washed, I walked out of the kitchen. The tips of my fingers were still wet so I rubbed them with my apron first.
“Say.”
I answered only one word, as light as breath, without a mixture of joy or sadness.
I have memorized every step of this scene; It was so deep in my bones that I didn’t have the strength to look anymore.
Every fifteen, it’s like an alarm clock is set: As soon as her salary is in her account, ₱26,000 immediately flies into a bank account named “Luzviminda Salvacion.”
She was the mother of Troy, my mother-in-law.
The remaining ₱2,650 will be his “allowance” for the whole month—buying cigarettes, occasional socializing with co-workers, or an MRT fare to the office.
On the other hand, for our two-bedroom rental here in Makati, the rent is ₱15,000 per month. Add to that electricity, water, internet, and other administrative fees amounting to about ₱3,500. Not to mention the purchase of rice, dishes, and household items for two people. Of course, all of this was just for me.
Just because I make a little more money from him, my net pay is around ₱45,000.
“My mother said, ‘Our family is in front of the house, so we can’t delay the repairs.’”
Troy noticed that I wasn’t moving so he added some justification, as if saying goodbye but also as if he was convincing himself.
He picked up a grain of grape, played with his fingers, before putting it back on the plate.
“It’s not like you’re going to have to buy a new one next time, so you don’t have to buy a new one.”
I looked at him. I felt exhausted from every inch of my spine. I feel like speaking is a big job.
“The sun is setting so it’s cheap.”
I said: “There’s a lot of spending this month. ‘ “Are you going to have more than 2,000 in the next month?”
Troy hesitated for a moment and shook his head.
“Maybe… On the other hand, I was able to save money. My Mom is… It’s also really stressful.”
Of course, everyone says that life is not easy. My mother-in-law, it wasn’t easy because Troy was raised on his own after being widowed early on.
My husband, it’s not easy either because he gives up over 90% of his salary just to prove being a “good son.”
Eh, me? I’m Hanna—am I supposed to feel light?
My parents also saved up to get me through college, but I never put my payroll card in front of them to give it my all.
We have been married for 2 years. Here in the chaotic and crowded Makati, living in a small condo, without a car, and my savings… I checked the balance on my phone, it was only around ₱230,000. I had almost all of them saved up before we got married.
Troy’s bank account, even though I didn’t look at it, I knew it was no more than three digits. Her money all flowed to her mother, and her constant line:
“Leave it to Mom, we’ll be there one day.”
But my heart knows, that money is like being thrown into a river—once it’s gone, it’s never going to come back.
Last week, I was with my co-worker Mylene who was passing by a mall in Ayala. A silk blouse of sea-foam green caught my attention in a display window.
The shape is very elegant, and the fabric seems to glow under the light. You know it’s not cheap. To make matters worse, it is on sale for 70%, so from the original price, it is only ₱1,350.
I stared at it for a long time. Mylene nodded at me.
“Do you like it? Measure it. It’s only a thousand dollars, that’s just the price of a buffet.”
He’s right, ₱1,350 for someone earning more than ₱40,000 is just the equivalent of two tickets to a movie and a coffee.
Suddenly, my heart sank. My brain is like a calculator doing quick calculations.
Rent has been paid this month, electricity and water are probably around ₱2,000. Detergent and toothpaste at home are running out, they need to be purchased.
Troy’s shoes, they’re 2 years old and they’re sloppy, should I buy him a new one? And then, my mother-in-law called in the past, saying that she wanted a special challenge from Manila because she said that there was not a good price to buy there.
At ₱1,350, there is a lot to do. Or maybe it’s just for me, so I can be happy at least once in a while.
At the end of the day, I just smiled and said to Melanie:
“No, it doesn’t look like that color is my thing, maybe I look pale.”
I told him to walk away. The little spark of joy in my heart was instantly extinguished by the truth.
The other day I got paid, I ended up buying that dress online anyway. I just saw it as a reward to myself after two months of non-stop overtime working on blueprints.
The parcel arrived today. I measured right away—the size was just right, and my complexion was getting brighter. The woman I saw in the mirror no longer looked tired and pale.
When Troy came home from work, he immediately saw the parcel box on the sofa, and he immediately asked:
“What did you buy online?”
“It’s just a slap in the face, it’s a slap in the face.”
I tried to normalize the tone of my voice.
She walked over, grabbed the dress from the box, and her eyes immediately darted to the price tag.
“A thousand more?”
Her eyebrows furrowed instantly.
“Mom, didn’t you tell me that you have to clean up the garage, you have to pay a lot of money, so let’s save money first?”
He paused for a moment, then put the dress back in the box as if holding a hot coal.
“At this point in time, are you really going to buy it? That doesn’t seem right.”
At that moment, I felt as if I had been poured ice, stiffening in the cold from head to toe.
Not right? Me who earns ₱45,000 monthly, me who covers 90% of the house expenses, just bought clothes on sale, not right anymore?
“That ₱26,000 that he sends every month, what’s that called?” Right? Obligation?
My mouth opened but it felt like something was blocking my throat. Looking into her judge-filled face—as if to say “you don’t care” and “my mother is a fool”—I felt that there was no point in saying more.
What else is it for?
“My mom raised me on my own, so it wasn’t easy for her.”
“Can’t you have a broader understanding? We’re young, so it’s okay to struggle a little bit.”
“We’re a family, don’t count it, it’s ruining relationships.”
Those are the lines I’ve been hearing for two years, over and over again like a broken record. Whenever I tried to communicate properly, he would always drop me into the hole of “parenting.”
All of my needs and feelings, in the face of those phrases, come across as selfish, emotional, and calculating.
I took off my clothes and tucked them into the back of the closet. At the same time, I also seem to have shut down any desire to be good to myself.
While we were eating dinner, my mother-in-law, Luzviminda, made a video call. Troy quickly let go of the spoon, answered the call, and the old woman’s face appeared on the screen that even though it was wrinkled still looked sharp. Troy greeted enthusiastically “Mom!”
On the other end, my mother-in-law’s voice was loud, visibly happy and complacent.
“Troy! I’ve got the money, huh? I’m going to have to go to the garage tomorrow to get the car repaired, and I’m going to have to get it done right away!”
“It’s up to you, Mom.” Just don’t beat yourself up.”
Troy smiled as he nodded.
“What’s tired? I’m so excited! Hey guys, I have something to tell you. A few days ago, I was with my aunt at a jewelry store near the market. I love the color palette, the color palette, the bright green.”
There was a hint of pride and unmistakable pride in his voice.
Troy’s smile stopped for a moment, but he quickly pretended it wasn’t anything.
“If you want it, buy it. Is there enough money?”
“Uh, didn’t you just send it? Not everyone is going to be able to get away with it! I’ve just added a little bit of money to my pension, I’ve bought it! “Your Majesty, your Majesty, your Majesty, your Majesty, Your Majesty,
My mother-in-law’s loud laughter at the speaker was like needles pricking through my ear.
My spoon stopped in the air. The hot dish I was eating suddenly turned into a shabby, tasteless piece of paper.
₱26,000 for the garage. But there’s more to it than just buying “bright green” jewelry.
While I, just because of a ₱1,350 dress on sale, she was told “no conscience.”
The room was silent, with only Troy’s voice and my mother-in-law’s screaming being heard. I felt like a shadow in my own home.
“Hey, did you hear that?” he asked suddenly, his eyes shining with pride. “My mother was very happy. He is very grateful to us.”
I slowly put the spoon and fork down. I couldn’t swallow the last sip of food.
“To us?” I asked, my voice calm but with a sharpness that he didn’t notice. “Or you? Because as far as I know, Troy, his money to buy jewelry comes from your wages that you should have contributed to it at home.”
The smile faded from Troy’s face. He immediately turned off the video call after saying goodbye to his Mama Luz quickly.
“What’s the matter, Hannah?” Are you going to start again?”
“The problem,” I stood up and faced him, “is the fact that every penny of your income goes to your mom’s luxury while I’m the one who takes all the weight off it. And when I bought a blouse—a blouse, Troy—you made me feel like a criminal who stole from your family.”
“You’re talking so much! Is building a garage a luxury? And then Mama is retired, she needs a little fun—”
“I’m tired!” he yelled. “If you don’t pay 100% of your bills, you won’t be able to pay ₱26,000!” In other words, I’m the one funding your mom’s ‘hiyo’ and your mom’s ‘pendant’ while I, have to wait for a sale just to buy clothes that don’t have holes.”
Troy’s face flushed with anger or maybe embarrassment. “You’re so selfish, Hannah! Is your money the only thing that matters? “What about my mother’s sacrifice for me?” I owe my life to him!”
“If that’s the case, Troy, pay off your debt with your own life. Not mine.”
I grabbed my bag and the box of blouses.
“Where are you going? “It’s late!” he yelled as he followed me to the door.
“I’m going to a place where a thousand pesos isn’t a sin,” I turned to him before leaving. “And while I’m away, try to pay for electricity and internet with your mom’s ‘thank you’. Let’s see if we don’t get cut tomorrow.”
I slammed the door shut. As I walked down the hallway of the condo, I felt a strange lightness. For two years, I’ve never felt like every step I took was no longer for the Salvacion family, but for Hanna.
I’ll let him live in a house without electricity, with his ‘good son’ image and his dreams of cement in Davao. I ended up being the foundation of a house that I didn’t really consider family.
Three days went by and I didn’t come home. I stayed in a hotel near the office—with my own money, of my own choice. For those three days, my phone was ringing non-stop. Not from Troy to apologize, but from my mother-in-law.
When I returned to the condo on Saturday morning, the smell of spicy food and Troy sitting in the dark came over me. The power has been cut off.
“Come back,” Troy’s voice trailed off. “Mom is calling. Are you going to fight? Why did you respond to him like that in the chat? She was embarrassed by my aunts!”
I didn’t answer him. I went straight to my room and grabbed a large suitcase.
“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice cracking.
“I’m leaving, Troy. Let’s break down the tools. But I don’t really have anything to share with you because everything in it, from the couch to the last spoon, I bought my money.”
“Just because of the clothes? Hannah, don’t be so yourself! “Excuse me, Mom, let’s fix this.”
I stopped and looked straight at him. “It’s not because of the clothes, Troy. It’s because of the two years you made me an ‘ATM’ so you could be a ‘Superstar’ in your Mom’s eyes. I’m tired of being your hero.”
Suddenly, the door opened. Mama Luz, carrying a key (which Troy gave me at the time without my knowledge). He walked in smiling.
“Hanna! What right do you have to call me an “old greedy for money”? You’re just escalating the conversation just for a piece of literature you bought!”
I looked at her neck. He was wearing a jade scarf. Bright green, glowing in the midst of our dark living room.
“You’re so beautiful, Mom,” I said with a smile, but my eyes were cold. “It’s something about you.” “That’s the last piece of jewelry you’ll ever wear when I’m tired.”
I turned to Troy. “Troy, this is my last ₱7,500 for half of this month’s rent. The other half, you charge to your mother’s pendant. Or, tear down the cement in Davao and sell it back.”
“You’re so cute!” cried Mother Lucy.
“I’m not being rude, Mom. “I’ve just learned how to do it,” I replied as I pulled out my suitcase. “Troy, I’ll give you your freedom. Bring your mom to your “garage.” There you sleep, there you eat the “hiyo” and “praise” of your relatives. From now on, my wages will be for me, my clothes, and my future.”
I walked out the door without looking back. I could still hear Troy screaming and my mother-in-law moaning, but it didn’t bother me anymore.
As I walked down the hallway, the sun was shining. I grabbed the blouse I was wearing—the sea-foam green silk. Under the sunlight, the color becomes brighter. I don’t look like a anymore. I don’t look like a anymore.
Finally, I’m wearing the freedom that I’ve paid for for a long time, but have never truly gained.
