Before the Third Year of Our Annulment, I Searched for My Ex-Wife—But When I Found Out She Had Twin Children Who Looked Like Me, That’s When My Whole World Started to Collapse

One day before the third anniversary of our annulment, I secretly ordered my assistant to find out where my ex-wife was.

I thought I would just receive a simple report.

But just an hour later, he returned with shaking hands.

“Sir Rafael,” he said, “Ma’am Althea… has twin children.”

And the two children are almost exact copies of me.

I didn’t immediately take the brown envelope Nico handed me. I just sat in the swivel chair of my office in Makati, staring at the thick glass in front of me, while the entire city was bustling below.

“Say it again,” I said coldly.

Nico swallowed. “She has twins, sir. One boy, one girl. Two and a half years old now.”

It felt like something heavy had fallen on my chest.

Two and a half years.

If the number is correct…

This means that Althea was already pregnant with the children when we got the annulment.

Nico slowly placed the photo on the table.

The photo was taken in a park in Cebu. Under the big trees, there was a woman pushing a double stroller. She was thinner than before. Her hair was shorter. Her clothes were simple, but even with her back turned slightly, I recognized her immediately.

Althea Mercado.

The woman I married.

The woman I let leave without even looking back.

I still haven’t touched the photo.

“Is he in Cebu?” I asked.

“Yes, sir. He left Manila on the afternoon of the day the final decision on your annulment was issued.”

I’m closed.

I remember that day.

When we left the courthouse, he just said, “Goodbye, Rafael.”

As for me, I went straight to the car. I had a merger meeting at the time. I didn’t ask him where he was going. I also didn’t notice that his hand was shaking while holding his small suitcase.

I thought he would come back.

I thought, like before, he would just sulk, wait, and I would be the one to seduce him when the time came.

But he never came back.

“When were the twins born?” I asked.

“Six months after the annulment, sir. At Cebu Doctors’ Hospital. The man came first, the woman followed.”

I felt my fingers go stiff.

Six months.

That’s when I remembered the days before we broke up.

She often vomits every morning. I said it might just be acid. She wanted to see a doctor, but I replied, “I’m busy, Althea. You can handle that.”

One time, she came out of the bathroom holding a pregnancy test. I was calling the client. I just motioned for her to come out first.

I never called him back.

After that, my mother, Doña Carmen, arrived. She blamed Althea because we had been married for two years but we still had no children. She made me drink some herbal medicine. Every day, three cups of bitter broth.

Althea cries while drinking.

But not once did I ask why.

“Sir?” Nico called softly. “Shall I continue the investigation?”

I opened the envelope.

There is a clearer picture of the two children.

The woman, with round cheeks, a sharp nose, and curved lips exactly like mine when I was a child.

The man, on the other hand, looks serious even though he’s just a baby in the photo, just like me in our old family portrait.

“Everything,” I said. “I want to know everything. Where he lives, what his job is, who he hangs out with, if he’s married…”

Nico nodded.

“And Nico,” I added, “don’t let my mother know about this.”

I know what Mom will do when she finds out she has a grandchild.

He is going to Cebu.

He will kidnap the children.

And he will crush Althea again like he did before.

After Nico left, I picked up my phone. I hadn’t called Althea’s number in three years.

I pressed call.

Ring.

Sometimes.

Twice.

Three.

Until someone answers.

“Hello?”

Male voice.

My jaw went rigid. “I’m looking for Althea Mercado.”

“Who is this?”

“I am his ex-wife.”

A moment of silence.

Then, the man laughed. “Ex-wife?”

His voice grew heavy.

“You have the wrong number. This is my wife’s phone.”

He hung up the call.

I called again.

The phone is turned off.

I immediately stood up, grabbed my coat, and left the office.

“Sir, where are you going?” my secretary asked.

“Cebu.”

“But you have dinner later—”

“Cancel everything.”

While in the elevator, Nico’s text arrived.

“Sir, we found something else. Ma’am Althea’s house in Cebu, named after her. Paid in cash. Amount: forty-two million pesos.”

Forty-two million.

I stopped in the middle of the lobby.

During the annulment, I left her a condo and five million pesos. But even if she sold it, it wouldn’t be enough to buy a house that expensive and raise two children on her own for three years.

Where did he get that kind of money?

That evening, I flew to Cebu.

I didn’t sleep.

The next morning, I stood in front of a quiet house in Maria Luisa Estate Park. White gate. Clean garden. A small children’s bicycle by the side.

I was about to knock when the gate opened.

A little girl came out, holding a teddy bear.

He looked up at me.

And in an instant, I saw my own face in his eyes.

“Mom!” he shouted entering the house.

“Why does this man look like me?”

PARTE2

“Why does this man look like me?”

I remained standing in front of the gate, my whole body feeling as if it had lost strength.

The girl wasn’t scared. She just looked at me, innocent, curious, while hugging the pink teddy bear.

Just a few seconds later, Althea came out.

She was wearing a white shirt, jeans, and her hair was tied up simply. At first glance, she was thinner, quieter, but more stable than the woman I left behind three years ago.

When he saw me, the color disappeared from his face.

“Rafael.”

Just one name.

But it felt like a knife had hit my chest.

“Mama,” said the girl, “do you know him?”

Althea didn’t answer right away. She knelt down and hugged her daughter.

“Lia, go inside first. Find Kuya Lucas.”

“I don’t want to. I look like him.”

Althea closed her eyes.

Then I heard small footsteps from inside. The boy came out, holding a toy car. When he saw me, he stopped.

We both didn’t act.

His eyes.

His eyebrows.

The way he stares.

It was like I was pulled back to an old photo of me when I was three years old.

“Althea,” I said almost in a whisper, “they are my children, aren’t they?”

He held the two children’s hands tightly.

“Come inside. Uncle Marco is there.”

Titus Marco.

Not a wife?

The children followed, but still looked back at me.

When the door closed, Althea faced me. There was no longer any tremor in her voice.

“Why are you here?”

“I called you last night. A man answered. He said you were his wife.”

He smiled slightly, but there was no joy in it.

“That’s my brother Marco. He knows I don’t want any trouble from the past.”

“Did he lie to me?”

“He protected me.”

I fell silent.

He’s right. That’s protection.

Protection against me.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked. “Why did you hide my children?”

Suddenly, he laughed softly. Not because he was happy, but because he was hurt by my question.

“Hidden?” he repeated. “Rafael, how many times have I tried to tell you.”

It felt like cold water had been poured on my head.

“No.”

“Yes.” He looked me straight in the eye. “The night I was holding the pregnancy test, you shooed me away because you were talking to a client. The next day, I told you we needed to talk. You said, ‘It’s the weekend, I’m tired.’”

My breathing became heavy.

“When the weekend came, you brought your mother home. She humiliated me because she said I was useless as a wife. She forced me to get checked to see if I was infertile. That’s when I found out from the doctor that I was pregnant. Twins.”

He stopped for a moment.

“I was going to go home to tell you. But before I could speak, you handed me the annulment papers.”

I couldn’t speak.

I remember that.

I was the first to sign.

I was the one who said, “This is better for both of us.”

I thought I was right then.

I thought our marriage would just be a burden on my schedule, on my business, on my life controlled by my mother.

“Why didn’t you fight for it?” I asked softly.

His eyes narrowed.

“I’m the one who should fight? I’m the pregnant one. I’m the one who gets insulted every day. I’m the one who’s being made to take medicine that I don’t know if is safe for children. I’m your husband, Rafael. But in that house, your mother has more of a voice than I do.”

I was hit by the truth.

I have nothing to defend.

“I want to see them,” I said.

“It’s not that easy.”

“They are my children.”

“And I’m the mother you didn’t ask if she was still alive for three years.”

Every word he said was like a slap.

“I didn’t come here to kidnap them,” I said. “I just want… I want to get even.”

“Go back?” He shook his head. “Children are not toys, Rafael. You can’t let them into your life because you just found out they have Villanueva faces.”

“Althea, I made a mistake.”

“I know.”

“I regret it.”

“I know too.”

“Then why does everything I say seem to make no sense?”

There he burst into tears.

Slowly, quietly, but it hurts more to watch than to scream.

“Because you only regretted it when you saw that you had lost something. Me, Rafael? I’ve been gone for a long time. You just didn’t notice.”

There is no more painful truth than that.

Before I could answer, the door opened.

Marco came out. Tall, serious, wearing a simple polo shirt. I knew him as Althea’s quiet older brother, but we weren’t close.

“Enough,” he said. “Althea, come in first.”

“Brother—”

“It’s me.”

Marco looked at me. There was no anger on his face, but the hatred that had been suppressed for a long time was clearly visible.

“Do you know how he got here?” he asked.

I didn’t answer.

“She arrived in Cebu pregnant, pale, carrying two suitcases and annulment papers. We thought she would lose herself. But she got up every day. She worked while pregnant. She designed interior projects online. She accepted all the jobs, even in the early hours of the morning.”

Interior projects.

I suddenly remembered.

When we were married, he loved drawing houses. He said he dreamed of having his own design studio. My response was, “It’s just a hobby, Althea. Don’t waste your time.”

I’m so cruel.

“The house?” I asked. “Forty-two million. Where did that come from?”

Marco’s face turned cold.

“From him. Not from you.”

I looked at Althea.

“Before she married you,” Marco continued, “she already had an inheritance from our grandfather in Cebu. She didn’t use it because she didn’t want you to think she brought money to the wedding. Only when you left her did she take her rights. She added to what she earned from the studio. Now, she has her own firm. She supports her children. Not you.”

It felt like my beliefs about him were crumbling one by one.

I used to think he was weak.

I thought he was just counting on me.

Little did I know that while I was ignoring him, he was slowly learning to stand on his own.

Suddenly my phone rang.

And Mom.

I didn’t answer.

But the calls came one after another.

When the phone rang again, Althea saw the name on the screen.

His face changed.

“Does he know?” he asked.

“No.”

“Make sure he doesn’t find out.”

“Althea, I won’t let him hurt you again.”

He smiled bitterly.

“You should have said that a long time ago.”

We hadn’t finished anything when a black car stopped outside.

The door opened.

Doña Carmen came down.

Althea stiffened.

I felt like I was being poured with fire.

“Rafael!” Mama shouted. “What nonsense did I hear? Do you have children here?”

Althea turned to Marco. He immediately ushered the twins inside.

Mama approached the gate, trembling with anger and excitement.

“Where are my grandchildren?” he asked. “Althea, how did you manage to hide the blood of the Villanueva family?”

There, for the first time in my entire life, I stepped between them.

“You are not coming in.”

Mom was stunned.

“What?”

“I said, you’re not coming in.”

“Rafael, those children are my grandchildren!”

“They are Althea’s children,” I replied firmly. “And if it weren’t for what we did, they wouldn’t be growing up without a father.”

His face turned red.

“Did we do it? Is it my fault if that woman is weak?”

I felt my blood boil.

“Stop.”

Everyone fell silent.

Even Althea looked at me.

“I’ve been carrying around the arrogance of thinking I was right for three years,” I said. “But now it’s clear. Althea didn’t destroy our family. I did. Because I chose to obey you rather than protect my husband.”

“Child-“

“You will not kidnap them. You will not intimidate them. You will not use them to clear our family’s name.”

Mama’s lips trembled.

“If you choose him over me—”

“I’m not choosing him over you,” I said. “I’m choosing what’s right.”

He stared at me for a long time.

Then, he got in the car and left.

That wasn’t the end of the trouble, I knew. But that was the first time I didn’t back down.

When silence returned, I turned to Althea.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me now,” I said. “I’m not asking you to come back either. All I’m asking is… let me get to know Lucas and Lia. In your way. In your time. Even if I start out as a stranger.”

He didn’t speak for a long time.

Then, he opened the door a little.

The twins are inside, peeking.

“Lucas. Lia,” he called softly. “Come say hello.”

The two children slowly approached.

I knelt down so we could see each other.

“Hello,” I said, trying to hold back tears. “I’m Rafael.”

Lucas looked at me seriously.

“Are you a friend of Mom’s?”

I looked at Althea.

It hurts. But it’s true.

“Yes,” I replied. “If he agrees.”

Lia, on the other hand, came a little closer.

“Why do you look like us?”

I couldn’t hold back my tears.

“Maybe,” I said, “because there are things I should have known a long time ago.”

The following months were not easy.

I wasn’t immediately called Papa.

Althea doesn’t immediately smile when I arrive.

Sometimes, we only meet at the park. Sometimes, outside the house. There are days when Lucas doesn’t want to talk to me. There are days when Lia is the first to run over to show me her drawing.

I sent alimony, but that’s not what I’m proud of.

I showed up.

Every check-up.

Tuwing school activity.

Whenever there is a fever.

Whenever Althea needs someone who won’t judge, won’t order, won’t leave.

A year passed before Lucas called me “Papa Raf.”

Not “Pope.”

Not yet complete.

But that was enough to make me cry in the parking lot alone.

Althea, I’m not in a hurry.

There are wounds that can’t be healed by saying sorry.

There are people you can’t force back just because you finally understood their value.

One night, while the twins were sleeping after their birthday, Althea and I sat on the veranda.

“I’m no longer the woman you left behind,” she said.

“I know.”

“I won’t be returning to your house either.”

“I won’t ask you to go back there.”

He looked at me.

“If we ever start over, it won’t be because of the children. It won’t be because of your guilt. And it won’t be because of your family name.”

I nodded.

“Just because someday, you choose me again.”

He didn’t answer.

But for the first time, he didn’t walk away.

And sometimes, healing doesn’t start with a hug.

Sometimes, it starts with a silence that no longer hurts.

Message:
Let’s not wait for someone to be gone before we listen to their pain. Love is not just about big promises, but about asking them every day: “How are you? I’m here. I won’t leave you.”