Once a Wife [English Version]

Chapter 38

"Why?" Tristan's voice was sharp—shaking, like a thread about to snap.

He had rushed home, heart pounding, every breath tight with anger and ache. The moment he stepped into the condo, he saw Talia standing by the dining table, arranging plates.

His hands gripped the back of a chair so hard his knuckles turned white. "Why did you say those things to her?"

Talia froze. The sound of porcelain against wood stilled midair.

When she turned, her son was standing there—jaw clenched, eyes blazing with a kind of pain she had never seen before.

It was the first time she had seen him angry.
Truly angry.

"Anak—"

"She came to me," he cut her off, his voice breaking. "She gave me back the ring, Ma. She walked away." He swallowed hard, chest heaving. "Do you even know what that felt like? After everything—after all I've done to hold us together—she just... left."

Talia's heart clenched. But she didn't interrupt. She let him speak, let him pour out what he'd been holding for too long.

"I stayed, Ma. I fought for her when even she stopped fighting for herself. I carried her pain. I carried every silence, every wall she built." His voice trembled. "And now she thinks she's too broken for me."

He looked up at his mother, voice cracking. "You told her to let go. And now... she did."

The room went silent.

Only the sound of his unsteady breathing filled the space.

Then Talia stepped closer, her voice calm but steady. "Anak, this is the first time I've seen you like this—angry, hopeless, tired."

She tried to cup his face, but he turned away, pacing the floor like a man caged by his own love.

"Because it's useless!" Tristan snapped. "All of it. Loving her, fighting for her—what's the point if she'll never stay?" His voice broke as he pressed his palms to his eyes. "What's the point, Ma?"

Talia waited. Let the silence breathe.

Then she said softly, "The point, anak, is love. But love isn't control. Love isn't forcing someone to heal just because you're ready. You love her so much you've gone blind. You're trying to save her when you were never meant to be her savior."

Tristan froze, chest rising and falling fast.

"You care so deeply," Talia continued, "but you've forgotten how to surrender. You're carrying her healing when only God can do that."

Her words hit something deep inside him.
He stumbled toward the couch, his strength finally cracking under the truth.

He sat down and buried his face in his hands.
For the first time, he said it—to his mother, and to himself.

He was tired.

Talia knelt in front of him, taking his trembling hands in hers. "No one's asking you to stop loving Maricar. You still love her—and that's okay. But love her enough to give her space. Love her enough to let God do what you can't."

She squeezed his hands gently. "Because if you keep holding her this way, anak... you'll both drown."

Tristan's tears fell freely now, quiet but relentless. He didn't answer. Talia wrapped her arms around him, holding him like she did when he was a boy.

"You're not losing her, anak," she whispered. "You're just letting God hold her this time."

He breathed shakily. "I'm scared, Ma."

Her brows furrowed. "Scared of what, anak?"

He swallowed hard, voice trembling. "That in the end... I'll lose everything I prayed for. The family I begged God for. Maricar... the kids... all of it. What if no matter how much I fight, how much I love them... they still slip away from me?"

Talia's eyes softened with grief and understanding.
She placed her hand over his.

"That fear is real," she said quietly. "But you can't lead your family by fear. You can love them, yes—but you can't play God. You don't hold everything, anak. You don't hold Maricar's heart. You don't hold your children's future. Only God does."

Tristan shook his head, tears spilling. "But what if love isn't enough?"

"Love is enough," Talia said, her voice firm but tender. "But not just yours. It has to be God's love working through you. The family you prayed for—He gave that to you. And if He gave it, do you really think He'll take it away for no reason?"

His chest tightened, every breath jagged. And then, as if the weight finally became too much to bear, he exhaled and let it fall.

"I don't know how to do this anymore, Ma," he whispered. "I thought I was strong enough. But right now, it feels like I'm losing control of everything. And the thought of losing them... of losing her—it's killing me."

Talia gently pulled his hands away from his face, her thumbs brushing away his tears.

"Listen to me, anak," she said softly. "You were never meant to carry this alone. Strength isn't about holding everything together—it's about knowing Who's holding you."

And that broke him. Every wall, every defense, every desperate attempt to stay strong—gone.

"Then what do I do, Ma?" His voice was almost a whisper. "Tell me... what do I do?"

"You pray," she said. "Not the kind of prayer that demands answers... but the kind that surrenders."

Her voice trembled, but her words didn't. "Anak, pray to the One who gave you this family in the first place. Because if you love them this much—imagine how much more God does."

And that was it. That was the breaking point.

Tristan dropped to his knees, right there in front of his mother. His hands clasped, his body shaking.

"Lord... I'm tired," he whispered, voice cracking under the weight of surrender. "I can't fix this. I can't fix her. I can't even fix myself. But please... don't let me lose them. Don't let me lose the family I prayed for. I surrender, Lord. Help me trust You. Even when it hurts. Even when it feels impossible. I'll hold on to You."

Talia's tears flowed silently as she laid her hands on his shoulders. She prayed with him—quietly, fervently, a mother interceding for her son.

"That's it, anak," she whispered. "You don't have to be enough. God already is."

And in that still moment— Tristan wept.

Not out of defeat, but out of release.

For the first time, he wasn't fighting to control.

He was finally learning to let go.