I send my mother 1.5 million pesos monthly for my postpartum wife. Coming home early, I found my wife eating spoiled rice with fish heads. Furious, I confronted my mom, who sneered, “She doesn’t deserve better.” Then, I checked the family safe and found…

you to disturb her.”

Occasionally, a desperate ache in my chest would prompt me to request Hue directly. My mother, armed with a flawless arsenal of excuses, always deflected. Hue was nursing. Hue was weeping from hormones and needed darkness. Hue was in the bath. Hue was simply too fragile for conversation.

I swallowed every fabricated alibi. Chronic continue reading …