A woman’s value to them was so small — measured solely by the sex of the child.

I looked at Marco, expecting him to disagree, but he just kept his head down, not even looking at me.

That night, as I gazed out the windows of their house that I used to call “home,” I knew it was over.

Even though I had my husband’s child in my womb, I couldn’t sustain a life filled with hatred and discrimination.

The next morning, I went to city hall, got the legal separation papers, and signed them right away.

As I walked out of the building, I cried — but there was a strange lightness in my chest.

Not because I was no longer in pain, but because I had chosen to be free for my child.

I left with nothing but everyday clothes, a few baby items, and courage.

I worked in Cebu as a receptionist at a small clinic, and as my belly grew, I learned to laugh again.