Screengrab from Can I Come In?

Actress Liza Soberano has confirmed that her long-speculated breakup with actor Enrique Gil happened almost three years ago—a truth she admitted she had been holding back for a long time.

Speaking on the Can I Come In? podcast on Thursday, August 14, Soberano candidly told filmmaker Sarah Bahbah, “I’ve been itching to tell people this because I haven’t been very truthful. Quen hasn’t been very truthful. Quen and I broke up… we’ve been broken up for almost three years now.”

According to Soberano, the initial decision to stay silent was made at Gil’s request, and both of them were reluctant to accept the reality of their split. She acknowledged her own tendency to “people please,” admitting she feared her career and public image might suffer if fans knew the relationship had ended.

“I also didn’t want it to be real,” she shared. “I was so afraid that if people found out we weren’t together anymore, people just wouldn’t love me anymore.”

Soberano said she once imagined their love story would end in marriage, but over time, they realized they “weren’t a match anymore.” She described the breakup as “beautiful,” still full of love and mutual respect, and expressed nothing but admiration for Gil, whom she called her “childhood best friend.”

Despite the public’s hopes, Soberano admitted to carrying guilt for not holding on. “He didn’t do anything bad. Nothing bad happened. Our breakup was really good—it was just that we weren’t a match anymore.”

But beyond her high-profile romance, Soberano also opened up about a far more personal and painful chapter in her life: her difficult childhood in the United States. Born in Santa Clara, California in 1998, she recalled growing up with parents struggling with drug addiction and eventually entering the foster care system.

In heartbreaking detail, she recounted the abuse she endured in one foster home—being excluded from family activities, called “the family dog,” forced into humiliating situations, and at times denied food for days. She remembered one night being made to sleep in a cold, dark garage, threatened with harm to her younger brother if she cried out.

Her silence in those years, she said, came from a child’s instinct to believe adults who claimed to love her. It wasn’t until a social worker made an unannounced visit—witnessing her bloated stomach from malnutrition and visible bruises—that the abuse came to light.

Soberano’s revelations weave together two very different but deeply human experiences—her private heartbreak with Gil, and the formative pain of her early years. Both stories, told now in her own words, offer a clearer picture of a woman who has lived through silence, learned to speak her truth, and continues to grow from it.