On a sweltering afternoon in the village, I—Hanh—was bent over, gathering dry branches to kindle a fire. My ten-year-old son stood by the doorway, his innocent eyes fixed on me.
“Mom, why don’t I have a father like the other kids?” he asked softly. I found myself speechless. Even after ten years, I have yet to find an answer to such a heartfelt question.
When news of my pregnancy spread, whispers and judgments flew throughout the entire town:
- “How disgraceful! Pregnant without a husband! Shame on her family!”
Clenching my teeth, I endured every harsh word. As my belly grew heavier, I took any work I could find—removing weeds, harvesting rice, washing dishes at a roadside diner.
Some left trash outside my home; others loudly speculated when I passed by:
“The father surely ran away… who would want to claim such dishonor?”
They never realized that the man I loved had been overjoyed upon learning I was expecting. He promised to return, speak with his parents, and ask for their blessings so we could marry. His words earned my unwavering trust.
Yet, the very next day, he vanished without a trace. From that moment onward, I awaited his return every single day—no news, no messages.
Years went by as I raised my son alone. Some nights, anger surged within me, fueled by pain; others, tears fell silently as I prayed he was still alive, even if he had forgotten us.
To send my son to school, I worked tirelessly, saving every coin and swallowing every sorrow. When other children mocked him for lacking a father, I embraced him tightly and reassured:
- “You have your mother, my son. That is all you truly need.”
Still, the villagers’ cruel words pierced my heart time and again. At night, while my boy slept, I would stare into the lamp’s glow, recalling the warmth in his father’s eyes and his smile, shedding quiet tears.
One rainy morning, while sewing my son’s clothes, a roar of engines shattered the silence. Curious neighbors stepped outside. In front of my modest home, several sleek black cars gleamed under the gray sky—obviously vehicles from the city.
Whispers spread:
- “Goodness, who owns these cars? Each must cost a fortune!”
Trembling, I held my son’s hand and stepped outside. A white-haired elderly man, dressed in a black suit and eyes brimming with tears, exited one car. His gaze fixed on me. Before I could speak, he knelt down in the mud.
Frozen, I stammered, “Please, stand up. What are you doing?”
His voice shook as he took my hand:
“After ten years, I have finally found you—and my grandson.”
The entire village fell silent.
“Grandson…?” I whispered, barely audible. He produced an old photo depicting the man I loved—his features unmistakably identical to my son’s.
Tears overwhelmed me. The elder explained that on the day I informed his son of the pregnancy, the young man was overjoyed and hurried to ask for his parents’ blessing and plan our wedding.
Tragically, while returning to me, he was involved in a fatal car accident and died the same day. For ten years, he tirelessly searched for us. By examining hospital records and traveling through provinces, the old man traced my name and found us at last.
He glanced toward the cars. A chauffeur stepped out and opened a door, revealing a badge of “Lâm Gia Group”—the country’s largest corporation.
Neighbors whispered in astonishment:
- “My goodness… this boy is the only grandson of President Lâm!”
The elder approached my son, grasped his hand, and tearfully said:
“From this day forward, you shall suffer no more. You are the flesh and blood of the Lâm family.”
Standing there, tears streaming down, I felt the immense weight of those years lifting from my shoulders. The very same villagers who scorned me now averted their eyes in shame. Some even knelt, seeking forgiveness.
When my son and I departed the village, raindrops fell once again—just like ten years ago. But this time, the rain did not feel like a curse.
I have learned that, despite the world’s scorn, remaining steadfast and true allows truth to rise and shine. Once mocked by all as a single mother, I now walk proudly, holding my son’s hand and smiling peacefully.
In conclusion, this story highlights the enduring strength of a mother’s love and the unexpected turns life can take when truth finally emerges. It serves as a powerful reminder to persevere amid challenges, for justice and happiness may await beyond adversity.