It was an unbearably hot afternoon in our small village. I, Hanh, crouched down gathering dry branches to kindle a fire.
By the doorway, my ten-year-old son watched me, his eyes filled with innocence.
“Mom, why don’t I have a father like the other kids?” he asked softly.
For years now, I’ve been unable to find the right answer to this innocent question.
Back when I discovered I was pregnant, whispers and gossip raced through the village swiftly:
- “What a shame! Pregnant without a husband! Such dishonor to her family!”
I clenched my teeth and endured all the ridicule.
With my growing belly, I took on any labor I could find: clearing weeds, harvesting rice, washing dishes at a local eatery.
Some neighbors littered trash outside my house; others loudly speculated as I passed by:
“Surely, the father ran away… who would take responsibility for such disgrace?”
They did not know the man I loved had felt nothing but joy upon learning of my pregnancy.
He promised to return home to seek his parents’ blessing so we could wed.
I believed him wholeheartedly.
Yet, the very next day, he vanished without leaving a trace.
Since that day, I waited constantly—no messages, no news.
Years went by, and I raised my son alone.
Some nights, I resented him for the pain he reminded me of; others, I quietly wept and wished his father was still alive—even if he had forgotten us.
To afford my son’s schooling, I toiled relentlessly, saving every coin and swallowing back countless tears.
When other children mocked my boy for lacking a father, I held him close and reassured him:
“You have me, and that’s enough.”
Enduring harsh judgment from others felt like a constant, piercing wound in my heart.
At night, when my son slept peacefully, I gazed at the flickering lamp light, recalling the man I once loved—his warm smile and kind eyes—and silently cried.
One rainy morning, while mending my son’s clothes, an abrupt roar of engines filled the air.
Curious neighbors gathered around.
Several sleek, black cars glistened as they parked outside our humble home—undeniably from the city.
Murmurs spread:
- “Oh my God! Who owns these luxury cars? Each must be worth millions!”
Trembling, I grasped my son’s hand and stepped outside.
A door opened, and an elderly man with snow-white hair and tears in his eyes gracefully descended.
He fixed his gaze on me, and before I could utter a word, he dropped to his knees in the dirt.
Frozen with shock, I stammered:
“Please rise! What are you doing?”
His trembling voice held my hand tightly as he said:
“After ten years, I have finally found you and my grandson.”
The entire village was stunned into silence.
“Grandson…?” I whispered weakly.
He revealed an old photo—the familiar face of the man I loved, unmistakably similar to my son.
Tears spilled uncontrollably from me.
The old man explained that when I told his son about the pregnancy, his joy was boundless. He hurried to seek permission for our marriage from his parents.
Tragically, on his way back, he was involved in a fatal car accident and died that very day.
For a decade, he had searched tirelessly.
Only recently, after reviewing hospital archives, did the old man discover my name and track us down after traveling across provinces.
He glanced at the cars; a chauffeur exited one and opened its door, revealing the emblem of “Lâm Gia Group”—the nation’s largest corporation.
- Neighbors whispered in disbelief: “That boy is the sole grandson of President Lâm!”
The elderly gentleman approached my son, took his hand, and tearfully declared:
“From this day forward, you will no longer suffer. You belong to the Lâm family.”
I stood there, tears streaming, feeling years of burden lifting.
The once scornful eyes of villagers now lowered in shame.
Some even knelt, begging for forgiveness.
As my son and I left the village, rain fell once more—much like a decade before.
This time, however, the rain did not feel like a curse.
I now understand that even when the world turns its back on you, staying steadfast and true brings the truth to light.
I am a mother who was once laughed at by all.
Today, I carry my son’s hand proudly, my heart filled with peace and my head held high, wearing a gentle smile.
In summary, this story reflects profound resilience and the triumph of truth over societal judgment. Despite a decade of hardship and misunderstanding, unwavering love and determination ultimately led to reunion and acceptance, illustrating that perseverance can illuminate one’s path even through darkness.