It was a scorching afternoon in the village.

I — Hanh — was squatting, gathering dry branches to light the fire.

At the door, my ten-year-old son looked at me with his innocent eyes.

— Mom, why don’t I have a dad, like my friends?

I couldn’t answer. Ten years have passed, and I still haven’t found an answer to that question.

Years of mockery and humiliation

When I became pregnant, rumors began to spread throughout the village:

“What a disgrace! Pregnant without a husband! A disgrace to her parents!”

I gritted my teeth and endured everything.

My belly growing ever rounder, I worked wherever I could: weeding, harvesting rice, washing dishes in a small restaurant.
Some people threw garbage in front of my house, others spoke loudly as they passed me.

“The father of your child had to flee… who would want to bear such shame?”

They were unaware that the man I loved had been overjoyed to learn that I was expecting a child.

He told me he would go home to talk to his parents and ask for their blessing for our marriage.

I believed it with all my heart.

But the next day, he disappeared without a trace.

From that day on, I waited for him every morning, every evening — in vain.
Years passed, and I raised my son alone.

There were nights when I hated him for the pain he reminded me of; others when I cried, praying that his father was still alive… even though he had long since forgotten me.

Ten years of struggle

To send my son to school, I worked tirelessly.

I saved every penny, swallowed every tear.

When the other children made fun of him because he didn’t have a father, I would hug him and say:

“You have your mother, my son. And that’s all you need.”

But people’s words were like knives, piercing my heart again and again.
At night, while he slept, I stayed by the lamp, thinking about the man I had loved—his smile, his gentle eyes—and I wept silently.

The day they stopped in front of my house

One rainy morning, I was mending my son’s clothes when I heard the deafening roar of several engines.

The neighbors came out, intrigued.

In front of my modest house, several black, clean and shiny cars were lined up — clearly from the city.

The murmurs began:

“My God! These cars are worth millions!”

Trembling, I took my son’s hand and left.

The door of a car opened. An old man with white hair, dressed in a black suit, got out. His eyes were full of tears.

He looked at me for a long time, then, before I could say a word, he knelt down in the mud.

I froze.

— Please, get up! What are you doing?

He took my hand, his voice trembling:

“Ten years… Ten years I’ve been looking for you and my grandson.”

The whole village froze.

— My… grandson? I whispered, my voice breaking.

He pulled out an old photo — the face of the man I had loved.
It was him. Exactly the same.

The tears flowed uncontrollably.

The old man then told me: the day I announced my pregnancy, his son was overjoyed and rushed to get his parents’ blessing and prepare for the wedding.

But on the way back… he had a car accident.
And he died that day.

For ten years, his father had relentlessly searched for me.

It was only by consulting old hospital records that he found my name.
He had traveled through several provinces before stumbling upon our house.

### The truth that made the whole village cry

The old man turned towards the cars.
A driver got out and opened a door.

On the side of the vehicle, one could read the logo of the **Lâm Gia Group** — the largest company in the country.

People were stunned.

“My God… this child is President Lâm’s only grandson!” the neighbors whispered.

The old man approached my son, took his hand and, with tears in his eyes, said:

“From today onward, my boy, you will never suffer again. You are of the blood of the Lâm.”

I stood there in tears, feeling the weight of those years gradually lift away.

The looks that once scorned me have now been lowered.
Some neighbors have even knelt down to ask my forgiveness.

—

When my son and I left the village, the rain started again — just like it did ten years ago.

But this time, I no longer saw it as a curse.

I now know that, even if the world despises you, if you remain faithful and strong, the truth always triumphs in the end.

I, the mother whom everyone once ridiculed, now walk with my head held high, holding my son’s hand, a peaceful smile on my lips.