After half a year of my husband’s death, I was planning to remarry to have someone to support me. But suddenly, for the past week, my 4-year-old child kept coming home from school and boasting: ‘I got to see my dad at school.’ I secretly followed him and felt a chill down my spine when I saw…

My husband passed away half a year ago, leaving me and our 4-year-old child alone. Raising the child alone, working and struggling to make ends meet, there were times when I thought I was going to collapse. Thinking back and forth, I also considered remarrying, so that my child would have someone to call “father” and rely on.

Yet for the past week, every day when he comes home from school, he shows off to me:

“Mom, I got to see dad at school today. He even patted my head and told me to be good!”

Hearing my son talk, I could only smile awkwardly. I thought he must have been hallucinating because he missed his father so much. But then, his story became more and more detailed: from the white shirt, the faint smell of cigarettes, to the familiar way he patted my shoulder… everything was exactly like my late husband.

That night, I couldn’t sleep. The next morning, I decided to secretly follow my child to kindergarten.

Around noon, when the children had just finished school, my daughter happily ran out the gate, smiling from ear to ear:

“Dad!”

I felt a chill down my spine, my heart stopped beating. In front of me, there was indeed a man… his figure, hair, eyes were exactly like my husband’s! He bent down to pick up my child, his deep voice resounded as if he had come back from the dead.

I walked forward, trembling, and just then, the man looked up, his eyes meeting mine. And then—oh my God!—his face was exactly like my husband’s, but on his left cheek was  a long scar … something my husband had never had before.

I was stunned, before I could say anything, a voice called from behind:

“Hurry up, brother! It’s time!”

A strange woman ran up and grabbed his hand. At that moment, he hastily whispered to me:

“Sorry… maybe it’s time you knew the truth. He… never died.”

I was stunned, all the sounds around me seemed to disappear, only the sound of my heart beating rapidly remained.

“What… did you say?” – I stammered, my eyes still glued to that face, where every line, every gesture was exactly like my husband’s, only different because of that strange scar.

The man glanced at the woman waiting, then turned back and said quickly:
“You… come to the coffee shop at the end of the alley, 8 o’clock tonight. I will tell you everything. But please don’t let anyone else know.”

Having said that, he put my daughter down, gently patted her head, and hurriedly left with the other woman. I was shocked, my mind spinning with a series of questions: If he was my husband, why had I lived in pain for the past six months? Why did he let my mother and I suffer loss? And if he wasn’t, then why did he look so much like me that every breath made me tremble?

That evening, I left my child with my grandmother and went to the coffee shop. Sitting in a secluded corner, I saw him walk in, wearing a loose coat and a baseball cap. When I pulled up a chair opposite him, he took off his cap and sighed:

“I am Minh… your husband. But people now know me as Hoang.”

I choked, unable to believe it:
“You… are still alive? Why? Why did you abandon me and my child?”

Minh held my hand tightly, his eyes filled with remorse:
“Half a year ago, that car accident… was not a coincidence. I was hunted down because I accidentally discovered a money laundering and drug trafficking ring of a group of powerful people. That night, someone intentionally pushed me into the accident. I was rescued by an undercover police officer and put into the witness protection program. They staged my death so that the group would not search for my whereabouts. I had to change my identity, live in hiding, and not contact anyone, including you and the child.”

He lowered his head, his voice choked:
“This scar is from that day. Many times I wanted to break the rules to come back to find you, but I was afraid… afraid of getting you and your mother involved.”

Tears welled up in my eyes, both angry and sympathetic:
“Do you know how I have lived for the past six months? Every night my daughter cried for her father!”

Minh squeezed my hand tighter:
“I know… and I’m sorry. The case is almost closed now, but there are still some people who have not been caught. I risked meeting you today because… I found out they were following her. They think you know something about me. You and the baby need to leave now.”

I was stunned:
“Are you going to… go with me and my mother?”

Minh shook his head slightly, his eyes red:
“Not yet. I have to stay to complete my statement and cooperate with the police to arrest them all. When everything is done, I will return… this time forever.”

He pulled out a necklace from his pocket – the one I gave him on our wedding day – and placed it in my hand:
“Keep it, to remember that I will never leave you and the baby. Trust me.”

Two weeks later, my son and I moved to another city under the police’s arrangement. Occasionally, I received postcards without names, only the familiar words: “I’m still here.”

I live in hope, waiting for the day when the man with the scar on his cheek will walk through the door, hold my mother and I in his arms, and we will never have to be apart again.

And I know, no matter how long, I will wait… because you promised.