Coming back to the countryside suddenly, we found my father lying there, wheezing. My husband rushed in and let out a heartbreaking cry.

Long and Ha have become accustomed to the hustle and bustle of the city, where each day is a non-stop race. Skyscrapers, long meetings, projects that consume all their time and energy. Life is full and comfortable, but sometimes, in rare moments of silence, an invisible emptiness creeps into their souls. It has been almost two years since they have been back home. Weekly phone calls, repeated inquiries: “How are you, Mom and Dad?”, “What’s new at home?”, are all answered with familiar reassurance: “Mom and Dad are fine, you can work with peace of mind.”

One hot summer evening, Tung, after a long day of hard work, sat absent-mindedly in front of the computer screen. Numbers and charts danced before his eyes, but his mind drifted to a faraway place: the small house with tall areca trees at the end of the village road. Minh, his wife, placed a glass of cool orange juice on the table. She sat down across from him, looking deeply into her husband’s tired eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Minh asked softly.

Tung shook his head, but then sighed. “Nothing. It’s just… I suddenly miss home so much. I miss my parents.”

Minh was silent. She knew that behind his strong and decisive appearance at work, Tung was still a dutiful son, always tormented by not being able to be close to his parents.

“Then let’s go home,” Minh said, his voice resolute. “No need to wait for a holiday or Tet. Let’s just go home.”

The decision was made quickly. The next day, they put aside all work and hit the road. The car glided smoothly on the familiar road. Tung still drove, but not as hastily as on business trips. He was calmer, his eyes attentively looking at each row of trees, each piece of land along the road. Minh sat next to him, holding his hand tightly, feeling the peace gradually returning to his heart.

As the car turned onto the small gravel road, Tung suddenly felt his heart sink. The scenery was exactly as he remembered it, only it felt strange, as if he had forgotten it for too long. The old wooden gate opened, and his mother, Mrs. Lua, stood there, visibly thinner. She ran out, hugging Tung and Minh tightly, her eyes red.

“You’re back! Why didn’t you tell me in advance?” – Mom said, her voice filled with joy but also sadness.

His father, Mr. Phien, slowly walked out. He just smiled kindly and patted his son on the shoulder, but Tung felt the weakness in that pat. He was thin, his eyes were sunken, and his face was lined with fatigue.

Bữa cơm chiều hôm ấy, dù giản dị nhưng ấm áp vô cùng. Mẹ anh nấu toàn những món Tùng và Minh thích. Tùng cố gắng nói chuyện thật nhiều, kể những câu chuyện vui ở thành phố, để làm bố mẹ vui. Nhưng anh luôn thấy một điều gì đó không ổn. Bố anh ăn rất ít, và thỉnh thoảng lại ho khan. Mỗi lần như vậy, ông lại vội vàng lấy tay che miệng, cố gắng nén tiếng ho lại. Mẹ anh nhìn bố với ánh mắt lo lắng, bà lén nhíu mày, nhưng không nói một lời nào.

Đêm đó, khi mọi thứ đã chìm vào giấc ngủ, Tùng không tài nào chợp mắt được. Tiếng ho của bố anh từ phòng bên cạnh cứ văng vẳng, lúc ngắt quãng, lúc lại dồn dập. Tùng biết, có điều gì đó không ổn. Anh khẽ khàng đi ra ngoài, tiến về phía phòng bố mẹ. Cánh cửa hé mở, ánh sáng lờ mờ hắt ra. Anh thấy mẹ đang ngồi bên giường, lấy khăn ấm đắp lên ngực bố. Bố anh thở dốc, khuôn mặt tái nhợt.

“Ông cứ thế này thì làm sao mà chịu được?” – Mẹ anh thì thầm, giọng nghẹn lại. “Cứ ho suốt ngày đêm. Tôi đã bảo ông đi khám, ông cứ không chịu.”

“Tôi đi làm gì, tốn kém tiền của. Vợ chồng Tùng bận rộn, làm sao về được? Tôi chỉ bị ho gió một chút thôi, vài ngày rồi sẽ khỏi.” – Bố anh thều thào.

Tùng đứng sững lại. Trái tim anh như bị ai bóp nghẹt. Nước mắt anh lăn dài trên má. Anh hít một hơi thật sâu, gõ cửa, rồi bước vào.

“Bố, mẹ… bố bị làm sao vậy?” – Tùng hỏi, giọng run run.

Bố mẹ anh giật mình. Bố anh cố gắng ngồi thẳng dậy, che giấu sự yếu đuối của mình.

“Tùng đấy à? Bố không sao. Chỉ là hơi khó thở một chút thôi.”

“Không sao sao được?” – Tùng tiến đến, quỳ xuống bên giường, nắm lấy bàn tay gầy guộc của bố. “Con nghe tiếng bố ho cả đêm. Tại sao bố lại giấu chúng con?”

Bố anh im lặng, cúi gằm mặt xuống. Mẹ anh không kìm được nữa, bà bật khóc nức nở.

“Con đừng trách bố. Bố thương các con, không muốn các con lo lắng mà bỏ dở công việc. Bố nghĩ rằng mình sẽ khỏe lại, không muốn làm phiền các con.” – Mẹ anh nức nở.

“Bố mẹ ơi, bố mẹ nói như thế là làm khổ chúng con đấy!” – Tùng nghẹn ngào, ôm chặt lấy tay bố. “Công việc có quan trọng đến đâu, cũng không bằng bố mẹ. Bố mẹ là tất cả của chúng con. Đừng làm như thế nữa, con xin bố mẹ!”

Sáng hôm sau, bất chấp sự phản đối yếu ớt của bố, Tùng và Minh vẫn kiên quyết đưa ông lên bệnh viện tỉnh. Trên đường đi, Tùng liên tục nhìn vào gương chiếu hậu, thấy bố anh ngồi ở ghế sau, lẳng lặng nhìn ra ngoài cửa sổ. Anh biết bố đang buồn, đang lo lắng. Nhưng anh cũng biết, đây là việc đúng đắn duy nhất mà anh có thể làm.

Tại bệnh viện, sau khi làm đủ các xét nghiệm, bác sĩ chẩn đoán bố anh bị viêm phổi nặng. May mắn thay, bệnh được phát hiện sớm và có thể chữa khỏi hoàn toàn. Cả Tùng và Minh đều thở phào nhẹ nhõm. Nỗi sợ hãi đã đè nặng trong lòng họ suốt mấy ngày qua cuối cùng cũng được giải tỏa.

Trong phòng bệnh, Tùng ngồi bên giường, nhìn bố anh chìm vào giấc ngủ. Anh chợt nhận ra rằng, những năm tháng tuổi trẻ của anh đã trôi qua quá nhanh. Anh đã mải mê với công việc, với những tham vọng của bản thân mà quên mất những điều giản dị, thiêng liêng nhất. Anh đã bỏ lỡ biết bao nhiêu khoảnh khắc quý giá.

“Mr. Tung,” Minh said softly, as Tung remained motionless. “Let’s bring our parents up to live with us.”

Tung raised his head and looked at his wife. He had intended to do this for a long time, but was still hesitant.

“I think so too. But… will my parents agree?” – Tung wondered.

Minh smiled, squeezing his hand. “We will convince our parents. We will tell them that we need them, not that they need us.”

When his father was discharged from the hospital, Tung and Minh had prepared a thoughtful plan. They took his parents to their apartment in the city. His parents were initially surprised, then refused.

“No, kids,” Tung’s mother said. “We’re used to living in the countryside. How can we adapt there? Besides, going there will only bother you.”

“Mom, it’s not a bother,” Minh said gently. “Our apartment has enough room for you two. When you come up there, I’ll have someone to keep me company, and Tung will have someone to talk to every night. I’ll learn to cook your hometown dishes. When you come up here, the house will truly be home.”

Tung looked at his father, seeing his hesitant eyes. “Dad, I know you love your homeland, love this land. But please think of us. We need our parents to be there to take care of us, to love us. Our parents are our family, without them, we cannot be completely happy.”

Tung and Minh’s sincere words moved his parents. Finally, they agreed. On the day they left their hometown, both parents could not hold back their tears. But they knew that a new life was waiting for them.

The family’s life in the city began. Tung and Minh’s apartment became warmer, filled with laughter. In the morning, Minh and her mother went to the market together. Her mother showed her how to choose clean vegetables and fresh food. In the afternoon, Tung sat next to her father, showing him how to use the tablet, how to surf the web, and read the newspaper. He enjoyed it so much, giggling like a child.

On weekend evenings, the whole family gathered around the dinner table and chatted together. His father told stories of the past, Tung told stories of work, Minh told stories of new friends. The stories continued one after another, endlessly. The feeling of being together, being cared for, being loved made Tung and Minh feel very lucky.

One evening, while watching TV, Tung heard his father coughing. Startled, he quickly ran over. His father smiled.

“It’s okay,” Dad said, his voice much stronger than before. “It’s just a cough. I’m fine.”

Tung breathed a sigh of relief. He held his father’s hand tightly. He felt extremely happy. Happy because he had returned in time, in time to realize the most important things. Life still had many difficulties, but for Tung and Minh, the greatest happiness was not success in their careers, but peaceful moments with their families. They had shown their gratitude and love in time, before it was too late. And they knew, that was the most precious gift that life had given them.