In 2007, his younger brother went missing. His parents searched for him for 18 years but in vain. One day, while on a business trip, his older brother saw a waiter and burst into tears…

In 2007, his younger brother went missing. His parents searched for him for 18 years but in vain. One day, while on a business trip, his older brother saw a waiter and burst into tears…

In 2007, when I was in 9th grade, my family was engulfed in an unforgettable incident. That day, my mother took my younger brother – Huy, who was just 4 years old – to the market. In the midst of the crowded crowd, in just a moment of carelessness, he disappeared without a trace.

The parents immediately reported the news and searched everywhere. From the village to the neighboring provinces, and even to strange places. Whenever they heard someone said they saw a child who looked like Huy, the parents hurriedly set out. But each time they returned, they were in tears.

For 18 years, our house was never completely locked. My mother believed that if Huy found his way back, he would walk in as if he had never left. My father quietly kept his old bicycle, occasionally cleaning it, as a reminder that one day it would be used again.

I grew up with that pain. Every time I saw my mother crying at the altar, I silently promised:  If one day I meet her again, I will definitely bring her back at all costs.

Last April, I went on a business trip to a big city. In the evening, after a meeting, my colleagues and I stopped at a small restaurant. The waiter came out, thin, pale-faced but with eyes… that made my heart flutter.

I had seen that look in old photos. The small scar on the right eyebrow – the exact scar Huy left after falling off his bike. I stood up trembling, choking back tears as I called out:

“Huy! Are you Huy?”

The young man was startled and looked at me in confusion. A moment later, his lips trembled:
“You… know me?”

I rushed to hug him, bursting into tears. But he just stood there, his body stiff, his eyes bewildered like a strange child.

After I calmed down, we sat down and talked. She told me that she had been taken away from home since she was little, with no one by her side, living from place to place. They gave her a different name, and made her do odd jobs from a young age. Her early memories gradually faded, only remaining as fragments.

“Sometimes… I dream of a house with laughter, a woman cooking, a man carrying me, and a bigger boy holding my hand running in the yard. But then I wake up, and everything is gone. I don’t know if it was a dream or reality…”

I hugged him tightly, crying and saying:
“That’s not a dream, Huy. That’s your memory. That woman is your mother, that man is your father, and that boy is me. We’ve been looking for you for 18 years.”

Her eyes were red, but she just shook her head:
“I’m sorry… I can’t remember. I want to believe, but my mind is so blank…”

The day Huy was brought home, my parents almost collapsed. My mother hugged him and cried:
“My son, I have been looking for you for 18 years… Do you miss me?”

But Huy just stood still, his hands fumbling, his eyes hazy. He looked at his mother, then at his father, then at me, and softly muttered:
“I’m sorry… I don’t remember.”

The house was filled with tears that day, but not with complete joy. The parents held their son in their arms, but their hearts ached because their son had no memory of the old home.

In the days that followed, his mother patiently told Huy about each memory, showing him pictures from when he was a child. Sometimes, Huy smiled briefly, as if a distant memory had just flashed, but then disappeared again.

One evening, I took Huy to the yard. I put a small ball in his hand and whispered,
“Back then, you loved playing soccer with me. Do you remember?”

Huy looked at the ball for a long time, tears falling down, softly said:
“I… really want to remember. But why is it so difficult…”

I hugged her, feeling both heartbroken and grateful that at least fate had brought her back in flesh and blood, even though her memories were no longer intact.

After 18 years of waiting, my family got Huy back, but not exactly as we expected. He was still there, still eating with us, still sitting and listening to our parents tell stories, but the invisible distance of stolen memories made everyone choke up.

However, there is one thing I am sure of: family love does not only exist in memories, but also in every drop of blood, in every heartbeat. Whether Huy remembers or not, he will always be my little brother, the son of my parents, the irreplaceable piece.

And every time I think about that fateful night at that strange restaurant, I still shed tears. Sometimes, life doesn’t give us everything in return, but just having each other, even with vague memories, is already a miracle.