The husband brought his mistress and stepson back after 3 years of separation, unexpectedly his wife – who used to carry the burden of the whole family – had a handling that made both of them silent…

Three years of waiting for her husband to return from a distant land, she exhausted her energy to keep a home, support her mother-in-law, and teach her children to be human. But then one early winter morning, the door opened, not only picking up the man who had been her whole sky, but also welcoming a strange woman and the baby who called him daddy. Everyone is waiting to see how angry that wife will be. But what she did made everyone silent…

“You just go, I’ll wait…”
, that sentence, three years ago, she said in a voice full of trust and love, when she saw him off at the airport to Japan to work in labor cooperation for 3 years. At that time, the family was not well-off, the child was only two years old, and her mother-in-law was constantly sick. He decided to work far away in hopes of having money to build a house and give his children a decent education. She didn’t stop, just nodded quietly:
“I’ll take care of it.”

Three years, 36 months, more than 1,000 nights, she is both a mother and a father. Every morning, she gets up at 4 o’clock to cook rice, take care of her mother-in-law, take her children to class, and then work an 8-hour shift at a garment company. In the evening, he comes home to clean, do laundry, teach his children to study, and stay up late to chat with his husband through the phone screen – when he remembered to call.

In the beginning, he texted and made video calls every day. But then the calls faded. He said he was busy, then tired, then lost sleep… She began to feel worried, but still reassured herself: “It must be a lot of work.”

Her mother-in-law was getting weaker and often hospitalized. She borrowed money to run for treatment, not daring to inform her husband for fear that he would worry. Every time she has money sent back, she deducts most of it to save money to build a house, the remaining small part goes to medicine, raising children, and paying for school.

It is said that a woman waiting for her husband is a creeping lamp in the wind. The wind can’t be extinguished, but it causes the lights to wear out.

Three years ended. She prepares everything: cleaning the house, placing trays, taking her children to get a haircut. She was excited: “Mom, Dad is back, I don’t sleep alone anymore!”
She laughed, tears welling up in her eyes.

Then that day came. The taxi stopped in front of the door. She picked up her child. He stepped down—not alone.

Accompanying him was a woman in her thirties, slender, holding a boy about four years old. The boy looked very much like him.

No one said anything. She was dumbfounded.
My mother-in-law looked out from inside the house, her hands trembling against the door frame. Neighbors began to gather, whisper…

He walked forward hesitantly. His eyes didn’t dare to look straight.
“You… sorry… This… He didn’t intend to do that. But… I will be responsible for both my mother and children…”

The other woman lowered her head, her eyes were red.
She didn’t cry. Don’t scream. No hitting, no beating, no cursing.

He just said quietly:
“Come into the house. Let’s eat. Then talk.”

That sentence stunned everyone. The neighbors talked:
“Oh my God, I was betrayed so much, but I still went to cook rice and invited you into the house?”
“This girl must be too gentle, or it hurts to the point of petrification.”

She went into the kitchen, cleaned the tray of rice that had been prepared since the morning – there were still 5 people.
On the table, there was sour snakehead fish soup that he liked, fried eggs that she loved, and black bean tea that her mother-in-law often ate.

Everyone sat at the table, only she stood up and cooked rice for each person like a landlord who still takes care of each member.

The atmosphere seemed to stop. No one dared to pick up chopsticks. Brother Li:
“I… Don’t be like that. I know you’re wrong…”

She looked at him, for the first time in 30 minutes:
“You eat. Then talk about it later.”

When the meal was finished, she took her mother-in-law to the room to rest, then carried the child to her grandmother’s house. When she returned, she sat in front of him and the other woman. Slowly, clearly:
“I chose. I don’t need to explain. I only asked one thing: Do you have a place to go?”

The other woman was in tears: “I… there is no one in Vietnam. My mother died, my father left at a young age. I only have him.”

She nodded:
“Then stay here for a few days. Give him stability. I’ll go.”

He jumped up: “No! You are the one who has the right to stay here! This house has been borne by me for many years!”

She turned to him, her voice cold:
“So I know my worth. I chose to leave because I didn’t need to fight. I used to wait for you for 3 years, I sacrificed my whole youth, I used to think that as long as you come back, all difficulties can be overcome. But today, I understand: people only return to the so-called ‘home’ when the place is still loving.”

And she got up, walked up to her room, grabbed a small suitcase, and brought only a few clothes, papers, and an old photo album. Before leaving the house, she said a sentence that made the whole neighborhood remember forever:

“I don’t need to win anyone in a war, when I don’t want to stay on that battlefield anymore.”

After that day, the house, although full of people, lacked warmth. The other woman – named Mai – tried to blend in, tried to take care of her mother-in-law and stepchild. But everything is awkward. His mother, from a sick person who had relied on her daughter-in-law, now said nothing but lay quietly in her room, occasionally asking a single question:

“It… How are you?”
He only knew how to be silent.

His daughter – baby An – didn’t understand anything in the early days, just cried and asked her mother. On the third day, she suddenly sat down in the corner, hugged the teddy bear, and said:

“Dad, I miss you. Can you take me back to my grandmother’s house?”
He knelt down and hugged him, but he blurted out:
“It’s not Dad! My father didn’t make me cry!”

She went to stay at a hostel near her grandmother’s house. At first, it was only a few days, then a few weeks, but finally it became a few months. She asked to redo her old job, send her children to her maternal grandparents to take care of her when she went to work. Despite the pain, she still kept herself calm.

Outsiders praised her strongly. But no one knew that she hugged her pillow and cried every night, because she missed her child, because she was in pain, because she felt like a torn shirt, thrown aside when people found a new one.

She didn’t blame Mai – the other woman was just a victim. Blame is to blame him – who has it all, but chooses a moment of weakness instead of remembering the person who once carried the whole world for him.

As for him, in the days after she left, everything gradually appeared as it was. Mai is not used to housework, she can’t stand his mother’s cold eyes, An’s night crying, or even his own silence. She began to get irritated, asking to move out separately.

He was tired. Those who thought “a house of four” were happy, but it turned out to be just a clumsy patchwork of mismatched fragments.

One night, he sat flipping through the album his wife had brought with him – but returned it when he filed for divorce shortly afterwards. Among them are old photos: he holding his newborn child, his wife smiling when she receives the news of her husband’s return for the first time, the scene of the whole family eating around an old wooden table…

On the last page, there is a piece of paper folded in half:

“I used to think, as long as you come back, all the cracks will heal. But I was wrong. Heart wounds, not everyone wants to bandage.”

That night, he cried. For the first time in many years.

He began to change—not because he wanted to hold on to her, but because he felt that he was no longer himself. He took his child to his grandmother’s house regularly, gradually she opened up again. At first, she was cold, but seeing him take care of her children and teach them to study, she softened her heart. Although she didn’t come back, she let him provide for and take care of her children without stopping her.

Once, baby An was seriously ill, with a fever of more than 39 degrees, she called him in the middle of the night:

“Can you take him to the hospital? I’m far away.”

He rushed over and carried his child to the hospital. He didn’t sleep all night. The next morning, she arrived, and found him lying asleep next to his child’s bed, his eyes sunken, and his gray hair with a few more strands.
She didn’t say anything, just quietly put the blanket back on him.

A few months later, Mai moved out and took her child with her. She told him that she couldn’t stand the half-hearted life, and that she didn’t deserve to be a “shadow” in that house. He nodded – without holding back. He knew that all clinging was selfish.

He moved back to live alone, next to his elderly mother and the gaps of memory. Every weekend, he drives his children to play, cook, practice drawing, and tell stories. He didn’t ask her to come back, he just asked:

“Can you take me somewhere for the weekend?”
And every time he nodded, every time he felt that he still had a chance to be a kind person.

One afternoon in October, it was just raining, he was sheltering under the eaves of the kindergarten when he saw her carrying her child. She wore a thin raincoat, holding a briefcase in her hand, still small but steady as before.

He hesitated:

“Let me bring my mother and daughter back.”

She looked at him for a while, then nodded. In the car, no one said anything. There was only the sound of rain crackling. Arriving at home, when little An went inside to change, she turned to him:

“In the old days, I came back, bringing other people with me. Today, he came back, only him. But you’re different.”

He didn’t dare to look up, just asked quietly:

“Is it too late?”

She didn’t answer. Just say:

“You’re back, asking yourself: Are you looking for a wife, or are you looking for someone to forgive?”

He was silent.

She went back into the house, leaving him in the middle of the cold rain.