Ten years ago, my village was shaken by the news that my mother – a woman famous for her talent and beauty – suddenly abandoned her husband and children to run away with Mr. Hoi – the richest man in the village. At that time, I was 10 years old, my younger brother was just 4. My father died early of liver disease, leaving only the three of us in the family.

But one morning, my mother left a short note:

“I’m sorry, I can’t stay poor like this forever. I will live the life I deserve.”

No tears, no hug goodbye. She was gone.

My younger brother, Quan, and I cried our eyes out that day. We held each other and struggled to survive. I dropped out of school and became a construction worker at the age of 11. My younger brother taught himself to read and write at home, eating sweet potatoes instead of rice. The neighbors sympathized with me, some gave me a bunch of vegetables, some gave me a bowl of rice. But no one could bear the shame of being abandoned by our mother.

When I was 20, my younger brother passed the university entrance exam. But no one expected that at that time, a mineral tycoon named Hoang – who was said to be an overseas Vietnamese who had returned to invest in the country – suddenly appeared in the village. He drove a luxury car, spoke politely, but specifically asked only one thing:

– In this village, are there any two children who were abandoned by their mothers?

The news reached my sister and I. We were called to the villa he had just built. The house was so big that we both stood frozen outside the gate.

The tycoon came out to greet us. He didn’t ask many questions, just looked at us for a long time and said:

– From now on, you two are my children. I will take care of you until you become adults.

We were stunned. Before we could understand what was happening, the gate of the villa opened. A woman stepped out, her hands trembling as she held a glass of water. And then…

I was stunned. My brother was also rooted to the spot.

That woman… is my mother.

Still the same face, but now she was more haggard, her hair was gray, her eyes were full of wrinkles. She was no longer the proud woman she used to be. She stammered:

– You… you children… is it really you?

I said nothing. My brother stepped back, his eyes red.

The rich man looked at my mother, then looked at both of us:

– She has been my maid for 3 years. I didn’t know anything until I heard your names. By chance, I read an old job application… with your names in the “relatives” section that she had hidden in the closet.

The air seemed to freeze. My mother trembled as she stepped forward, trying to touch my hand. But I stepped back.

– Where have you been, mom, for ten years?

– Mom… you’re wrong. Mr. Hoi only kept you like an object, then kicked you out after 3 years. You didn’t dare come back because you were ashamed…

I pursed my lips. So many years of bitterness, poverty, and humiliation, could it all be summed up in two words: “ashamed”?

My brother suddenly came forward and placed a small piece of paper in her hand. It was a dirty photo of the two of us as children, hugging and sleeping in an old tent.

– Remember, Mom. That’s what you left behind. I don’t know if it’s easy to forgive… but you weren’t there during our hellish years.

Then it turned away without saying another word.

I looked at my mother and said softly:

– Mom, you don’t need to be a maid anymore. Mr. Hoang has hired us. Live a decent life… that’s enough.

We entered the villa, leaving the woman kneeling in the middle of the yard with the shaking photo in her hand.

And I know… there are wounds that no matter how much time passes, they will never heal. But maybe, just one chance… to not make the same mistake again.