The home of Minh and Lan had always been filled with laughter through the years. Minh’s father had moved in with them when his health began to decline, and it had been nearly eight years since then. Though old, the man was kind and never caused trouble for his daughter-in-law. He even helped by picking vegetables or carrying the grandchildren. But whenever the topic of his youngest son Nam came up, his face would darken. Nam had once been the source of pain that made him quietly leave home.

The day Nam returned, everyone was surprised. People thought he had left for good, but there he was—looking more mature, speaking calmly, and even boasting about working as a security guard at a large building. Minh embraced his younger brother with joy in his eyes, while Lan remained cautious, unsure if this change was real. The father sat quietly, only nodding before turning away. Inside Lan, a vague unease began to stir.

It was around this time that Lan decided to hire a helper to ease her burden. A young woman named My came, slim, plain-looking but gentle. Since My’s arrival, the house became tidier and meals warmer. Lan felt a little relief, believing that at least this lessened her pressure. But she had no idea that from here, cracks beneath the surface were beginning.

One afternoon, while tidying the room, Lan stumbled upon something that made her heart race: a pregnancy test hidden beneath the mattress. Two red lines slashed before her eyes, making her whole body tremble. She summoned My, her gaze sharp: “This is yours, isn’t it?” My froze, then burst into tears, trembling as she confessed: “Sister… I spent the night with Brother Minh… the night he got drunk…”

The words struck like lightning from a clear sky. Lan could hardly believe her ears—anger and humiliation surged through her. Minh, upon hearing, immediately denied: “I swear, I didn’t do it! I don’t remember anything, absolutely not!” His voice shook, his face pale with outrage. Lan looked at her husband, torn between believing or not.

To resolve it, Lan firmly demanded a DNA test. The result shocked the whole family: the child My was carrying was indeed Minh’s. Lan was speechless, tears flowing uncontrollably. Minh collapsed, clutching his head, crying: “Impossible… I didn’t do it…” Yet the harsh truth hung heavy over them all.

My began demanding two billion dong, her tone a mix of pleading and threat: “I don’t need anything else, just the money. After that, I’ll raise the child alone and disappear.” Lan froze at the number, while Minh grew furious: “Never! I won’t give a single cent.” At that moment, My no longer looked pitiful but revealed a cold, calculating face. Lan increasingly felt something was wrong.

While Lan was drowning in turmoil, her father-in-law called her late one night. Sitting under the dim yellow light, his voice raspy, he said: “Daughter-in-law, I don’t believe my eldest betrayed you.” Lan was stunned; his eyes shone with determination. Slowly, he recounted: “Last month, I saw Nam coming out of My’s room, hurriedly pulling up his clothes.” Each word was a blade, striking Lan to the core.

Her body went weak as a flood of memories rushed back: Nam’s ambiguous glances, My’s evasive eyes whenever questioned. She told Minh about it, but he shook his head repeatedly: “Impossible! He’s my brother—how could he?” His voice trembled, filled with both pain and rage. Lan said nothing, only clenched her fists, torn by suspicion.

Eventually, cornered, My broke down in tears and confessed: “I’m sorry… the baby is Nam’s, not Minh’s. We just wanted the money… we never thought it would go this far.” With tears streaming, she admitted everything. Minh was shocked, Lan speechless, and the father-in-law sighed heavily. The house sank into sobs and seething anger.

“You bastard!” Minh roared, ready to hit Nam. But his father stopped him, eyes bloodshot: “Don’t… he’s still your brother. Beating him won’t solve anything.” Minh stepped back, his hands trembling, face clouded. Lan looked at Nam—head bowed, lifeless, unable to lift his gaze. She felt fury, pity, and fear all at once.

My continued, her voice shattered: “I… I’ll abort the baby. I won’t marry him.” That cold confession silenced everyone. Lan felt suffocated—an innocent life reduced to a tool in their scheme. Her father-in-law held his head, muttering: “Poor child… abandoned before even being born.” Minh turned away, unable to utter a word.

The following days, the house was suffocating. Lan suffered sleepless nights, haunted by My’s lifeless eyes and Nam’s disgrace. Minh smoked incessantly, his eyes sunken, unable to speak. The father-in-law sat silently, staring at the empty yard each day, as if searching for a way out for the family. The atmosphere was as heavy as an impending storm.

Then arose a question that sparked nights of arguments between Lan and Minh: should they give Nam the two billion to force My to keep the child and marry him? Lan wept, her voice breaking: “Do you think he’ll change? Do you think he’ll be a decent father?” Minh stayed silent, eyes drowning in despair. The father-in-law whispered: “Blood is still blood… if saving a child is possible, we should try.” Lan sat frozen, her heart tearing apart.

No one could give a clear answer. Lan looked around the house, seeing each trapped in their own torment. Those two billion dong were not just money—it was trust, the future, a test. If given, it might save a life, but it might also open the door to greater tragedy. Sitting still, listening to the ticking clock, Lan kept asking herself over and over: what truly was the right choice for this family?