Anh Dũng, 42, was the CEO of a renowned real estate corporation. Successful, wealthy, and known for being rational and cold. Few knew that behind the spotlight was a deep emotional wound he had carried in silence for over twenty years.

Back then, Dũng was a senior economics student. He fell deeply in love with a gentle education major named Hạ. They once dreamed of a small house, a garden, and the laughter of children. But when Hạ became pregnant, tragedy struck: Dũng’s family suddenly forced him to study abroad, disapproving of their relationship. The trip was long, and all communication was cut off. When he finally returned, Hạ had left the dormitory without a trace. He searched desperately but, in the end, believed she had chosen to walk away—and not keep the baby.

Years passed. Dũng became successful, yet his heart remained hollow. He never married, devoting himself only to work and charity. Every year, he awarded scholarships to underprivileged children in remote areas—partly as a way to make up for what he felt he had lost.

That year, at a scholarship ceremony in the mountains, he unexpectedly noticed a ninth-grade girl named Vy. Thin face, bright eyes, and a polite manner that struck him with an odd sense of familiarity.

Vy lived with her mother in a fragile thatched house. During their brief meeting, Vy said she dreamed of studying education and becoming a teacher like her mother. Dũng smiled, moved by her resilience. He decided to personally cover all her tuition fees through college.

But then, something strange happened…

One day, his secretary accidentally sent him the detailed files of the scholarship recipients. When he reached Vy’s, he froze.

Mother’s name: Trần Diệu Hạ.

Each letter gripped his chest like a vice.

He rushed to the village where Vy lived. Inside the small home, under the glow of a kerosene lamp, sat the woman he had once loved, mending clothes. Hạ looked up, stunned. For a long, endless minute, silence filled the air.

— “Why didn’t you say anything… all these years?” he asked hoarsely.
— “Because back then, I thought… you had chosen another path. I didn’t want to be a burden to you.”

Vy stood at the doorway, bewildered by the scene. Dũng looked at her—truly looked—for the first time, with trembling eyes of a father.

— “I’ve missed too much already… But from now on, please let me do the right thing, let me be… your dad.”

From that day on, Vy gained a father. And Dũng—the man who thought he already had everything—finally found the missing piece of his life. Not money, not fame, but family, blood ties, and a daughter with eyes that mirrored his own—the very eyes he had dreamed of countless times over the last twenty years.