The parents’ favoritism for sons over daughters left their children deeply wounded, and in the end, when old age came, they had to face a bitter ending…

The wind rustled through the leaves, carrying a hint of early autumn chill, tightening the knot of sorrow in Mrs. Hạnh’s chest. Sitting on the worn wooden chair at the veranda, her mind drifted back to the days gone by, to the choices that had led her life down a path filled with regret. In her sunken eyes, the images of her two children—a boy and a girl—appeared one after another, vivid as though playing in slow motion.

When her firstborn daughter let out her first cry, instead of overwhelming joy, Hạnh felt a heavy wave of disappointment. “Another girl,” the words echoed endlessly in her mind. Her husband, Mr. Tấn, could not hide his dismay either. Both of them longed for a son to carry on the family line, to shoulder responsibilities. The baby was named Linh, but even her name could not brighten the faint hopes in her parents’ hearts. Linh grew up neglected, starved of affection. She was sent to live with her maternal grandparents, rarely brought home by her parents. Her clothes were all hand-me-downs, and powdered milk was nothing more than a distant dream.

Three years later, Hùng was born. His first cries brought boundless joy to the whole family. Hạnh and her husband wept tears of happiness, treating their son as a priceless treasure. From that moment on, all affection, all care, was poured solely on Hùng. He was given the best food, the neatest clothes. The family no longer bothered with Linh’s existence.

One evening, Linh came home from school and saw Hùng playing with a brand-new toy car. She timidly walked closer.
“Mom, can I have a toy too?” Her small voice carried so much longing.

Hạnh looked at her daughter, then turned her eyes toward Hùng. Her gaze turned cold.
“Go play with your old toys. Your brother’s toys are his. Girls don’t need toys like that.”

Her words cut into Linh’s tender heart like a sharp blade. The girl quietly turned away, her eyes brimming with tears. She understood then—inside this house, she had no right to be loved, no right to ask for anything.

Time passed, and Linh grew up deprived of affection. She poured herself into studying. Year after year, she became an excellent student, bringing home certificates of merit. She believed that if she were good enough, her parents would finally notice her, would finally be proud.

“Mom, Dad, I passed the university exam! It’s Medical School!” Linh exclaimed joyfully, holding up the admission letter to show Mrs. Hạnh, her face glowing with hope.

Mrs. Hạnh glanced at the paper, then at Linh, her expression cold and void of emotion.
“University? What for? You’re a girl—why bother studying so much? Tomorrow, go work at the garment factory near home. Three million a month is enough for you to live on. We still have to save for Hùng’s university. He’s the son—he needs a good future.”

Linh froze, her eyes filling with tears.
“Mom… you can’t treat me like this! I’ve worked so hard!”

“Are you talking back to me? If you can’t even do something this simple, what are you good for? If you want to study, find the money yourself!” Mrs. Hạnh snapped, before slapping her hard across the face.

Staggering, Linh clutched her cheek, sobbing uncontrollably. She could not believe what she had just heard. Her mother’s words cut into her heart like a razor blade. In that moment, Linh decided she would no longer rely on her family. She took on all kinds of part-time jobs—washing dishes, waiting tables, tutoring—anything to cover her tuition and pursue her dream of becoming a doctor.

Years later, Linh graduated with honors and found a stable job. She met and fell in love with a kind, sincere man named Hoàng. When she introduced him to her family, Mrs. Hạnh immediately made an unreasonable demand:
“The dowry must be one hundred million. If you don’t have it, forget about the wedding.”

Linh’s heart burned with resentment.
“Mom, why are you treating me this way? This is my happiness, not some commodity to be sold!”

“What happiness? When a daughter marries, she’s as good as poured-out water. We raised you, and now that you’re marrying, you have to help your younger brother!” Mrs. Hạnh said firmly, without hesitation.

Though furious, Linh chose to give in—for love and to finally free herself from her family’s control. Hoàng, understanding her situation, scraped together loans until he could afford the dowry. The wedding took place quietly, without joy for Linh. After marriage, she gradually distanced herself from her parents, rarely calling, only returning when absolutely necessary.

Mrs. Hạnh didn’t think much of it—she still had Hùng, the son she believed would be her greatest support in old age. She poured all her love, all her assets into him, ensuring he lived in comfort. She always believed that one day, Hùng would be successful and repay her devotion.

But life did not go as planned. After getting married, Hùng continued to depend on his parents. He had no stable job and returned each month asking for money. Though old and frail, Mrs. Hạnh had to stretch her pension to support him.

One day, Mr. Tấn fell gravely ill. A large sum of money was needed for treatment. Trembling, Mrs. Hạnh called her son.
“Son, your father is very sick, we need money for treatment. Can you help us?”

“What? Mom, I have my wife and kids to worry about. Where would I get money? What about Dad’s pension? Use that. Don’t call me again.”

Mrs. Hạnh was stunned, the phone slipping from her hands, tears brimming in her eyes. It wasn’t just her husband’s illness that broke her—it was the cold, heartless response of the son she had sacrificed everything for, even at the cost of abandoning Linh.

Not long after, Mr. Tấn passed away. Completely devastated, Mrs. Hạnh was swallowed by grief. Now left alone, she turned again to Hùng, her last hope.

“Hùng, your father is gone. Now it’s just you and me. Can I come live with you?” she pleaded, her voice trembling.

“Live with me? What are you thinking? I have my own family to take care of. You’d only be a burden. You still have your pension—take care of yourself. Or go live with Linh!” Hùng flatly refused, without an ounce of love or pity. His words cut her heart into shreds. Everything she had built her life around, everything she had trusted in, collapsed in that instant.

In her despair, Mrs. Hạnh had only one choice left: call Linh.
“Linh… can I live with you? I’ll give you five million a month to cover expenses.”

Linh was silent for a moment, then replied gently:
“Come, Mom. I’ll take care of you.”

When Mrs. Hạnh arrived at Linh’s home, she was astonished. The house was small but cozy, clean, filled with light. Linh welcomed her with open arms—no reproach, no anger.
“Mom, you must be tired from the trip. Come inside and rest.”

“Here… take this money,” Mrs. Hạnh said, handing her an envelope.

But Linh softly refused.
“I don’t need it, Mom. Just stay here with me. I can take care of you.”

Mrs. Hạnh was shaken. During her days with Linh, she was moved by her daughter’s tender, meticulous care—every meal, every night’s rest, every small gesture. There was no resentment, no bitterness. Linh’s warmth stood in stark contrast to Hùng’s indifference.

One evening, as Linh gently massaged her weary legs, Mrs. Hạnh could no longer hold back her tears.
“Linh… I’m sorry. I wronged you. I abandoned you. I truly regret it…” she sobbed, her voice breaking with guilt.

Linh embraced her mother, stroking her frail back.
“Don’t say that, Mom. I understand. You’ve been through so much.” Her voice was soft, full of love.

In that moment, Mrs. Hạnh felt an unfamiliar peace—a serenity she had never known in all her years.

Now, in her old age, all she could do was thank Linh. Though it was too late, her daughter’s kindness and devotion had redeemed her broken soul. Looking at Linh—the daughter she had once dismissed as worthless—Mrs. Hạnh realized she was the only one left by her side. If only she had been fair, if only she had loved both children equally, perhaps she wouldn’t have ended up so lonely and brokenhearted.

She could only hope that others would learn from her mistake: never favor one child over another. For it is love and fairness, not favoritism, that form the strongest foundation for a happy family and a bright future.