The day Hanh found out she was pregnant, the sky seemed to fall when she heard Quang calmly say: “I don’t want to be a father yet, you decide for yourself.” The words fell coldly like a rock pressing down on her chest. She looked at the face that once whispered words of love, now filled with distance, and felt a lump in her throat. Hanh’s heart was broken, but her hands unconsciously hugged her stomach, as if wanting to protect the little creature that had not yet formed. That night, she cried until she was exhausted, with only one thought in her mind: “The child must live, at all costs.”

The following days, Quang disappeared as if he had never existed. He pursued a rich woman, leaving Hanh with constant morning sickness. She had to work extra to pay for medicine and food, struggling with fatigue and holding back tears. One time, standing in the supermarket, looking at the expensive box of powdered milk, she quietly put it down. “I will try, baby,” Hanh whispered silently, her eyes red.

The day her child was born, Hanh was almost exhausted, but when she heard the baby cry, she suddenly burst into tears. “Hello Nam, my son,” she called softly, her lips trembling. The red baby wriggled in her arms, small but giving her extraordinary strength. In that moment, all the pain seemed to temporarily disappear. Hanh knew that from now on, her life was tied to this child.

The first three years of being a single mother were both happy and harsh. During the day, Hanh worked at a company, and at night she sold products online until late at night, her eyes stinging from lack of sleep. Nam grew up in his mother’s arms, his bright eyes and innocent smile making all the hardships seem light. Every time he called out “Mom!”, Hanh felt like she was given more strength. Many times, standing in front of the mirror, she whispered: “As long as you are happy, I can do anything.”

Hanh thought Quang would have nothing to do with her and her son forever. But one afternoon, the phone rang, showing his name. “I want to see my son… I was wrong, Hanh,” Quang’s voice trembled, but Hanh could hear the awkwardness. She was silent for a long time, then replied: “You came three years too late. My son doesn’t need a father who only thinks of him when he’s in trouble.” After saying that, she hung up, her heart aching.

But Quang did not give up, he appeared at the door, holding a teddy bear, flowers and cake. “I just want a chance,” he said, looking down as if to show remorse. Hanh crossed her arms, her voice cold: “Who are you asking for a chance for? For your child or for your tattered honor?” Quang was a little embarrassed, but still replied: “Both… but I really miss him.” Hanh sneered: “Do you miss your child or the beautiful image of a model father in the press?”

The following days, online newspapers continuously reported that Quang’s career was going downhill, and he had lost many contracts because of rumors that he had abandoned his wife and children. After Hanh read it, her doubts suddenly turned into certainty. He had returned not because of his son, but to save his own image. Nam had suddenly become a tool for him to “wash his face” in front of public opinion. Hanh felt her blood boiling, both pitying her son and feeling indignant.

One evening, Quang came to see me, his voice pleading: “If you just let me adopt your child, I will take care of him. He will go to an international school and live in luxury.” Hanh clenched her hands, her eyes bulging: “Do you think I need your money to raise my child? For the past three years, who has fed him every meal, who has stayed up all night to lull him to sleep?” Quang was silent, but then said: “You have the right, Hanh. He is your flesh and blood.” “Blood is not an excuse for you to come and go as you please,” she replied, her voice choked but firm.

Hanh’s mother repeatedly advised with concern: “My child, let him meet his father once, it won’t cost anything. Let the world say what they want.” Hanh looked at her mother, her eyes filled with tears: “Do you remember, the day I gave birth to Nam, I almost lost blood and fainted. Where is that man? I can’t let him enter my son’s life, then disappear again.” Mother remained silent, holding her daughter’s hand, just sighing. Between the two generations, the views were different but the pain was the same.

Quang gradually changed his tone, from pleading to threatening. “If you don’t cooperate, I’ll sue. I have money and connections, do you think you can keep them?” Hanh’s heart started to pound, her hands shaking. But when she looked at Nam sleeping soundly, his eyelashes fluttering like butterfly wings, she suddenly calmed down. “I won’t let anyone take you away,” she whispered, kissing her son’s forehead.

The meeting at the coffee shop made everything explode. Quang was handsome in a suit, with a support contract on the table. “You just need to agree to let Nam appear with me a few times in front of the press. In return, you will have a large sum of money to take care of him.” Hanh looked at the paper and sneered: “Are you planning to buy your honor with my child’s flesh and blood?” Quang grimaced: “Don’t be stubborn, Hanh. Children need their fathers too.”

“Dad?” – Hanh almost laughed out loud. “Dad didn’t abandon me in Mom’s womb. Dad didn’t disappear for three years and then come back just because he was afraid of losing the contract.” Her voice was as sharp as a knife, making Quang blush, his veins popping out. “You’ll regret it,” he gritted his teeth, packing up the papers. Hanh sat motionless, her heart trembling but her eyes shining with determination.

That night, Nam sleepily hugged his mother’s neck, muttering: “Mom, don’t cry anymore. I love you.” Hanh’s heart felt like it was bursting, she hugged her son tightly, tears streaming down her face. “Yes, I won’t cry anymore, I have you now, I’m not afraid of anything.” In that moment, she understood that every storm was just a test to make her stronger. Because maternal love cannot be bought or exploited.

On the day of the trial, Quang appeared with his lawyer, looking confident and ostentatious. But when the judge asked: “Have you ever provided for and cared for your child in the past three years?” – he was confused. The evidence Hanh presented was clear: hospital bills, milk receipts, photos of her staying up all night to look after the child. All of Quang’s excuses collapsed under the harsh gaze of public opinion. The room fell silent, except for the sound of pens and papers turning.

The trial ended, Hanh had custody of the child. Quang bowed his head and walked out amidst the cameras. The next day, the news was all over the place, and public opinion criticized him more harshly than ever. Hanh read those lines, neither happy nor elated, but only felt her heart lighten. She had won not because of the law, but because of her love for her child.

On the way home, Nam held his mother’s hand tightly and asked in a chattering voice, “Mom, did we win?” Hanh bent down and kissed her son on the forehead, “Yes, we won, baby. But actually, I never thought I lost.” The afternoon sun shone down, covering the mother and son in a gentle yellow color. The storm was behind, ahead was a new journey, where only peace remained.