A little girl named An was born into a family without a father. When An was only three years old, her father passed away in a traffic accident, leaving her and her mother struggling in life. An’s mother was forced to remarry a poor tailor who lived at the end of the village. His name was Lam, he was quiet, thin, with calloused hands but gentle eyes. The first day they met, An only looked at him with a strange expression, still not used to the idea of ​​having another “stranger” in the house.

An often sat by the window, watching her mother laugh and talk with her grandfather, her heart heavy. At night, she secretly cried, remembering the few stories about her biological father that she still remembered. Mr. Lam seemed to understand the distance, but never forced her to call him “father”. He just sat quietly at the sewing table, attentively working on each stitch until late at night. The steady sound of the sewing machine became a familiar sound in An’s childhood.

One time, An got sick with a high fever in the middle of the night. Her mother rushed to buy medicine but the store was far away, and Mr. Lam stayed to take care of her. He changed the cold towels, dipping them one by one, his eyes red from staying up all night. An, half asleep, saw his hunched figure beside the bed, and suddenly a strange feeling arose in her heart. She didn’t know what to call that feeling, it just felt warm.

Every day, An liked to play with the remaining scraps of fabric. She arranged them into funny shapes and giggled. Seeing this, Mr. Lam cut her some larger pieces of fabric and taught her how to sew simple lines. “Try sewing, like drawing on fabric,” he said gently. It was the first time An heard him call her by his patient voice, and she hesitantly replied, “Yes.”

As An grew older, her musical talent became more evident. She often hummed songs by the window, her clear voice making passersby turn to look. An’s mother realized that her daughter had a dream, but the family was always short of money. One day, An overheard a conversation and heard her mother sigh: “When will I be able to let you learn music?” Mr. Lam remained silent, only nodding slightly, his eyes determined.

From that day on, he took on more work. During the day, he still sewed for hire, and at night, he secretly went to the market to get more torn clothes to mend. The light in the small room was on all night, the yellow light shining through the narrow window. One day, An woke up in the middle of the night to get a drink of water and saw him sewing diligently, his back soaked with sweat. She was shocked, and for the first time, an indescribable feeling of sympathy arose in her heart.

One evening, Mr. Lam placed a small notebook in front of An. “This is where you save money, try signing up for a music class,” he said in a low voice. An’s eyes widened, and before she could react, her mother was already teary-eyed: “You… have you really saved enough?” He smiled softly, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepening: “If it’s not enough, we can work extra, as long as she has a dream.” An was silent, only knowing how to hug the notebook tightly, her heart beating wildly.

On the first day of music class, An was nervous and trembling. Mr. Lam quietly followed her, standing outside the classroom door waiting for the class to end. When she walked out, she saw him smiling, his eyes sparkling differently than usual. “Do you like it?” he asked. An nodded, whispering: “Yes, I… I like it very much.”

As the years passed, An gradually improved and was praised by his teachers. Mr. Lam became his silent companion, still quietly sewing and saving every penny for tuition. One day, his hand bled from a needle prick, but he just quickly wrapped it in a bandage and got back to work. Every time he heard An practicing the piano in the house, he looked up and smiled. That smile was enough to dispel all the hardship.

In his senior year of high school, An passed the entrance exam to the international music academy with a scholarship. The news shocked the whole family. An’s mother hugged her child and cried, while Mr. Lam remained silent for a long time. Then, he went into the room and took out an old suitcase, inside was a faded suit. He sat down and meticulously sewed each seam, his eyes shining with joy and worry. The night before he sent his child off to the airport, he stayed up all night to mend the suit.

That morning, he was wearing a tailored suit, standing awkwardly in front of the mirror. An saw it, and couldn’t help but laugh, but then her eyes were wet. “Why are you wearing that old shirt, Dad?” she asked. He rubbed his hands and softly replied, “Dressing up, sending my son off to school.” When he got to the airport, he secretly turned away, tears streaming down his face.

“Grandpa… are you okay?” An grabbed his hand, her voice choked. He forced a smile and shook his head: “Go, don’t worry about me. You just need to study well and sing with all your heart.” His mother stood next to him, sobbing, but he was determined not to cry in front of his son. But when An’s figure disappeared behind the security door, he collapsed into a chair, his hands shaking. His faded suit was wrinkled and soaked with tears.

During the years An studied abroad, Mr. Lam still wrote letters by hand. His handwriting was scribbled, and the ink sometimes smudged because he was in a hurry. In the letters, he never mentioned his difficulties, but always reminded: “Remember to take care of your health, don’t eat noodles all the time, it’s bad for your stomach.” An read the letters, many times crying until her pillow was wet. She silently promised herself to be successful to repay him.

An graduated with honors and began to participate in many international performances. The press praised her, the audience loved her, and she gradually became a famous artist. But in her heart, An always remembered the small house with the familiar sound of the sewing machine. On nights when she stood under the bright lights, she could still vaguely see the thin figure of her grandfather sewing clothes. Every song she played contained that image.

One day, An returned home after a long tour. Without warning, she quietly returned to the old house. The old wooden door still creaked, and the steady sound of a sewing machine echoed inside the house. Mr. Lam was sewing an ao dai for a customer, his hair had turned a lot gray. When he saw An, he stopped, and the needle fell to the ground.

“You… are back?” he asked, his voice trembling. An rushed to hug him, sobbing: “Grandpa, I missed you so much.” He just patted her back, his eyes moist. Mom came out of the kitchen, choking up as she hugged them both. The small house was filled with the warmth of reunion.

Not long after, An organized a big concert in his hometown. Thousands of spectators packed the auditorium, the lights were bright. An wore a gorgeous dress, but her eyes were always on the audience seat where Mr. Lam sat. He wore his old suit, now faded, but his face was full of pride. At that moment, all eyes seemed to be on him.

When the show ended, An stepped onto the stage, holding the microphone. She hesitated for a moment, then said, her voice trembling: “I want to introduce someone. He is not just a tailor, but the person who has sewn my whole life into shape.” Thousands of spectators applauded loudly, the light shining on Mr. Lam’s tearful face. He bowed his head, his hands shaking, not knowing what to do.

An ran down, grabbed his hand, and pulled him onto the stage. He shook his head repeatedly, embarrassed, but the audience cheered even more. Standing in front of the lights, he trembled, his lips moving: “I just… just want her to be happy.” His words were simple, but made the whole audience fall silent. An’s tears fell, mixed with the thunderous applause.

At that moment, she understood more clearly than anything: love does not need grand words, but the silent sacrifice of a lifetime. An held his hand tightly, speaking in front of thousands of people: “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be here today.” The audience stood up, giving them endless applause. Mr. Lam was confused, tears falling down his old face. But in his heart, he felt happier than ever.