Mrs. Bay woke up before dawn, quickly picking vegetables, cutting vegetables, cooking breakfast for herself and preparing food for her children. The small house at the end of the village had not yet woken up, but she was already busy with the rice cooker and the blazing stove. Every month, she saved every penny of her salary, from harvesting rice to washing dishes at the market, and deposited it into her child’s account. She did not dare to buy new clothes, did not dare to eat too much, just hoping that one day Tung would walk up to the podium to receive his medical degree with a proud smile. In her heart, the years of hardship were like forged into a resilient hope, even though she was tired, she never complained.

Every time she thought of Tung, her eyes welled up with tears, not because she was tired, but because she remembered the days when he was a little boy, hugging his mother and crying when he slipped on a banana peel or fell. “You have to study well, I believe you can do it,” she whispered to herself, her voice small but firm. She carefully recorded every payment and every document sent to school, afraid that a small mistake would affect her son. Deep down, she knew that her mother’s love was sometimes a burden, but she still endured it silently. For 18 years, she lived as if she did not exist, everything was for Tung.

On the day Tung graduated, she eagerly traveled hundreds of kilometers, full of excitement and confidence. She brought a basket of ripe mangoes and an old, neat ao dai to witness her son walk up to the stage to receive his diploma. On the way, she thought to herself: “I will soon see you become a doctor, all the cold nights and frugal meals are worth it.” But when she reached the school gate, her joy suddenly turned to shock when the principal called her in with a stern voice. “Mrs. Bay… I’m sorry to say… Tung dropped out of school two years ago…”

She was silent, her heart felt like it was being squeezed. For two years, she thought her son was still diligently studying in the classroom, receiving his grades, sending letters home telling stories about his studies. The letters, transcripts and messages that she had kept for years suddenly turned out to be fake. She did not cry, just stood there, still clutching the basket of mangoes, feeling as if the ground beneath her feet was about to disappear. Her eyes were blurred, but deep inside, a dull pain crept in, making each breath heavy.

On the way back to her hometown, she quietly watched the bustling crowd, the gray sky seemed to dye her heart. Not finding Tung at home, she heard that her son was arrested for participating in a technology fraud ring. Part of her still hoped, but the other part seemed to be suffocated by the cruel truth. She did not cry, did not scream, she just sat silently next to the basket of mangoes, sighing. She told herself: “I am still me… I just hope that my son will come back to live a real, honest life.”

The day she brought the basket of mangoes to the prison gate, her hands trembling as she placed them on the ground, she wrote a few lines to remind her son. “I am still your mother, Tung. No matter what you do, I will wait for you to come home, I only hope you will live a decent life.” She stood still, looking at the tightly closed iron gate, feeling the cold wind sweep across her face. Pain mixed with love, she did not cry, only silently prayed. She understood, a mother’s love never disappears, even if her son goes astray.

A few weeks later, a man walked into her house, his appearance was elegant but his eyes were gentle. “Mrs. Bay… I am an old classmate of Tung. I want to help Tung when he gets out of prison,” he said, his voice sincere. She listened, her heart skipped a beat, her eyes fixed on him, never thinking that she would have a second chance. The man explained that Tung did not need a degree or a title, he just needed to try to start over. For the first time in many years, she smiled softly, filled with love and forgiveness.

She recalled the rainy nights when Tung was little, she would stand outside the porch waiting for him to come home from his extra classes. At that time, she only hoped for his safety, never thinking about his career or fame. Now, she felt that, even if he made mistakes, his mother’s heart was as strong as a rock. She sat by the fire, clutching the basket of mangoes, staring into space, whispering to herself: “You will come back… and I will still wait for you.”

In the following days, she took care of the basket of vegetables and the pot of rice, but this time it was to wait for her son to grow up and become himself again. Every morning, she went to the field early, no longer for money, but to have a light heart and trust in the future. She still remembered Tung’s smile when he was a child, his sparkling eyes when he told her about his big dreams. Now, she knew that a mother’s love never ends, and her patience would lead him back on the right track.

Mrs. Bay began chatting with her neighbors about trivial matters in the village, but in her heart, she always thought of Tung. “You will be strong, you will know the way home,” she told herself. Every time she walked through the fields, she recalled the memories of hardship, the small change she had saved to send to her son, and realized that every hardship was rewarded with hope. She understood that forgiveness was not weakness, but the greatest strength of maternal love.

The day Tung finished his prison term, she stood at the end of the alley, wearing an old ao dai, holding a basket of mangoes and a few small gifts. When he walked out, her eyes were bright, her smile filled with love. Tung looked at his mother, his eyes filled with tears, as if he had just realized the true value of love. No one said anything, just exchanged glances, her heart filled with happiness. All the bitterness and disappointment seemed to disappear when he returned.

Tung knelt down before her, his voice choked: “Mom… I’m sorry. I won’t make you sad anymore.” She gently placed her hand on his shoulder, smiling: “You’re back, that’s enough, I don’t need anything else.” They walked home together, hand in hand, the basket of mangoes heavy as if filled with hope and love. In her heart, all the years of hardship became meaningful, just because she saw her son return and continue on the path of goodness.

Mrs. Bay returned to her daily routine, but now, every morning, she woke up with a gentle joy. She tended the vegetable garden, the fire, and prepared food for Tung with all her love. Her son was not perfect, but he knew how to turn around, and that was enough to make her happy. She sat on the porch, watching the sunlight shine through the leaves, her heart at peace. Motherly love, she realized, was the strength that overcame all disappointments and sufferings, and was the light that guided her son back.

Day by day, Tung learned, worked hard, and gradually rebuilt his life. Mrs. Bay silently watched, occasionally placing her hand on her chest, remembering the sleepless nights of worry. She knew that the path of honesty was not easy, but with motherly love and a second chance, Tung would not lose his way. That belief made her strong, her heart light, and the smile on her lips more lasting than ever.

Mrs. Bay still told her neighbors about Tung, but this time it was a story of hope, of return and forgiveness. People listened to her and saw a simple yet extraordinary strength. She said: “Even if you make mistakes, I will still wait for you to come back, because a mother’s love never runs out.” Her words resonated in people’s hearts, making everyone understand that the greatest love is not control or coercion, but patient waiting and being ready to forgive.

Then one afternoon, she and Tung sat on the porch, watching the golden sunlight spread over the rice fields. Tung told her about his prison days, his mistakes and lessons, his eyes shining with determination to change. She listened, nodding occasionally, her heart strangely warm. She told herself that all the hardships before were worth it, because in the end, her son had returned and found himself again. Once again, motherly love proved its power to overcome all mistakes, and Mrs. Bay felt her life was complete.