The Three Sisters’ Pregnancy

Dong Village had always been peaceful, tucked away among endless green rice fields, where the wind carried the earthy fragrance of soil and grass. Life here moved slowly: people rose early to work the fields, napped at noon, and in the evening gathered at the communal yard to sip tea and talk about crops.

But in just one night, that tranquil rhythm shattered. A shocking piece of news spread like wildfire: three sisters from the same family were suddenly pregnant at the same time.

The rumor traveled faster than the wind over the fields. Within a single day, everyone knew — from the old woman selling sweet soup at the market to the barefoot children running down the dirt lanes. People whispered, people speculated, people doubted. And because these three sisters had long been known as the most beautiful girls in Dong Village, the story became even hotter, something no one could ignore.

The Three Flowers of the Village

The eldest, Ngoc, was twenty-five. Slender, with fair skin and soft features, she carried a quiet melancholy in her deep eyes. The villagers called her the “Tam” of the neighborhood — gentle, dutiful, hardworking. Many had advised her parents to arrange a marriage, but Ngoc always delayed, claiming she had yet to meet the right man.

Lan, the second sister, was two years younger. She was fiery, outspoken, unafraid to clash with anyone. If Ngoc was like a gentle spring drizzle, then Lan burned like the flames of summer. Many young men admired her bravery and strength, but one after another gave up, unable to withstand her blunt, unyielding nature.

The youngest, Huong, had just turned twenty. Innocent and lively, her dimples appeared every time she smiled, making hearts flutter all around. Villagers joked that whenever Huong walked through the marketplace, all conversation ceased — everyone simply stopped to watch her pass by. Yet strangely, despite their beauty and charm, none of the three had taken a husband, though countless young men in the village had cast longing glances their way.

The Lightning Strike

Then came the devastating news: all three sisters were pregnant. Without husbands.

The scandal struck the family of Mr. Tam and Mrs. Hoa like a thunderbolt.

Mr. Tam, a strict and traditional man who had spent his life preserving the honor of his lineage, turned pale as ash. It was as if lightning had cleaved him in two. The cigarette in his hand slipped unnoticed to the ground. Mrs. Hoa, meanwhile, wept until her eyes were swollen, pacing day and night, repeating the same question:

“Tell me the truth, who is the father of these children?”

But Ngoc, Lan, and Huong remained silent. Heads bowed, eyes swollen with unshed tears, lips pressed tight. However many times their mother begged, no answer came.

The Village in Uproar

The villagers could not restrain themselves.

“Who could have done such a thing? All three sisters, at once? Strange, so strange!” someone whispered at the gate.

“Must be the same man! How else could it be so coincidental?” another spat with malice.

Some pitied the sisters, calling them naïve, gullible. Others mocked, laughing as though it were a stage comedy. Still others shook their heads gravely: “This will stain the family’s name forever. How can Mr. Tam ever face anyone again?”

Heavy Days

As months passed, the sisters’ bellies swelled. Whenever villagers walked by their house, their eyes clung with curiosity, judgment, suspicion.

Mr. Tam stopped attending gatherings at the communal yard. He no longer shared tea with his old friends. Mrs. Hoa grew thin and hollow-cheeked, aged by sleepless nights.

Ngoc sat by the window most days, gazing far off as though waiting for something. Lan’s brows knotted constantly, as if she were battling the whole world. Huong, the youngest, had lost her innocence; her eyes no longer sparkled the way they once did. At night, the three often slipped to the back garden, sitting wordlessly under the old longan tree, listening to the whisper of leaves, as though the earth itself were scolding them.

The Fateful Day

At last, the day of reckoning came.

Within a single week, all three sisters went into labor. The cries of newborns tore through the heavy air that had hung over the household for months. Each child was born healthy and plump. Villagers thronged to the house, unable to resist their curiosity.

But when they looked closely, their chatter died.

The three babies… looked exactly the same. Bright sparkling eyes, high nose bridges, dimples carved at the corners of their mouths. Like identical triplets — except they had three different mothers.

The courtyard froze in stunned silence. An old woman trembled and muttered:

“This cannot be… What kind of omen is this?”

Mr. Tam’s face turned corpse-white, his hands shaking so violently he could not light his cigarette. Mrs. Hoa clutched one of the babies, tears streaming down her cheeks, an unnameable fear rising in her heart.

Under the Old Longan Tree

That night, while the village still buzzed in disbelief, the three sisters slipped to the back garden once more. The moon was bright, its silver light bathing them as they sat in a circle beneath the longan tree.

Ngoc whispered, her voice trembling: “We can’t hide it any longer. It’s time to tell our parents.”

Lan shook her head, tears streaking her face: “But if we confess, our family will be destroyed. Mother and Father will not survive it.”

Huong hugged her baby tightly, murmuring: “Sooner or later, the truth will come out. No one will believe this is coincidence. We… must admit it.”

Ngoc drew a shaky breath.

“The truth is… the father of our three children… is the same man.”

The Shocking Secret

That man was no stranger.

It was Phuc — Mr. Tam’s closest friend, his companion since childhood. Phuc had been a constant presence in their home: helping with farm work, fixing tiles, carrying water jars. Outwardly, he was respectable, dependable, a man everyone trusted.

No one suspected that, in the shadows, he had planted the seeds of tragedy.

One by one, Ngoc, Lan, and Huong fell victim — some through sweet words when vulnerable, others through manipulation, and still others through force. Terrified, ashamed, and certain no one would believe them, they had kept their silence. For the sake of their parents’ honor, they swallowed their pain.

But once the babies were born, their identical faces told the truth that could no longer be denied.

The Village Trembles

When the secret emerged, Dong Village was thrown into chaos.

Some were furious, others horrified. Some blamed the sisters for weakness, others cursed Phuc as a depraved villain.

Mr. Tam collapsed, bedridden by shock. Mrs. Hoa swung between love for her daughters and an unbearable shame she could not wash away. Ngoc, Lan, and Huong endured the villagers’ stares, raising their children in tears, torn between motherly devotion and searing resentment.

Phuc vanished from the village overnight, leaving behind a shattered family and a community forever scarred.

The Aftermath

Time passed. The three children grew amid whispers and wary glances. Some villagers pitied them, others despised them, still others looked on with fear.

The sisters struggled on, bound together by love for their children and the unhealed wound of their fate.

At night, under the old longan tree, the wind rustled the leaves like a relentless reminder: once revealed, truth leaves scars that never fade.

The three sisters — once the pride of Dong Village — had become its eternal haunting. And their story, of a devastating secret and a family’s downfall, would be told for generations, as a wound carved into the very memory of the village.