Chapter 25 — Betrayed by My Own Mother, Saved by My Mother-in-Law

My mother spun around, eyes flashing with sudden intensity. "Shut your mouth." Her sharp bark made the boy recoil in terror. I had rarely seen her snap at Dieu To like that. From the time we were children, I had been the one to endure her lash and rebuke, while he was forever coddled and sheltered. When he broke a bowl, she blamed it on the mischievous nature of boys. When he stole eggs to eat, she claimed it was because he was in his prime growing years. When he threw my schoolbooks into the water vat, she forced me to act the part of the elder sister, demanding I yield to him. Seeing her silence him now felt profoundly alien.

I did not open the cloth bundle. "Where did this money come from?"

She twisted the hem of her shirt, her knuckles white. "I sold the silver bracelet your grandmother left me."

My hand went rigid. I remembered the bracelet well. My mother never wore it; she only brought it out during the Lunar New Year to polish the silver until it gleamed. She used to say it was the only memento her mother had bequeathed her, and that no one was ever to lay a finger on it. I looked up at her, my voice trembling. "How could you bring yourself to sell it?"

Tears finally spilled over, carving tracks through the dust on her cheeks. "You think I wanted to?" She wiped them away in a frantic motion. "But you were right. I can no longer stand in your way."

Hearing those words spoken directly by her felt like a jagged blade pressed against my heart. I wanted to hate her. Yet, within that bitterness, there remained the undeniable pull of blood and bone, the haunting memory of eighteen years spent lingering in the corner of that small kitchen, and the vision of her hunched over a stove, boiling a bowl of ginger soup whenever I fell ill. These kindnesses were meager, pitifully few, but they existed.

"Mother," I asked, "what is it you are actually trying to say?"

She looked at me, her expression drained of all pretense. "When I was young, I, too, dreamed of escaping." The breeze from the village committee office swept past, fluttering the thin, graying strands of hair on her forehead. "By fifteen, I was already breaking my back for work points, and by seventeen, I was married to your father. Your grandmother told me that a woman’s lot in this life was already cast in stone. Later, when your father passed early, I was left alone to raise you and your brother. The villagers sneered and whispered, mocking me for having no man to lean on."

She spoke with agonizing slowness, as if she were scraping these fragments of the past from the depths of her soul. "I feared poverty. I feared their laughter. I feared that Dieu To would never find a wife, or that the Lam family line would end with me. In my fear, grasping at shadows, I ended up pushing you into the abyss with my own hands."

I remained silent. Mother Chau was quiet, too. Outside the perimeter wall, the ringing of a bicycle bell echoed, and in the distance, a laborer trudged by, burdened by a heavy carrying pole. My mother wiped her eyes again. "I have not been a good mother."

The weight of her admission hit my chest like a physical blow. I had waited years to hear these words, yet I had never imagined they would truly come. She looked down at the bundle in my hands. "Take the money. If you become a teacher as you planned, remember me if you wish—or don't. That is up to you."

Dieu To burst out, his voice shrill with panic. "Mother! You said that money was for buying me a motorbike!"

My mother wheeled around, her gaze razor-sharp. "Your sister’s education is far more important."

"She’s already going off to marry into another house!"

"She is still the child I brought into this world with my own blood and suffering."

Dieu To looked as if he were choking, his face flushing a deep, mottled red. My mother spared him one final, weary glance. "Dieu To, stop clinging to your sister’s skirts. You are nineteen now. It is time you broke your back to earn your own keep. From this day forward, this household will no longer demand your sister sacrifice her life to sustain you."

Dieu To looked at her as if she had lost her mind. "Mother, you never talked like this before."

My mother closed her eyes tight. "I was wrong before."

The words were simple, yet they silenced everyone standing near the office gates. The village head, who was distantly related to my mother’s family, heaved a long, weary sigh and turned away to light a cigarette. I gripped the cloth bundle, my fingers stiff. "Mother, I cannot take all of this."

She stammered, "Why can’t you?"

"I already have money for the bus and train. Mother Chau and Uncle Dai Tru have helped me save. I will receive a scholarship once I reach the university. You sold grandmother's bracelet; you must keep something for yourself."

She shook her head. "What good is it to me now? There is no one left to look at it."

I opened the bundle. Inside were about 1.6 million, along with an old, tattered handkerchief. The bills were crumpled, some of them soiled. I took out 600,000, tucked it back into the cloth, and pushed the rest toward her.

"I will take one million. Consider it your farewell gift to me. Keep the rest to see to your own health and old age. And you are forbidden from buying a motorbike for Dieu To."

Dieu To glared at me with pure venom. I stared him down. "If you want a motorbike, go earn the money yourself." He looked away, not daring to protest further.

My mother looked down at the money, tears welling again. "You are still willing to take it from me?"

"You are still my mother," I replied steadily. "But remember this well: this is the final time you shall use money to compensate for the wrongs of the past." She stood frozen. I slid the money into my pocket, my voice calm. "Whatever I do to support you in the future, it will be because I choose to fulfill my filial duty. It will not be because you hold the debt of birth and upbringing over my head."

She nodded, over and over. "Understood."

Only then did Mother Chau loosen her grip on my arm. My mother looked at her, her expression strained. "In-law..."

Mother Chau interrupted, her voice firm. "Trieu Thu calls me mother, and I claim her as my own daughter. If you truly wish for her well-being, then pray, do not stand in her path again."

My mother’s lips trembled. "Thank you."

The two words fell to the earth like heavy stones, devoid of resonance but crushing in their weight. Mother Chau acknowledged her. "The girl is a good soul."

My mother whispered, "I know."