Chapter 38 — Betrayed by My Own Mother, Saved by My Mother-in-Law

I looked deep into his eyes and spoke, my voice steady yet laced with raw emotion: "All those years ago, that marriage was never my choice. But today, I want to choose for myself. Are you willing to start over and build a life with me? This time, there is no dowry, no deceit—this comes purely from the depths of my heart." His eyes grew red, brimming with unshed tears, and he nodded firmly, his voice barely a whisper: "I am willing."

Afterward, we did not bother with a wedding banquet. We simply went to a photography studio in the county seat to take a family portrait. In the photograph, Mother Chau sits in the center, while Dai Tru and I stand on either side. She cradles my university diploma in her lap, her face creased into a wide, joyful smile.

The first thing I did after receiving my inaugural paycheck was to buy Mother Chau a silver bracelet. She adamantly refused to accept it, insisting, "I am used to farm work; such a thing would only get in my way." I gently took her wrist and fastened the silver band around it myself. "This is just a small token of my filial piety, a daughter’s gratitude toward her mother," I said softly. She stood stunned for a long moment, then stroked the cool silver, whispering, "Then, I shall accept it."

The second thing I did was donate a bookshelf to the primary school in Hanh Hoa hamlet. That battered, dog-eared mathematics textbook from my childhood was placed among the new volumes. On the inside cover, I carefully inscribed a message: Dedicated to any girl who longs to step out and see the wider world.

Later, Nhi Nha passed her entrance exams for vocational school. On the day the acceptance letter arrived, she hugged me tightly and sobbed, "Sister Trieu Thu, I am finally stepping out too." As I patted her back, I was reminded of my own past—that young girl curled up beneath the flicker of a dim oil lamp, too terrified to ask for the chance to study. It turns out that when a woman is lifted out of the mire, she truly gains the strength to reach back and lift another woman up in her stead.

In her twilight years, Mother Chau often sat basking in the sun in our courtyard. She loved telling the neighborhood children the story of how she once sold her pig to put her daughter-in-law through university. The children listened, their eyes wide with wonder. One curious child asked, "Mother Chau, weren't you afraid that by selling the pig, you would lose everything?" She would smile, her gums showing as she chuckled, "The pig was not lost, my child. The pig turned into books, and those books turned into a human life." Standing by the doorway and overhearing her words, I found my vision blurring with tears once more.

In the spring of 1978, my own mother tricked me into attending a feast, leading me into a trap. I once believed that was the darkest dead-end of my life. But much later, I came to understand that some paths do not simply appear; they are carved out because someone endured, gritted their teeth, sold their only breeding pig, and lit a flickering lamp in the heart of a cold winter night to ask you a single question:

"Daughter, do you still want to go to school?"

I had said yes. And just like that, the entire, radiant duration of my life was truly reborn from that single, defining moment.