Chapter 9 — Mother Died, Father Repented

I sat on the hospital bed, looking at my father shielding me in front. It is impossible to say clearly what the feeling was at that time. Not touching. Nor is it forgiveness. I just feel, it's too late. When mother died, he didn't block her face like this. When my leg was broken, he didn't either. Now that he's just doing these things, what's the point? The nurse rushed in and screamed loudly to alert the police. Several people joined forces to pull Tuong Vi out. When the police arrived, Dad leaned against the bed and slid to the ground. There was blood all over his body. He turned his head to look at me, his lips moving, as if he wanted to say something. But in the end, there was nothing to say. He kept his eyes closed.

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Chapter 10 Later, Tuong Vi was sentenced to death for intentional murder. Dad's assistant came to find me with the will. He said, before he died, my father left all his assets in his name to me. Consider it the final compensation. I looked at that will and didn't say anything for a long time. Finally, I signed. But I don't keep much of that money. I donated most of it. Taking her mother's name, set up a medical support fund. Specializes in helping mothers and children who do not have money to pay hospital and surgical fees. I think, if my mother were still alive, she would definitely agree. She is so kind, her biggest fear is seeing others suffer. The day Tuong Vi was executed, I went to watch. She was much thinner than in my memory, her long hair was messy, and there was no longer any light in her eyes. Seeing me, she still wanted to rush over and curse. But being held tightly by the legal police, there was nothing she could do. At that moment, my heart was very peaceful. Not because of anger. But I know, everything is really over. Later, I brought my mother's favorite cake when she was alive and went to the cemetery one more time. I placed the cake in front of the tombstone, squatted down, and gently wiped away the photo on the tombstone. I looked at the mother in the photo and said softly:

“They're all gone.”

“Those who harmed me, those who pressured me, are no more.”

“From now on, I will live for my mother.”

The wind blew, messing up the strands of hair on my forehead. I raised my hand and stroked it back, suddenly feeling the wind was so light. Like my mother's hand stroking my hair the other day. I stood up, looked at the tombstone in front of me, and said softly:

“Mom, I remember what you told me.”

“I will live well.”

Then I turned around, walked along the road when I first arrived, step by step and went out. This time, I didn't look back. RUN OUT OF