I am Linh, twenty years old, a final year student of a design course.
My friends often say that I look older than my age—perhaps because I grew up with my mother, a strong and hardworking woman who raised me alone.
My father died early, and my mother never remarried. Instead, she devoted her entire life to working to support me.
One day, I joined a volunteer project. There I met Brother Nam—the head of the technical team, who was almost two decades older than me.
He was quiet, gentlemanly, and spoke with a depth of voice that seemed to be healing a wound deep inside.
At first, I only felt respect. But as time went on, every look he gave me and every voice he made my heart beat faster.
Brother Nam had a stable job and a lot of experience.
He had been through a failed marriage, but he had no children.
He didn’t talk about the past; he just said,
“I once lost something very important. Now, I just want to live a good life.”
Gradually, our relationship deepened—not dramatic, not noisy.
He loved gently and carefully, as if he was afraid of breaking something fragile.
I could hear others talking:
“That girl is still young, how can she be with a man twice her age?”
But I ignored them. With Nam, I found peace.
One day, he said,
“Linh, I want to meet your mother. I don’t want to hide it or pretend it.”
I hesitated. Mom was strict, and always worried.
But if our love was true, I had nothing to fear.
The day of the visit arrived.
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