That boy was ten-year-old Minh. He had no parents. All he remembered was that when he was barely two, old man Bay, an old beggar living under a bridge, found him inside a plastic tub that had been swept away by the canal.
At that time, Minh couldn’t speak yet; he only cried until his voice was gone. Around his neck was a red bracelet made of almost faded thread and an old piece of paper with a written message:
“Please, whoever has a good heart, take care of this child. His name is Minh.”
Grandpa Bay had nothing: his legs were weak, and all he owned was an old sack.
Still, he took the boy to his shelter. They shared the pieces of bread they picked up on the street. Despite the poverty, he always told Minh:
“When you grow up, if you ever find your mother, forgive her.
No mother abandons her child without her heart aching.”
Minh grew up amid the shouts of bottle collectors, at bus stops, and under the bridge. He had never seen his mother’s face. According to Grandpa Bay, the paper that came with it had a lipstick stain and long hair—a sign that his mother was probably young and scared of the responsibility.
One day, Grandpa Bay came down with a severe cough and had to be taken to the hospital. With no money, Minh was forced to beg more frequently. He heard that a lavish wedding would be held in a nearby village.
Hungry and thirsty, he dared to approach the doors of the event. He stood silently, staring at the tables laden with food. A cook, seeing him, took pity on him and offered him a small box of warm sweet rice.
“Eat over there on the side, okay? Don’t let the others see you.”
Minh thanked her and sat to the side, eating while watching the joyful celebration: elegantly dressed guests, laughter, and music. He whispered to himself,
“Does my mother live in a place like this… or is she as poor as me?”
Suddenly, the master of ceremonies announced,
“And now, let’s give a big round of applause for our beautiful bride!”
The music began.
Everyone turned toward the red-carpeted staircase. And there descended the bride—wearing a white dress, long curly hair, and a smile as bright as the morning light. But that wasn’t what paralyzed Minh.
On the bride’s wrist hung a red bracelet—identical to the one he had worn since childhood! Minh’s eyes filled with tears. He got up and ran to the altar, his voice trembling,
“Auntie… that bracelet… are you my mother?”
The bride froze.
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