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.