The Silence and the Slap: A Mother’s Truth at 3 AM
I am Aling Lan, 73 years old. A mother who has been through all the storms of life. After my husband passed away, I left our old brick and wood house and moved to the city to live with my only son—Cường, a successful company director, and his wife—Thảo, in a large, luxurious condo.
At first, I thought I would be happy. But soon, I noticed that the brilliance of the city was accompanied by a coldness—a coldness that seemed to suffocate my heart.
The Coldness in the Luxurious Home
Every night, the three of us rarely sat at the dining table together.
“Cường, aren’t you going to eat with us?” I asked while fixing the rice.
He just looked at his watch. “Mom, just eat. I still have work to do.”
Thảo was silent, barely able to look at us.
“Eat a little, daughter-in-law… the soup is still hot…”
“I don’t have the appetite! Stop nagging!” Cường hissed, slamming his spoon on the table.
I gasped. His gaze—cold, fierce—was the same as my husband’s gaze before, before he hurt me.
Thảo forced a smile.
“It’s nothing, Mom… maybe he’s just tired.”
But I saw… on Thảo’s arm, there was a bruise—dark, still fresh.
The Sound of Water at Three in the Morning
In the evening, I woke up to the sound of water from the bathroom. It was already three in the morning.
I frowned. “Why is Cường taking a bath at this hour?”
But the sound was strange. It wasn’t continuous—it sounded like crying… or panting.
I approached, slowly, and peeked through the small crack in the door.
And when I saw it… I froze where I was standing.
There was Thảo, shivering, trying to wash the bruises on her arms and shoulders.
Cường was standing next to her—cold, like a rock. In his hand he was holding a wet towel.
“You thought I didn’t know you were calling someone earlier, huh?” Cường snorted.
“No… just Mom… I just asked if she wanted to eat…”
“Liar!” he shouted, and BANG! — a slap thundered in the bathroom.
Thảo fell onto the floor, soaking wet, sobbing.
I covered my mouth, stifling my scream. My heart sank.
My son, whom I raised with all my love… was hurting his wife. Just like his father had done to me.
The Morning of Fake Smiles
The next day, while we were eating breakfast, I asked Thảo:
“Son, what happened to your hand?”
He was surprised, quickly hiding his hand under the table.
“Ah… I just got it caught in the door, Mom. It’s nothing.”
Cường came out, smiling, hugging his wife.
“It’s just a little bit, Mom. My wife is a precious lamp, isn’t she, honey?”
Thảo smiled—but there was a trace of fear in her eyes.
I knew that smile of hers was a suppressed cry.
A Mother’s Decision
That night, I couldn’t sleep.
Memories of the past came flooding back—the bruises on my body, the fear, the silence after the scream.
No. I wasn’t going to let Thảo go through that hell.
The next morning, I called them both.
“Cường,” I said, “I want to move to a nursing home. I have friends there, someone to take care of me. Here… I don’t feel like I fit in anymore.”
“Is that true, Ma?” he asked, frowning.
“Yes, my child. It will be better for all of us.”
Thảo was silent, tears welling up in her eyes.
I hugged her tightly, whispering: “Don’t be afraid, my child. I understand everything.”
A New Morning
In the nursing home, I found peace again. No shouting, no fear, no bruises. There were friends my age, laughing, talking.
And one day—I met Mạnh Minh, my childhood friend who I had long thought had passed away.
“I never thought I would see you again, Lan,” he said, smiling.
“Maybe I still owe you,” I joked, and we laughed together. I hadn’t laughed like that in a long time.
News From the City
One afternoon, Thảo arrived, carrying a bouquet of roses.
“Mom… it’s over. I’ve divorced Cường. I have a small flower shop now. Quiet, but happy.”
I hugged her. “Good job, son. Happiness is not given—it’s earned and chosen.”
As she walked out, I glanced out the window. The sun was setting, and the sky was golden.
Finally, at the age of 73, I had found true freedom. No more crying. No more fear.
Only peace… and the courage of a heart that has learned to love again.
