It's never too late to regret.

BPO - "Today is Mom's death anniversary, can you come home?" "You don't need to remind me, I know how to come home, she's my mother." This short, dry conversation, imbued with a deep emotional rift, was not unusual for my father and me. As a child who lost my mother at the young age of five, I couldn't possibly understand everything, so for a long time I resented my father.

On the way home, I stopped to buy a ready-made offering tray from a shop in town, then sped up to prepare the offerings for my mother's memorial service before noon. Since my mother's death, I've felt like I'm adrift in life. After my 18th birthday, I left home to work in the city, struggling to make a living on my own. For the past seven years, I've only returned home on the anniversary of my mother's death; otherwise, I've been completely out of touch with the house that once comforted and pampered me, despite my father's pleas and attempts to persuade me otherwise.

The sunlight filtered through the leaves, unusually clear and bright. Looking in from the porch, I suddenly saw Aunt Ngan busily working in the kitchen, and I imagined my mother from days gone by. Strangely, a feeling of closeness crept into me, but that vague moment was immediately extinguished by her words: "You're back, aren't you? I've prepared everything for your mother's memorial service, don't worry." Her voice was still gentle, warm, and loving, even though I had been rude, ill-tempered, and treated her like a stepmother with a "bloodthirsty" heart. After all these years, my heart had softened a little, but I still tried to say, "You don't need to worry, I can manage," as if to ease my own burden.

My father overheard the entire conversation from the sidelines, and as always, he let out a soft sigh… Suddenly, his eyes lit up with a glimmer of hope, as if he had realized that only the truth could resolve all the misunderstandings between his only child and, only then, could this family truly be stable and happy.

With a resolute expression, he approached me and said, "Let's play a game of chess." This cherished father-son bond had been missed for years, and I couldn't refuse this time. He knew that playing chess allowed us both to confide in each other, but for a long time, he had chosen to remain silent because he wanted me to have a fulfilling life, unaffected by my mother's situation.

Slowly making his moves, he recounted to me in a low voice the reason my mother left and later passed away in a traffic accident. He said that my parents married through an arranged marriage when they were both older, and my mother, a woman from the South, had "very bravely" traveled thousands of kilometers to the North to become a daughter-in-law. After I was born, my father thought that having a son would strengthen the family bond, so he worked even harder, hoping that his wife and child would not have to live in poverty.

However, when I was five years old, my mother's first love returned from working abroad. Because they missed each other so much, they moved to the Mekong Delta to live and start a new life, and they disappeared from then on. Even after my mother's fatal accident, my father only received a text message informing him. My maternal grandparents were in very difficult circumstances, so they only occasionally called to check on their grandchild. Later, as they grew older and weaker, visits became less frequent, and their relationship grew even more distant.

Out of sympathy for my father's plight as a single father raising his children, and also because she loved children, Aunt Ngan from the neighboring village agreed to move in with us to care for and love my father and me without asking for anything in return, not even a celebratory feast to introduce us to relatives. My father saw her genuine care and concern for her stepchildren, so he grew to love her even more. Aunt Ngan treated my father and me with sincerity, yet for so many years she had to suppress her resentment at being accused of "stealing" someone else's husband, enduring all the harsh criticism, insults, and cruelty from me.

I gradually understood everything, but my "hedgehog-like" exterior—the child who had always loved my mother the most, believing she suffered because of my father's infidelity—prevented me from accepting the harsh truth. I jumped up, grabbed my bike, and rushed out of the house as if I were running away.

What am I supposed to do about what I've done? Can the rift I've caused ever be mended? That question echoed in my head, even creeping into my sleep, tormenting me endlessly. At 11 p.m., after struggling with a jumble of thoughts, I hurriedly got in my car and sped home, driving over a hundred kilometers as if there wouldn't be another chance if I didn't get back immediately. The wind picked up tonight, and after a short distance, I felt a light drizzle. I ignored it and continued driving, because compared to the coldness and harsh words my father and aunt had inflicted on me for so many years, the wind and rain were nothing. Thinking this, I sped up even more.

The clock struck 1:30, and I arrived home. The house was eerily quiet. Calming myself down, I gently opened the gate. To my surprise, everything was still the same; all the house's access codes were my birthdates. I approached, intending to enter my bedroom, but suddenly stopped short, hearing a conversation between my father and aunt coming from inside. "I only feel sorry for myself, wholeheartedly caring for my husband and his son from a previous marriage, yet I'm still being slandered." "Quan is my son too; not for a single moment have I not considered him my own. Sooner or later, he'll understand my feelings."

Unable to wait any longer, I pushed the door open and stepped inside: “Dad, Aunt, I… I’m sorry. It’s all my fault. You both have always loved me, and all I could do was make a mistake. From now on, we’ll be a happy family, okay?”

Following those words were tight hugs, bursts of tears of happiness, and above all, my regret that it wasn't too late. I'm glad I realized it in time, that I managed to reclaim my family happiness for myself and for my father – who always loved me unconditionally.

Hello, dear viewers! Season 4, themed "Father," officially launches on December 27, 2024, across four media platforms and digital infrastructures of Binh Phuoc Radio and Television and Newspaper (BPTV), promising to bring to the public the wonderful values ​​of sacred and beautiful fatherly love.
Please send your touching stories about fathers to BPTV by writing articles, personal reflections, poems, essays, video clips, songs (with audio recordings), etc., via email to chaonheyeuthuongbptv@gmail.com, Editorial Secretariat, Binh Phuoc Radio and Television and Newspaper Station, 228 Tran Hung Dao Street, Tan Phu Ward, Dong Xoai City, Binh Phuoc Province, phone number: 0271.3870403. The deadline for submissions is August 30, 2025.
High-quality articles will be published and shared widely, with payment for their contributions, and prizes will be awarded upon completion of the project, including one grand prize and ten outstanding prizes.
Let's continue writing the story of fathers with "Hello, My Love" Season 4, so that stories about fathers can spread and touch everyone's hearts!

Source: https://baobinhphuoc.com.vn/news/9/171455/loi-hoi-han-khong-muon-mang