It was the middle of summer, so the air was stifling. The workshop where she worked was cramped, and the low corrugated iron roof made the heat feel even worse. She had witnessed two older female workers fighting over a single fan, and she felt sorry for them. They didn't use any foul language. Arguments and conflicts were commonplace in the workshop. They fought over every piece of wood to earn extra income, not only for their workspace but also for their standing spots and even for a glass of iced water… She could understand their struggles because the work was scarce, and sometimes there wasn't enough to distribute evenly among the workers. It was not uncommon for people to arrive very early just to get the best, easiest-to-work-with pieces. To achieve that, one had to befriend and curry favor with the forklift operators and foremen; it wasn't easy. This showed that earning money, even with hard work, was not easy at all.

The first few days of apprenticeship were stressful and stifling. While she was still fumbling around, she was suddenly startled by a shout: "Your hands! How can you possibly do that with such stiff hands?" The owner of the woodworking shop, her face flushed red, glared at her like a tiger looking at a lamb. At times, she felt discouraged and wanted to quit, but she regretted all the effort she had put in. If she didn't work for ten days, she wouldn't get paid. So she persevered, trying to support her children and pay off the debt her irresponsible husband had incurred. She thought that even though the working conditions were poor, it was better to have something than nothing.

She was assigned to the cold repair team by the team leader. The team had nine people, making ten including her. Although it was called a team, everyone worked in pairs. She worked with Nga, also a new worker who had joined a month before her. Here, workers receive ten days of training, after which they are paid based on output. The work wasn't complicated, but because she wasn't used to it, her wrists and finger joints ached after each workday. Nga said it took her half a month to gradually get used to the job and learn how to do it, so her hands hurt less. In the beginning, she just wanted to quit.

While working and thinking at the same time, she accidentally cut her hand with the knife, causing a sharp pain. Nga frantically wrapped a bandage around her finger, constantly exclaiming, "Oh my God! I told you to stay calm when you're not used to it, but you didn't listen. It's so painful!" Nga is a single mother, living alone with her daughter. Her circumstances and personal story are truly sad. The two sisters share many similarities in their backgrounds and personalities, making them easily connect. Their conversations, sharing, and mutual encouragement make the work easier. They quickly became close, giving Nga more confidence in her work.

Working is tiring, but it's better than staying home. When I get home, I feel depressed. My two children cling to my legs because they miss their mother, so I often cook, do laundry, and look after them all at the same time. As soon as I get home, my husband throws the children in my hands and goes out drinking with his friends. He gets drunk, slurs his words, and yells at me and the children. Sometimes he's out all day and doesn't come home until two or three in the morning. When I call him, he just hangs up and doesn't answer. At first, I couldn't sleep, pacing back and forth worriedly, but then I got used to it and stopped caring so much. He's just gambling and accumulating mountains of debt; he doesn't care about the family at all, so why should I worry myself to death? I've tried gentle persuasion, harsh arguments, and crying, but once he even resorted to physical violence. So I've become so fed up that I don't even bother caring anymore; I just let him go wherever he wants. She worked hard, doing overtime until late at night, hoping to earn a few extra dollars to buy her child a box of milk, but he didn't show her any compassion.

Saying she doesn't care about him anymore is just saying it to vent her anger, because her husband's debts still have to be paid. She pays off old debts only to have new ones piled up; it's impossible to keep up with all the debt. Sometimes she feels so tired she doesn't want to move or do anything, but when she thinks of her children, she manages to keep going.

***

The cemetery was quiet on a dreary afternoon. A man sat slumped over a newly dug grave, the incense stick long since burned out, yet he remained there. Beside him sat two children, probably waiting for their father for too long, picking wildflowers. The woman buried there was their mother, his wife. The man's eyes were red and swollen, staring into the vast emptiness. Then he looked at the two children, then at his wife's grave, tears streaming down his cheeks. His heart was filled with remorse, but it was too late. Everything before him was gray and oppressive. He no longer knew how he would repay his debts and raise his children. He collapsed, sobbing uncontrollably, his cries filled with remorse and helplessness.

In the sky, dark clouds rolled rapidly towards the west, plunging the area into darkness. The wind howled, whipping up dry leaves. A major thunderstorm was imminent.

She slowly opened her eyes after being unconscious for over an hour. Actually, she had been awake for a while before, but due to her weakness, she had fallen asleep again. The doctor said she only suffered a minor head injury and it wasn't life-threatening. However, her left leg was broken, so she would have to stay in the hospital for a while. It turned out that while she was unconscious, she had dreamt of dying. Even in death, she couldn't stop worrying about her children, only wondering how they would live without her. She had never been able to feel at ease or trust her husband. Perhaps that's why she woke up?

She looked around. There was her husband, his face showing surprise, then a smile, a smile that suddenly warmed her heart. There was Nga. And... who was that? It was the owner of the woodworking factory where she worked.

"She's really awake! My wife is really awake!" her husband exclaimed, his voice bringing tears to her eyes.

- You're really still alive, aren't you?

"That's right," her husband, Ms. Nga, and the landlady all answered in unison.

When will you be able to go back to work?

The owner of the lumber mill took her hand, smiled, and looked at her affectionately:

- It will be a long time before you can go back to work. Try to eat well and get treatment so that your leg is completely healed before you even think about going back to work. I've heard about your situation from Nga. I'll hire your husband; he's already agreed. Don't worry.

- That's right, I'll go to work. From now on, I'll work diligently to make amends for my mistakes.

Hearing the words of the lumber mill owner and then her husband, she felt like bursting into tears.

A new, joyful feeling filled her heart. She asked her husband to slightly open the hospital room window to relieve the stuffiness. As the window opened, sunlight streamed in, brightening the room. She heard the chirping of sparrows in the foliage outside the hospital window, bringing her a sense of peace and tranquility. She suddenly realized it had been a long time since she had felt such serenity. She began to think about tomorrow, about beautiful days ahead. She and her husband would go to work; the factory job was hard, but steady, not lucrative, but with hard work and careful budgeting, they could live comfortably. Then they would pay off their debts and build a small, beautiful house to replace their dilapidated one.

Tomorrow will surely be a joyful, happy, and sunny day. She looked at her husband and smiled softly.

Le Minh Hai