2:00 a.m. The shift is over.

The air is freezing! The temperature right now is a flat zero. The bitter cold of winter, together with the loneliness of the empty room, chills me to the core. Overtime hours!

Wearily, I step away from the sewing machine, throw on my wool coat and leave the workshop. When I get back to the little room, everyone is already asleep. I gently set my phone and coat on the bed, grab my pajamas and go to shower. The hot steam on my face is so refreshing; it feels as if all the dust on my face is coming loose and falling to the floor, and my body is finding its life again, turning rosy once more and shaking off all those “freeloaders.” I want to stay wrapped in this hot steam forever, but I'm afraid of catching a cold, so I shower quickly and go back to the room. I pick up the phone: it's already 2:30 a.m. “It's about 23:30 in Vietnam now,” I mumble. “Never mind, I'll go to sleep. I'll call another time.”

I toss and turn, but I still can't close my eyes. The room has grown warmer from the warmth of other people, but nothing can warm the cold in my soul. I miss home, I miss my daughter. Tomorrow is her birthday. Tomorrow my daughter turns ten, which also means I have been away from home for three years. On that earlier birthday of hers, I left her with her grandmother and came to this faraway country where I have no family at all. And somehow three years have already gone by. I scroll back to her photo on my phone. She looks so chubby! Her big round eyes sparkle, with double eyelids, and her little heart-shaped lips are pursed so sweetly. Oh! She looks exactly like her father. Just thinking of that makes my heart ache.

He and I worked at the same garment company. After dating for a little over half a year, we got married. On our wedding day, people were rather surprised, but everyone was happy for the young couple who seemed so well matched. A year after the wedding, I gave birth to Hạ Vy. She was welcomed into the arms of both families. But from then on, my life changed. He often went out drinking and came home tipsy. He neglected his work and no longer worked hard to earn a living as he once had, so life became hard and the atmosphere at home grew cold. Life in the city was a struggle. I wanted to find some extra work to help my husband, but I was completely helpless because my little girl was still too young: she needed her mother's arms, she needed my warmth. He became more and more difficult and domineering. Every time he came home from work he was irritable and bad-tempered, and he scolded me. Whenever I did something that didn't please him, he would bring it up and blame me. Once, the soup I made was a little salty, and he dumped his whole bowl of rice and said: “You're useless, good for nothing, nothing but a freeloader.” I froze! My husband had just called me a freeloader. It was so cruel. I couldn't believe my own ears. But I thought he must be tired from work, so I said nothing, just quietly cleared the table and did the housework. But even a worm will turn when trodden on, and so it went until my husband and I came to blows.. The small, warm house turned gloomy, dark and cold, heavy with the smell of fear. My child's crying and my husband's loud taunts filled a corner of the house. I could only endure it in silence, alone at night in the cold room. I felt lost in the very place where I had built my dreams of happiness for so long.

Tonight he did not come home!

Then six months went by, and I went back to work. All my coworkers were glad to see me back at my post. Meeting again after so long, everyone was openly happy, with more happy stories than we could tell. And I found myself again through my work. Lunch break. We went down to the company canteen for lunch. I had just picked up a meal and was looking for a table when an older friend pulled me by the arm to sit and eat with her. After chattering for a while, she leaned toward my ear and whispered: “I'll tell you something, but it's just for you to know, don't tell anyone.”

– Okay. Go ahead. You know me. When have I ever gossiped with anyone!

– Right! Remember that. I'm only telling you because I care about you. Scoot closer and I'll tell you!

I pulled my chair closer, and she leaned right up to my ear, glancing around as she spoke.

– I see your husband hanging around a lot with Nga from the next team. Every day they come to work together and go home together. At lunch your husband goes and gets her meal for her. That girl over there,” she pointed. “The short one with short hair and fair skin, standing next to the security guard. I hear she's always out ‘fishing’ for men. Be careful, or you'll lose your husband before you know it.”

Like a bolt from the blue! I couldn't believe a single word she had just “poured” into my ear. The man I loved was extremely decent, no womanizer, always caring for his wife and family. Was that only the man he used to be, and had he changed now? A hot rush came from somewhere up through my legs and gathered in my chest, then lodged in my throat with nowhere left to go. Bitter!

– Hoa! Hoa! she called to me.

– What is it? I'm still listening.

– Oh. I thought you weren't listening, since you weren't saying anything.

– Heh. I gave a thin smile. – Men these days are often like that. Oh well, let it go. We should try to be a bit more easygoing about it.

– There's really no other woman like you! She glanced at me and went on. “If it were me, I'd slash her face to ribbons. A woman who goes around stealing other people's husbands can't be forgiven.”

– But if our husband had no interest, how could someone else push her way in? If anyone is to blame, we have to blame our own husband first.

– I suppose that's true. Sigh. As they say: “Being born a woman is hard enough; choosing the wrong man for your life is even harder.” Never truer words!

Pain! My feelings were such a mess, all tangled up. I didn't know how to put them back in order. What woman isn't jealous over her husband? Especially the man to whom I had given my whole heart and my whole life, the man who once loved me passionately, without calculation or self-interest. The man who had sworn to stay by my side forever was now turning toward a strange woman. Holding back my tears so that others wouldn't get curious, and to protect his reputation, I struggled through the rest of the workday. At last I was back in our little house. After dinner, I asked him quietly:

– Do you know a girl called Nga on Team A?

– No! Why?

– Heh. It's nothing, honey. I just heard some silly talk. It's probably just a groundless rumor; my husband is a very serious man. Right, honey?

– Don't listen to gossip and then come home talking nonsense! You're such a busybody. Typical woman! All you're good for is gossip. Good for nothing.

– But I didn't say anything. I only said that….

– Just shut up! You talk too much. You're giving me a headache! he shouted.

– I didn't say anything. If you're not like that, why are you getting so angry? I argued back.

– Smack! The slap struck my face like a thunderbolt. Everything went dark. My trust collapsed with that slap.

It hurt so much! But nothing compared to the gut-wrenching pain writhing in my soul.

– Stop talking so much. I'm tired! Don't make me any angrier.

Could it really be? “Why have you changed so fast? Where is the calm, soft-spoken man who always ‘won people's hearts’ before? What has made you like this? Is it because I'm not good enough, or because of that woman?”

When the pain becomes too much to bear, when longing and happiness dissolve and roll back into the heart like ocean waves, that is when the tears fall. What abyss have I fallen into, so deep? Where is it? I cannot tell yet. All around me is a dark alley, without a single path to lead the way. The edge of the abyss is covered in slippery moss; I have tried to cling to it and climb out, but it is so slippery that I keep grabbing and keep sliding back. How do I get out? What do I do?

Then one day I understood: some people come and go, passing briefly through part of each other's lives with one single mission, to remind us of the value of pain. So that in the days to come, when we face days that look like the old ones, we will tell ourselves to stop before judging right and wrong, so as not to wound a part of our memories. Divorce! One short word, but a long process. He built a new happiness. I quit my job at the company. Luckily, a friend introduced me to work abroad as a migrant laborer in Russia. Dreaming of changing my life, forgetting the painful past and finding new happiness in that faraway place, I decided to take the “quick and easy” route: going illegally.

Only when I set foot in a foreign land did I see clearly how mistaken and deluded I had been. The sudden cold, the crowded and cramped lodgings, all strangers. We were not allowed to go out without the owner's permission. Working hours were always twelve hours a day, and with overtime they went up to fourteen or fifteen. Confinement and no rights: that is what I got. Hard, grueling work; the monthly pay was higher than at home, but living costs were many times higher too. We were workers with no papers and no protection; in other words, illegal migrants. If you tried to run away and the boss caught you, you would be brutally tortured. And when the police came to check, everyone scattered in every direction, every man for himself. In Moscow the streets are buried in snow, and Vietnamese people have short legs, so when we ran, the snow came up to our knees. Chilblains “ate” our bare legs, which swelled up red and sometimes even bled. Agony! But we had to bear it. I had made my bed, and now I had to lie in it. I missed home! But I couldn't go back, because my contract wasn't over yet. And I couldn't run away either.

I used to think that if I wanted to cry, I could cry right away, that tears would spill out whenever I wanted. But now I know that tears, too, have their own journey. Every tear carries a long voyage within it, rising from the heart to the corner of the eye. Every tear carries the shape of loneliness, rolling from the corner of the eye past the nose like a long trail of grief and sorrow, like a drop of dew falling in the dead of night. A choking feeling, unspoken and endlessly deep. And every tear also carries an arrow that grazes the salty lips: sometimes swallowed back down while the heart burns, sometimes, with teeth clenched, left to run the whole length of the face until it all bursts out.

– Hoa! Hoa!.

I woke with a start.

– Trúc, were you calling me? What is it? I was asleep.

– I heard you mumbling something. I thought you were having a nightmare, so I called you. Anyway, it's eight o'clock; get up and get ready to go back to work.

– But we don't start until ten! Oh well! I might as well get up!

– Hoa, are you crying? Why are your eyes so wet? Trúc stared at me.

– Oh, no! It's just from lying on my side. I wiped away a few tears, smiled faintly and said.

The divorce is done; what is left for me to regret? From now on I will try to forget that painful past and live well for my dear mother and my daughter. I will not let anything distract me again. I pick up the phone and call.

– Hello! My daughter's clear little voice rang out on the other end of the line.

– Hạ Vy, sweetheart? It's Mommy Hoa!

– Mommy? I miss you so much, Mommy! Why did you go so far away? Why don't you come home to me? She burst into tears.

I couldn't stay strong any longer. Her tears and mine flowed together as one. In that moment I was like an addict craving a fix: I wanted her beside me, wanted to hold her tight to ease my longing, wanted to tie her to me so we would never be apart again. But I couldn't break down in front of her. I had to set a good example and teach her to be strong. I cleared my throat softly:

– Mommy will come home to you for Tết (Lunar New Year). Be good, don't cry. Study hard and listen to Grandma, okay? At Tết I'll bring you lots of presents and toys. And today is my darling girl's birthday. You're one year older now. You're a big girl, so no crying, okay? What present would you like Mommy to buy when I come home?

– I just want you to come home to me. Her voice was tiny.

– Yes. Mommy will come home.

– Promise, Mommy! Oh, bring me a doll to play with. I'll sew lots of clothes for the doll so she'll be as pretty as my mommy. She laughed and went on. – But remember, you have to come home to me. My friends keep saying I have no dad and no mom, that I'm an orphan. That I'm a stray Grandma picked up off the street. Her lips trembled.

I froze at my child's words. My ears were ringing. “No dad and no mom”? “A stray”? Oh, my little girl. My heart wrenched. I had left her such a deep wound. How could I ever make it up to her? Two tears rolled down my cheeks, their skin worn by the years, and would not dry.

– My good girl! You do have a mother, right here! Your friends are lying, they're just teasing you. This Tết Mommy will definitely come home. Mommy will never be away from you again. No matter what, I'll always be by your side, protecting you. You are my joy and my happiness. I won't go searching anywhere else anymore. You're all I need. My little rose.

– Hee hee. Yay! I'm going to see Mommy soon! She laughed, her eyes crinkling. – Oh! Mommy, do you want to hear me sing? My teacher just taught me a song today.

– Yes. Sing it for Mommy.

“I have a dad, and I have a mom

Mom loves me like a mountain stream

Since I was born, Mom has cradled me like an egg

And held me like a flower……”

Ah! So sometimes tears are not shed for what has passed, but for the things in our hearts we cannot say aloud. Mommy's happiness! Mommy's joy! Mommy's life! To the world you are just one tiny cell, but to Mommy you are the whole world. Wait for Mommy, okay! My darling! It won't be long now.