Forty years later, I still live alone in a small house at the end of the village, where the evening winds blow through the bamboo rows, carrying the fragrant aroma of rice. Ha village, where I was born and raised, is an idyllic place, but the people here are harsh to those who do not follow the familiar way. At this age, I am used to the probing eyes, the whispers behind my back: “Little Linh, pretty, educated, why don’t you always get married?” My mother, a woman who had worked her whole life for me, became more and more impatient. “Linh, I don’t have much time to live. You get married, let me rest assured!” My mother’s words were like a knife to my heart, but I just laughed and avoided. Love, for me, is a luxury that is not easy to find.

Until one day, my mother, almost desperate, dragged me out into the yard, pointed to the patchy wall of the old house and said, “If you don’t get married, you won’t be able to close your eyes!” I sighed, not wanting my mother to be sad more. And then, through a matchmaker in the village, I met Mr. Tam – a 65-year-old man with salt and pepper hair, a calm appearance but with the reputation of “having passed four wives”. The villagers whispered, calling him an “old flower digger” who didn’t know how to appreciate women. I don’t care much. For me, this is just a way to make a mother happy, a marriage without love and hope. I nodded in agreement, and the wedding was dated.

When the wedding day came, the village hall was empty. There was not a single person, except for my mother, a few relatives, and Mr. Tam with a gentle smile. The villagers didn’t want to come. They told me to be “greedy for money” and “sell my life cheaply” when I married an old man who had been divorced four times. The wedding music sounded lonely, as if mocking my loneliness. I wore a red dress, stood next to Mr. Tam, my heart was heavy. He took my hand and whispered, “Don’t be sad, Linh. Today is our happy day.” I nodded, but I felt empty inside.

The first surprise occurred in the middle of the ceremony. When the parish priest had just finished reading the blessing, a loud noise sounded outside the gate. I was startled, turned around, and saw a truck full of fresh flowers stopped in front of the hall. Workers in uniform began carrying large baskets of flowers of all kinds—daisies, roses, coins—that filled the aisles. My mother was surprised and asked, “Who did this?” Mr. Tam smiled, did not answer, just signaled me to wait.

Then, from among the workers, a group of village children rushed in, holding handwritten cards and scribbled but sincere handwriting. A little girl, a neighbor’s sister’s child, ran in front of me and handed me a card: “Ms. Linh, Uncle Tam told us to write your wishes. You’re very good, don’t be sad!” I held the card and read the innocent words: “Wishing Ms. Linh happiness forever!” My heart suddenly warmed, but I still didn’t understand what was happening.

The second surprise stunned the whole hall. From outside the gate, groups of villagers began to come. They don’t wear beautiful clothes, they don’t bring gifts, but everyone’s faces are radiant. Ms. Hang, the most gossipy person in the village, walked in and hugged me: “Linh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know Mr. Tam was so good!” I was dumbfounded, before I had time to ask, Mr. Tam walked up to the podium, held the microphone, and a deep voice rang out.

“Dear people, today is a happy day for me and Linh. I knew that people were disagreeable, thinking that I wasn’t worthy of her. I used to have four wives, yes, but not because I was digging flowers or being a widow. They leave because I can’t give them complete happiness, because I’ve spent my life fixing a big mistake.” The whole hall was silent. Mr. Tam said, his voice choked up: “Thirty years ago, I once caused an accident, causing a person to lose his legs. I ran away, but my conscience did not forgive. I go back and take care of that person for the rest of my life, even though they don’t accept me. My four wives left because they couldn’t bear the life of a husband who was always in debt to love.”

I was stunned, tears rolled down my face. The villagers began to whisper, but this time it was amazement and admiration. Mr. Tam continued: “Yesterday, I did something that I hope will make up for some of my mistakes. I donated all my land and savings to build a new school for Ha village. The children will not have to go to school far away. And I want Linh – the woman I cherish – to continue these good things with me.”

The last surprise is also what makes the whole village change. From outside the gate, a man in a wheelchair was pushed in. It was Mr. Hung – who had an accident in the past caused by Mr. Tam. Mr. Hung stood up, despite the difficulty, and held Mr. Tam’s hand: “I have forgiven you for a long time. Today, I came to bless you.” The whole hall burst into applause. The villagers, from the people who used to be reserved, now came, hugged me, blessed me, apologized for the misunderstanding. Ms. Hang cried: “Linh, I’m very lucky. Mr. Tam is not only good to me, but to the whole village.”

I looked at Mr. Tam, the man I had thought was a reluctant choice. Now, I see in him a big heart, a man who dares to face his mistakes and live for others. The wedding ended not only in laughter, but also in happy tears. The villagers stayed until late at night, singing together, as if the whole village was holding a festival. I held Mr. Tam’s hand, secretly promising to continue writing the story of kindness, of love that grew from the most unexpected things.