I named him Minh, hoping he would grow up intelligent and full of light. Raising a child with no blood ties was already challenging, but doing so while living in poverty made it even harder. I borrowed money from every corner of the village, even from the policy bank, just to cover his school fees.

There were times when I survived on plain rice porridge, just so he could have a box of milk and a notebook like the other children at school.

Minh grew up smart, obedient, and quiet. He didn’t call me “mom”, just “aunt”, but I didn’t blame him. He just needed to study and become a good person.