By the time my pregnancy started showing, Thanh had been gone for two months. I’d sent letters to the address he’d given me—his aunt swore it was correct—but received no replies.

The village began to notice.

“Hanh’s putting on weight,” someone said at the market, their tone suggesting they knew exactly why.

“No husband yet though,” another voice added.

“Probably knocked up by some city boy who used her and ran.”

The whispers followed me everywhere. At first, I tried to hold my head high, tried to maintain my dignity. My parents believed me when I said Thanh was coming back, that there must be some explanation for his silence.

But as my belly grew and the weeks turned to months, even my father’s faith began to waver.

“Maybe you should go to the city,” he suggested one evening. “Find him yourself.”