Hoang strides ahead of his friends, breathing in the crisp air, his boots crunching on loose gravel. The path feels endless, but the sense of freedom is intoxicating; the world is his to conquer, and responsibility a distant thought. He jokes with his friends, his laughter ringing out beneath the canopy, completely at ease in his element.
Hoang[/@ch_1]'s eye.]
Curiosity piqued, Hoang kneels and brushes away the dirt, revealing an old, tarnished wedding ring. The inscription inside is nearly illegible: “Fate is fulfilled when you accept.” "Look at this—anyone ever seen a ring like this before?" His friends gather around, but none recognize it. Shrugging, Hoang slips the ring onto his finger, grinning at the oddity—until a sudden wave of dizziness overtakes him and the world spins into darkness.
Hoang[/@ch_1]'s vision. The air is thick with the scent of roses and fresh linen. When the brightness fades, Hoang finds himself in an ornate bridal suite, sunlight streaming through lace curtains onto polished wood floors.]
Hoang gasps, staring at his reflection in a gilded mirror—a beautiful woman in a flowing white wedding dress, hair cascading over bare shoulders, cheeks flushed and eyes wide with shock. Panicking, he tugs at the ring, but it won’t budge. "No, no, this can’t be happening..." High heels pinch his feet as he staggers, disoriented and utterly transformed.
No one recognizes Hoang as himself; instead, people call him “Khánh’s wife.” Faces blur, but one name—Khánh—stands out, flickering through Hoang's mind in flashes of memory: gentle laughter, shared embraces, whispered promises. Hoang grasps at these images, feeling lost, trapped in a life he doesn’t know, his voice soft and strange in his own ears.
Hoang[/@ch_1]—now called Hoa—her hands trembling as she struggles to adapt.]
Morning sickness wracks her body, back pain lingers, and her swelling belly is a constant reminder of the impossible. Clothes feel foreign, her gait awkward, and every movement a battle. At night, Hoa curls up and weeps in silence, mourning her lost freedom, feeling her identity slip away with every passing day.
Hoa[/@ch_1] sits on the edge of her bed, hands resting on her pregnant belly, when she feels a gentle, unmistakable kick from within.]
Time seems to slow, and a surge of emotion wells up. Hoa whispers softly, "Hello, little one. I’m here with you. I promise I’ll take care of us." A shift takes place—pain is replaced by a tentative tenderness as she begins to care for herself, eating healthy meals, practicing gentle yoga, and speaking to her unborn child every night. The world feels new again, colored by hope rather than fear.
Hoa[/@ch_1] grips Khánh's hand—now familiar and beloved—as she brings new life into the world.]
As the baby's cry fills the air, the wedding ring glows with a warm, golden light—then shatters, falling in pieces to the floor. But Hoa does not mourn the loss of her old self. She cradles her child, tears of joy streaming down her cheeks, and whispers, "This is where I belong. I am your mother, and I am home."
