At 36, I Married a Beggar Woman Who Later Bore Me Two Children — Until One Day, Three Luxury Cars Arrived and Revealed Her True Identity, Leaving the Entire Village in Shock…
When I turned 36, the neighbors often whispered: “At that age, still unmarried? He’ll stay single forever!” In truth, I had dated a few women before, but fate never allowed things to work out. Day after day, I spent my time quietly tending my small garden, raising chickens and ducks, living a silent life.
One late winter afternoon, while at the market, I noticed a thin woman in ragged clothes, sitting by the roadside with her hand outstretched for food. What caught my attention wasn’t her shabby appearance but her eyes — clear, gentle, yet filled with deep sorrow. I walked over and offered her some cakes and a bottle of water. She muttered a soft thank-you, her head bowed low.
Strangely, that night, I couldn’t get her image out of my mind. A few days later, I saw her again at another corner of the market, still looking just as pitiful. I sat down beside her and started a conversation. Her name was Hạnh. She had no family, no shelter, and had survived for years by begging on the streets.
Something inside me stirred. Looking into her eyes, I suddenly blurted out words that even I found reckless:
– “If you’re willing, be my wife. I’m not rich, but I can give you meals and a roof over your head.”
Hạnh’s eyes widened in disbelief. The entire market buzzed, people whispering that I must have gone mad. But after several days, she nodded. I brought her home amid the stunned gazes of the neighbors
Our wedding was simple, just a few tables of food. The village gossiped: “Khải married a beggar, nothing good will come of it.” I ignored them — all I cared about was the peace I felt in my heart.
Life afterward wasn’t easy. Hạnh was clumsy with cooking, unaccustomed to farm work. But she was diligent and willing to learn. Gradually, our once quiet house filled with laughter and the aroma of warm meals. A year later, we welcomed our first son. Two years after that, our daughter was born. Every time I heard them call out “Papa, Mama,” I knew my decision had been the best of my life.
Still, the neighbors never stopped mocking. They said I was “foolish,” that I had “married a beggar and doomed myself.” I only smiled. As long as my wife and I loved each other, I cared about nothing else.
Then one day, an unexpected event shook our lives. That morning, while I was working in the garden, the sound of engines roared outside. Not one, but three gleaming luxury cars pulled up at our gate. The whole village rushed out to see.
From the cars stepped several men in sharp suits. They looked around, then bowed respectfully to my wife:
– “Miss, at last, we’ve found you!”
The entire village held its breath. I was stunned, unable to comprehend. Hạnh’s face turned pale as she gripped my hand tightly. A middle-aged man approached, his eyes brimming with tears:
– “My daughter, I’ve been searching for you for ten long years…”
I was speechless. It turned out, my wife was not the poor beggar woman everyone believed. She was the daughter of a wealthy family, whose parents owned a vast business empire. Ten years ago, because of family conflicts over inheritance, she had run away from home, refusing to be part of the struggle. During those wandering years, she chose to live as a beggar to avoid being found.
