Chapter 3 — A Letter to the Snowy Day

I turned away and headed home. That evening, I packed up all my belongings, waiting for Tham Dieu to return so I could break the news of our separation. Tham Dieu offered a mocking laugh and shrugged, "Fine, if you want to break up, then let's break up." I nodded slowly, then added, "Oh, by the way, I am pregnant." Tham Dieu remained staring at the television, his expression entirely devoid of emotion. "Oh, well, if you want to keep it, then keep it. If you don't, then get rid of it." I looked at the man I had loved for so many years, and after a few silent seconds, I said softly, "Very well." The following day, I went to the hospital alone and terminated the pregnancy.

After parting ways with Tham Dieu, he seemed to be living quite well. He had regained his total freedom, spending every day carousing with his friends, constantly surrounded by women far more beautiful than I. He intentionally posted extensively on his social media feeds, and I knew full well it was meant for my eyes. Just as he hoped, I began to suffer because of those updates, falling into a state of near-depression, plagued by chronic insomnia that required sleeping pills just to catch a few hours of rest.

However, I knew that living this way was not a solution. I began to devote more time to my career and my social life. Although I would still wake up in the middle of the night, weeping from dreams of our old memories, and would occasionally freeze while looking at photos on my phone, after the first two months, I truly began to emerge from the darkness. My work as a preschool teacher, surrounded by children every day, brought me joy; their smiles sometimes made me forget all my troubles. I blocked every possible connection to Tham Dieu, refusing to let that man enter my thoughts again.

In my class, there was a little girl named Vuong Lo Ham who was particularly fond of me. She often complimented my beauty and would cling to me constantly. Once, when her parents were unable to pick her up, they told me they would send her uncle instead, and as I was free, I waited at the gate with her. The girl looked up at me and asked, "Teacher, do you have a boyfriend?" I shook my head, "No, why do you ask?" She beamed, "My uncle is very handsome! Why don't you marry him? Then you can be my aunt!"

I assumed she was just joking and was about to respond when I suddenly heard her cheer, "Uncle!" I lifted my head, and against the glare of the setting sun, a tall figure approached and stopped right before me. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw his face clearly and went completely numb. He extended a hand and smiled, "Long time no see, Teacher Ky."

The little girl threw herself against his legs and turned back to me, boasting, "Teacher, isn't my uncle handsome?" He was indeed very handsome. He wore a light gray casual suit without a tie, the collar of his shirt left naturally unbuttoned; it was no exaggeration to describe him as tall and dashing. His features were naturally sharp, which easily gave off a cold impression, but his light amber eyes held a clear, genuine warmth, softening his entire face.

I had not seen this face in three years. After a long pause, I extended my hand, my voice filled with complex emotions. "Long time no see, Trinh Huu."

Trinh Huu and I were essentially childhood sweethearts. Back in primary school, when he had just transferred, he was a chubby boy who did nothing but smile foolishly all day. Because his family was extremely wealthy and he was chauffeured to school, he didn't mix with anyone and was isolated by the other children. No one paid him any mind; whenever the others played together during recess, he would sit alone, his eyes full of longing. At that time, I was incredibly naive and knew nothing of wealth or poverty; I only saw that he was pitiable. Since we sat at the same desk, I pulled him along to play with me. And one game turned into a friendship that lasted until high school.

Initially, he transferred schools because his grandparents were terminally ill and wished to return to their roots, so he followed them. For reasons unknown, even after they passed away, he remained in this small town, attending middle school and then high school with me. By then, Trinh Huu had grown slim, and many girls would secretly linger by the back door of the classroom just to catch a glimpse of him, yet he only ever associated with me. We even promised to attend the same university. I truly believed that our friendship would last forever.

Until one day after graduation, he suddenly came to find me in the middle of a downpour. I still remember how heavily it rained that day; Trinh Huu’s long lashes were wet and matted, and he pushed his hair back, revealing a sharp brow line. His eyes were bloodshot as he looked at me, his voice hoarse. "Ky Nhiem, my mother won't let me attend university in this country anymore. My father cannot hold on much longer; I must go abroad to take over the family business. Will you come with me? I will cover your tuition."

I widened my eyes, took a step back, and instinctively replied, "I’m not going anywhere. Trinh Huu, you should go by yourself." The pride of youth, having matured enough to realize the vast chasm between Trinh Huu's life and mine, had begun to surge within me. The gifts he would casually give me were sometimes worth more than my parents' monthly salaries. My clumsy sense of pride made me reject him. He looked at me for a long time, eventually gripping my hand as if pleading, "Then let's stay in contact, Ky Nhiem. Please, don't forget me, can you?"

Even though I was devastated at the time, out of a stubbornness I couldn't explain, I acted indifferent. "Yes, sure."

After that, Trinh Huu and I stayed in close contact. At the time, he was balancing his studies with the management of the family business, so busy that he only slept a few hours a day. The dark circles under his eyes were prominent, yet he insisted on video calling me every day. Whenever he had a moment of leisure, he would return to visit me, bringing gifts. That was until I met Tham Dieu. Trinh Huu repeatedly urged me to stay away from Tham Dieu, saying he was not a good person and that I should think carefully. But I was headstrong back then, pouring all my affection into Tham Dieu, ignoring Trinh Huu's calls time and time again, and slowly cutting off all contact.

The last time I saw Trinh Huu was when he returned to the country to look for me. He knew everything I had done to pursue Tham Dieu, and we had a massive argument. In the end, Trinh Huu was the one to concede, his voice trembling. "Ky Nhiem, Tham Dieu is not on the same path as you. You will not be happy with him. Please, listen to me just once!"

I was furious at the time, and without thinking, I lashed out, "We are just friends, Trinh Huu. Stop worrying about my life; you are so annoying!" I had never seen Trinh Huu’s eyes look so sorrowful. He looked at me for a long time and said softly, "Very well, Ky Nhiem. I won't bother you anymore."