Chapter 8 — A Sweetness Forgotten

Three months passed faster than Diệp Chi thought, and more cruelly than she had ever prepared herself for.

The graduation exam takes place right at the most stressful time of debt. Diệp Chi entered the exam room with dark circles under her eyes from sleepless nights, her mind divided into two halves - one half trying to focus on the exam, the other half still reeling from the debt numbers that were counting down each day.

She still completed the exam with excellent results, enough points to get into any university she wanted. In the evening, after getting her grades, Thế Khôi brought a small bouquet of flowers hastily bought at a store near the school, her face beaming with congratulations, unaware that behind Diệp Chi's forced smile was a rock weighing heavily on her shoulders.

"I passed as valedictorian, let's celebrate!" He spoke with a rare excitement in his voice, dragging her out for a small meal at a restaurant near the school to congratulate her.

Diệp Chi laughed along, trying to appear happy, but her mind was still constantly reeling with the approaching three-month deadline, with the constant debt collection calls from the bank that her mother received every day. The joy of being valedictorian, which should have been the most brilliant moment of being eighteen, is now only a thin shell hiding the fear roiling inside.

That joy only lasted one evening, before the storm really hit.

On the Monday morning after the exam, when Diệp Chi was preparing food with her mother as usual, a group of strangers appeared in front of the tea shop, holding a stack of papers, with a cold and rigid attitude.

"This is a decision to recover mortgaged assets in accordance with regulations," the man leading the group said, his voice monotonous as if reading a document. "The family has three days to arrange relocation, after which we will proceed with legal sealing."

Ms. Ngọc Lành stood dumbfounded, her hands trembling as she held the stack of papers, her eyes filled with tears, unable to read a single word. Diệp Chi stood beside her, holding her mother's hand tightly, trying to keep her spirits up even though inside she felt the whole world was collapsing under her feet.

"Is there no other way?" Diệp Chi asked, her voice shaking but still trying to stay calm. "Can we extend the time?"

"The family has already been extended once, miss," the man replied, his voice unwavering. "The legal process cannot drag on any longer."

The group left, leaving mother and child standing in the middle of the small tea shop, surrounded by old plastic tables and chairs that had been together for more than twenty years, and were now about to leave forever.

"Mom..." Diệp Chi hugged her mother, both sobbing in the quiet morning of Lá Me alley, their cries mixed with the sound of tamarind leaves rustling in the wind.

***

The next three days were the most chaotic time of Diệp Chi's life. She and her mother hurriedly packed up their belongings and found a temporary place to live - eventually a tiny rented room in the suburbs, far from the city center, far from the Đông Hòa High School that she had been with for three years.

She quit school without warning anyone, including Tường Vy - her best friend for many years. She also changed her phone number to a new number, cutting off all old contacts, as a way to protect herself from the questions and pitiful looks that she knew would surely come if someone knew the truth.

But she cannot avoid Thế Khôi forever.

On the afternoon of the second day since the tea shop was sealed, when Diệp Chi and her mother were loading the last items onto a rented small truck, a familiar car stopped at the end of the alley. Thế Khôi stepped down and rushed over, his face full of panic and worry.

"Diệp Chi! What's going on?" He asked, looking around at the chaotic scene—sealing signs posted on the shop door, furniture piled up waiting to be moved, the haggard faces of both mother and child.

Diệp Chi stood dumbfounded, not knowing how to explain. "Nothing, just... moving house."

"Moving house? Why is there a seal on the shop door?" Thế Khôi stepped closer, his voice filled with confusion. "Diệp Chi, tell me, what happened?"

She looked at him, looked at those sincere worried eyes, and for a moment, she almost gave up, almost told everything. But then she looked down at his pure white uniform, at the shiny car parked at the end of the alley, and a strong sense of pride rose in her heart.

"My family owes money, the shop was confiscated," she spoke frankly, trying to keep her voice calm but unable to hide her toughness. "Now we have to move somewhere else."

"How much debt? Let me help," Thế Khôi said immediately, without any hesitation. "Can I say dad—"

"No," Diệp Chi interrupted, her voice so decisive that even she was surprised by her toughness. "I don't need your help. This is my family's matter, I will handle it myself."

"But—"

"Thế Khôi, please." She looked straight into his eyes, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to flow. "I know you mean well. But I don't want to owe anyone more, not even you. Especially you."

"Why 'especially me'?" Thế Khôi asked, his voice a bit hurt.

Diệp Chi was silent, unable to answer immediately. How could she explain that, precisely because her feelings for him were so important, she could not let them be tainted by money, by feelings of gratitude, because the gap between rich and poor was now clearer than ever, no longer an abstract distance but a real abyss separating the two of them.

"Because I don't want you to look at me with pity," she said finally, her voice trembling. "I don't want our relationship to become a matter of giving and receiving favors. I want to stand on equal footing with you, even if only in my own thoughts."

"Diệp Chi, being equal does not mean refusing to help when in difficulty," Thế Khôi said, his voice earnest. "Friends, relatives, everyone needs to help each other in times of need. That's not a favor."

"Not for you," Diệp Chi replied, her voice choked. "But for me, yes. You don't understand what it's like to have to turn your back to receive money from someone... from someone you care about."

Mrs. Ngọc Lành, standing nearby and witnessing the entire conversation, walked over and placed her hand on her daughter's shoulder, her voice gentle but determined. "You go home, son. Thank you for your kindness, but this is a family matter you have to resolve yourself."

Thế Khôi looked at mother and son, clearly feeling that an invisible wall had just been built between him and Diệp Chi, a wall that no matter how hard he tried, he could not break at this moment.

"Alright," he said, his voice low, full of helplessness. "But Diệp Chi, at least tell me where you will move to. So I can contact you."

Diệp Chi looked at him for a long time, her eyes were red, then gently shook her head. "I don't know exactly yet. Let me settle down and let you know later."

That's a lie. She knew exactly where mother and daughter would move to - a small room in a suburban industrial park, completely far away from their old life. But she couldn't tell the truth, not because she didn't trust him, but because she knew that if she told him the address, he would definitely come to her and continue to ask for help, and she was afraid that her fragile self-esteem wouldn't be enough to withstand it again.

The small truck started the engine, preparing to roll off. Diệp Chi climbed into the passenger seat, not daring to look back, afraid that if she saw Thế Khôi's hurt face standing in the middle of the alley, she would no longer have the courage to leave.

But through the rearview mirror, she still saw his silhouette standing there, standing for a long time in the middle of Leaf Me alley gradually disappearing, not moving at all, like a silent statue in the middle of a sunset tinged with separation.

After the car drove for a while, Mrs. Ngọc Lành glanced at her daughter and saw Diệp Chi biting her lips, clutching her shirt with both hands to suppress her sobs. She didn't say anything, just quietly placed her hand on her child's knee, a wordless gesture of comfort in a situation that she herself didn't know how to comfort.

"You did the right thing," she finally said, her voice hoarse from crying so much. "Don't let that boy take on our family's problems. He has a long future ahead of him."

"I know, mom." Diệp Chi turned to face the window, looking at the familiar rows of houses passing by day by day, her heart ached. "But why do I still feel...so sorry." Mrs. Ngọc Lành did not answer, just sighed, looked forward, where a new path was opening up in front of mother and daughter, as dark and uncertain as the future that both of them were about to face together, with no way back.