Chapter 1 — After Forgetting Your Husband

When I woke up in the hospital, I had forgotten who my husband was. The six-year-old daughter leaned over the edge of the bed, grabbed my hand tightly and asked, "Mom, do you still remember dad Tham Duat Hanh?" I shook my head. She looked at me for a long time, buried her small face in my palm, and whispered: "That's great." I was stunned. She said again: "Even if you remember later, please continue to say you don't remember."

“If you don't miss dad, mom won't have to sit and cry in the kitchen in the middle of the night anymore.”

【Chapter 1】 When the smell of antiseptic entered my nose, I opened my eyes and was met with a cold white ceiling. The back of my head was filled with pain, the back of my right hand was holding an IV needle, and the tape was stuck tight, making my skin itchy. On the edge of the bed, there was a little girl leaning over, her hair tied into two messy tufts, her cheek pressed against my arm, her wet eyelashes sticking together. Feeling me stir, she jumped up, the chair leg rubbing against the floor created a shrill screeching sound.

“Mom.”

The girl rushed forward to hug me, but was afraid of touching the wound, her hands stopped in mid-air, her ten fingers trembling violently. My throat is dry and painful. It took me a few seconds to look at her before I could make a sound: "Are you...?" The girl's face immediately turned white. Her little lips moved, tears falling onto the blanket. The nurse next to me quickly rang the bell to call the doctor, then bent down and asked me: "Diep Tri Chi, do you remember your car accident?" Diep Tri Chi. This name was like being picked up from the bottom of the water, floating wetly in my mind. I know that's my name, but I can't remember anything else. I shook my head. The nurse asked again: "What about your family? What is your husband's name? Do you still remember?" The hospital room fell silent for a few seconds. The little girl grabbed the corner of my blanket tightly, her voice so small that it was almost drowned out by the beeping sound of the infusion machine:

“Mom, you don't remember dad Tham Duat Hanh anymore?”

Tam Duat Hanh. Very strange. I looked at her: "Who is that?" The girl looked at me with wide eyes, in those eyes there was no fear like I imagined, on the contrary, there was a bright, irrepressible light. The girl bit her lips tightly, as if she was afraid she would laugh out loud, and also as if she were afraid she would cry.

“That's your father.”

I was stunned. The nurse said softly: "Your husband hasn't come yet. I keep calling and no one answers. We've already informed your mother-in-law." The girl suddenly hugged my hand and pressed it to her chest, her face close, tears falling faster and faster.

“Mom, do you really not miss dad anymore?”

Looking at her, my heart felt like it was empty, the cold wind blew through. I have no memory of this child, but when she cried, my chest felt like someone was squeezing it, and it hurt to even breathe. I was about to reach out and pat my child's head, but as soon as I lifted my hand, the needle pulled on the skin and caused a sharp pain. She immediately held my hand: "Mom, don't move, it will hurt." Her movements are very fluent, so fluent that she doesn't look like a six-year-old child at all. At that moment, there were footsteps outside the door, and a woman wearing a long dark gray coat walked in. Her hair was neatly tied up without a single strand of tangle, and her ears were studded with pearl earrings. Seeing me awake, she frowned and glanced at the hospital bill at the head of the bed first, then spoke: "Are you awake?" I didn't reply. The nurse explains the situation: “The patient is currently suffering from retrograde amnesia After an injury, the specific recovery time is difficult to say, it's best for family members to be there to take care of them more." The woman's forehead furrowed even more: "Memory loss? Just a slight touch and you'll lose your memory? Her eyes looked at me like she was looking at an annoying broken item.

“Diep Tri Chi, you really know how to choose the right moment. Today Duat Hanh has a very important meeting, what are you crazy about on the road?"

I looked at her, my palms were cold. The little girl stood at the edge of my bed, raised her head and said: "Grandma, mom is not crazy, she was hit by a car." The woman glared: "Adults talk, why do children interfere?" Her shoulders retreated, but her feet did not step back. I saw her clutching the hem of her shirt, her knuckles turning white from the force. *Does this family usually talk to her like that?* She walked to the edge of the bed, bent down and stared at me: "Don't think that by pretending not to remember, Duat Hanh will pity you. If a husband and wife live together, how can they hang the word love on their lips every day? You yourself don't understand what's going on, and you even dragged the child into causing trouble." I didn't understand what she was saying, but I could feel every word as sharp as a knife. I asked: “Who are you?” Her face immediately darkened. The girl quickly replied: "She is grandmother." She felt as if I had slapped her in the face in a crowded place and sneered: "You don't even recognize me? Very good, Diep Tri Chi, this time you acted deeply.” I stared at the pearl in her ear, the blinding white light swaying before my eyes made my stomach churn with nausea. The doctor arrived and interrupted her. After checking the pupils and asking a few questions, the doctor said a more in-depth evaluation was needed. The woman stood next to her, impatiently dialing her phone. When the screen lit up, I vaguely saw the words saving the name: "Duat Hanh". She immediately picked up the phone, her tone softened a bit: "He's awake, he said he lost his memory, the doctor is still examining him." It's unclear what the other end of the line said. She glanced at me: "Just keep busy with your work. There's no need to rush over here. After all, you can't die yet." The little girl looked up: "Grandma!" The woman hung up the phone, bent down and scolded: “What are you yelling at? Your father is busy, isn't it enough that your mother bothers him with these things all the time?" The hospital room sank into ice again. I looked at the child's face, the edges of his eyes were red, but his teeth were clenched tightly to keep from crying. Waiting for the doctor and nurse to go out, the other woman also went to do the procedure, leaving only the two of us in the hospital room. She climbed up on the chair next to the bed, leaned close to me, and said in a very small voice:

“Mom, do you really not remember anything?”

I nodded. She looked at the door, as if to confirm no one was eavesdropping, then held my hand and pressed it to her cheek.

“So don't remember, mom, okay?”

My heart trembled slightly.

“Why?”

The girl's tears fell again, hitting the back of my hand, hot.

“Because if I remember my father, my mother will be sad.”

I want to ask her how sad I was before. But the words that reached my mouth were blocked by my thin shoulder. The child continued herself:

“My mother often sits in the kitchen in the middle of the night eating cold rice balls, crying every time she eats a bite. I asked mom if she was in pain, she said it was okay."

“Dad said mom pretended to be dead.”

“Dad said no one forced mom to get married, and no one forced her to give birth child.”

“Dad said if mom isn't happy then go away.”

My fingertips are stiff. Outside the window came the distant sound of car horns, and the hallway light shone through the gap in the hospital room door, cold as the edge of a knife. The girl put her face down, her voice choked up, buried in the blanket.

“Mom, even if you remember later, just keep saying you don't remember.”

“If you don't miss dad, mom won't have to sit and cry in the kitchen in the middle of the night anymore.”

【Chapter 2】 On the third day I was in the hospital, Tham Duat Hanh appeared.