Chapter 17 — At the end of the week when I was fired, I made the 3.9 billion contract into waste paper

But when the car drove through the big gate. I still recognize each row of trees. Every street lamp. Even the flower bed in the front yard. Nothing has changed. It's like time has stopped here. The butler's hair has turned a lot gray. As soon as he saw me getting out of the car, his eyes turned red.

"Miss."

I nodded slightly.

"Uncle Tran."

He laughed. But the eyes are redder.

"It's good to be back."

"It's good to be back."

I don't know how to answer. Just quietly walked inside. The big door just opened. A familiar smell of food immediately came. My mother is coming out of the kitchen. Still wearing the apron. See me. She stood still for a few seconds. Then immediately walked quickly.

"You're skinny."

The first sentence is still the same sentence. Don't ask for work. Don't ask what happened in the past few days. I'm skinny. I haven't even opened my mouth yet. Mom reached out to adjust my collar for me. Just like when I was in high school.

"Is it cold outside?"

"Not cold."

"Have you eaten yet?"

"Then come in and eat."

She pulled me straight towards the dining room. I just raised my head and saw my father. He is sitting in the chair position. Hand holding newspaper. But after a few minutes I walked in. He never turned the page. Obviously I couldn't read any of the words. Heard noise. He raised his head. His eyes stopped on me. Then quickly turned away.

"You're back."

"Sit down to eat."

I suddenly felt a bit funny. Seven years without seeing each other. An outsider would have thought we had only been apart for seven days. The atmosphere in the dining room was a bit awkward. My mother kept picking up food. My brother sat next to me, trying to find a topic to talk about. Only my father remained very quiet from beginning to end. But I quickly discovered something. The chair I'm sitting in. Still the same position. Even the cushion on the chair is the light blue color I used to like. I looked around.

"Don't we have any guests at home?"

My mother was stunned.

"Why do you ask?"

"This chair..."

I pointed down.

"Still the same."

My mother looked at the chair. Then laugh.

"It was originally mine."

"What are other people doing sitting there?"

I stopped. My brother next to me couldn't help but laugh.

"She doesn't even know."

Mom immediately glanced at him. But he still continued talking.

"Seven years now."

"No one can sit in this position."

I turned my head to look at my father. He is still picking up food. Like this has nothing to do with me. But the tip of his ear turned slightly red. Tham Nghien smiled and said:

"Once a guest came to the house."

"Sitting in the wrong place."

"Dad even asked someone to change chairs."

My mother finally couldn't help but laugh.

"Alright."

"Stop talking."

I looked at the chair under me. Suddenly I felt a sting in my nose. The meal continued. Everyone tried very hard to make the atmosphere more natural. But seven years of separation isn't something a few words can make up for. Eat at once. My mother suddenly stood up. From the kitchen brought out a small cake. I was a bit stunned.

"Today is not my birthday."

"Not."

"But it's been seven years."

"Now I have the opportunity to have a meal with my children."

I looked at the cake. My heart suddenly sank. Mom sat next to me. The voice is very light.

"You know what?"

"Every year on my birthday."

I raised my head.

"Your father told the servants to prepare an extra set of bowls and chopsticks."

My hand stopped. Mom continue:

"Even if you don't come back."

"He still said to leave it there."

"He said what if I want to come back this year."

The dining room immediately became quiet. Even Tham Nghien stopped talking. I turned to look at my father. He still bowed his head to eat. But the speed is clearly much slower than usual. A moment later. He put down his chopsticks. The voice is still as stiff as ever.

"If you eat rice, you eat rice."

"What's the point of talking so much?"

My mother laughed. I also laughed. But for some reason my eyes felt a bit hot. ________________________________________ Finished eating. Mom went to prepare fruit. My brother got a phone call. My father went upstairs to handle work. I walk alone in the house. Everything is familiar. Like it never changed. Go through the second floor hallway. I unconsciously stopped walking. Dad's office door is slightly open. The light inside is still on. I was originally going to knock on the door. But at that moment. A wind blew from the balcony. The door opened slightly wider. I looked inside. Then stood frozen in place. The whole wall opposite the desk. Do not hang pictures. Do not hang calligraphy. Nor did I hang the investment certificate like I thought. There are countless photo frames. Photo of me participating in the conference. Photo of me receiving the certificate of merit. Photo of me standing on stage giving a speech. Photo of me signing the contract. Photo of me being appointed project manager. Photo of me becoming Director of Risk Control. There's even a photo of me working overtime at two in the morning. Don't know where it was taken from. One by one. Arranged in chronological order. Almost documenting my entire past seven years. I stood outside the door. The first time I felt my heart being squeezed by something.