Chapter 19 — Calls are not allowed to be hung up

At three forty in the morning, Dan's phone rang again, not an emergency call, but Vinh's number, calling from the scene to report the situation after the medical team had stabilized the mother and taken her to the ambulance.

— Dan, everything is under control. The subject was escorted to headquarters, the mother is on her way to the hospital, her condition is stable although further monitoring is needed to rule out internal injuries. The child rode in the ambulance with her mother.

— What about the neighbors, is anyone affected?

— A few curious people came out to take a look, but no one was hurt. He reassured them, saying everything was okay and everyone had gone home to rest.

Dan nodded, even though Vinh couldn't see it, an unconscious reflex of someone who was too used to nodding when listening on the phone. Her fingers were still shaking slightly as she held the pen to note down every detail Vinh had just provided.

— Thank you, thank you very much.

— Dan, there's something I think you should know. Before getting in the car, she asked the name of the person who talked to her all night. The nurse told me my name again, and the girl said, "my name is Bao Nhi, tell me Miss Dan saved me".

Dan stood silently, both hands holding the phone, a simple name but containing a long night of pain and hope: Bao Nhi. After nearly five hours of only knowing the girl through a whispered voice, through the sound of typing, and through soft breaths, she finally had the simplest thing that every other normal call has from the beginning: a name.

She remembered every little detail that had pieced together the image of that child in her head all night: the slight lisp in his voice on the "s" sound, the way he called "uncle" instead of "dad", the habit of standing and watching the train pass by the window when he couldn't sleep, the wisdom beyond the age of eight when he knew how to use typing and breathing to communicate in danger. All those disparate pieces now have a name to attach to them, a real person, no longer the "anonymous little girl" in her notes.

— Bao Nhi. — Dan repeated, her voice shaking. — Thank you for telling me.

— I think you deserve to know. Well, I have to go make a record, I'll contact you later.

The call ended. Dan put down the phone and looked at Anh Tuyet, who had just heard the entire conversation through the speaker volume that was still on.

— Bao Nhi. — Anh Tuyet smiled slightly, her eyes also shone a little wet. — A beautiful name for a brave little girl.

— I'm still in shock. All night long I kept wondering, what was that girl's name, what did she look like, and now I have the answer to the first question.

— Then you will have the opportunity to learn more about her, when the child protection team comes in and the long-term support process begins. Tonight is just the first step, Dan.

Dan nodded, realizing that although tonight had ended the most urgent danger, the journey ahead for Bao Nhi and her mother was still very long, with interviews, meetings with lawyers, other sleepless nights that she would never witness in person, she could only hope that everything would go smoothly.

Long, still standing nearby, cleared his throat. His voice returned to its usual seriousness, although his eyes still held a bit of emotion that had not yet been fully hidden.

— Dan, you still need to complete the full shift report before the end of your shift. I will take separate notes about tonight's situation, attaching the entire recording as evidence of your decision.

— Yes, I understand.

— I also need to make one thing clear to you. — Long continued, his voice becoming more serious. — Just because I allowed tonight's situation to happen does not mean that all procedures will be relaxed from now on. I will still have to fully report the incident to my superiors, and there will be a formal review of how we handled this situation, including your decision and mine.

— I understand that clearly, sir. I'm ready for that review, whatever the outcome.

Long nodded, did not say anything more, just placed a hand on Dan's shoulder for a moment, a short gesture but enough to convey what words could hardly express completely between a superior and a subordinate in a situation like this.

— And I will also contact the child protection team as soon as they start work this morning, so they can receive and monitor the case of baby Bao Nhi and her mother, ensuring there is a long-term support plan, not just stopping tonight.

Dan nodded, a feeling of relief gradually spreading throughout his body, but at the same time a deep fatigue began to set in, the kind of fatigue that can only appear after all the extreme stress has passed, leaving a void that needs to be filled with rest.

She reopened the system, looking for the sixth call record, the call was still in the "connecting" state on the screen even though the child had no longer held the phone for a long time, perhaps the phone had been put back in her mother's pocket or dropped somewhere in the chaos. Dan looked at that text for a long time, then slowly pressed the button to end the call, the first time this night she proactively did that, instead of letting the line disconnect itself or someone interrupting her.

It was the longest call of her eight-year career, lasting four hours and fifty-three minutes, from the first moment she picked up the phone, hearing a whisper, nine seconds until this moment. She wrote down that number in the report, her hands were no longer shaking, only a strange calm remained, the calm of a person who has just completed something that she knows for sure she must do, even though the price to pay may lie ahead.

She looked back at the entire timeline of tonight recorded by the automatic system: six calls, a total of nearly ten minutes of face-to-face conversation spread over a call lasting nearly five hours, interspersed with dozens of other unrelated calls that she still had to handle in parallel, a traffic accident, a case of poisoning, an old lady falling, all completed according to the procedure even though her mind was always partially focused on the silent phone waiting for the next call from her. Bao Nhi.

Looking back, she realized that this night was not just the story of a single over-the-top decision, but a series of small decisions, made continuously, one by one, each based on the merest possible scraps of information, and all combined to create tonight's outcome.

Bao Ky, sitting next to her, gave her a glass of water, didn't say much, just nodded slightly, a simple but meaningful gesture after all he had witnessed and the initial doubts he had expressed.

— Thank you, Ky.

— I'm the one who should thank you. I learned more tonight than any other training session I have ever participated in during my year of working.

— I will learn more, Ky. What happened tonight doesn't always happen, and I hope you never think that it's right to go beyond the process. Tonight was just one case, and just because it worked doesn't mean the formula is always right.

Bao Ky nodded, his eyes were unusually serious compared to his usual youthful appearance.

- I know. But I also understand one more thing, that sometimes believing in your colleagues is just as important as believing in the process.

Dan smiled, took a sip of water, clearly feeling the thirst that she had not noticed during the past few stressful hours. She looked around the on-call room, where the work rhythm had begun to return to normal, the phone ringing sporadically rang out at a few other tables, the keyboard was typing steadily, as if the whole room had never experienced the last four hours and fifty-three minutes of extreme tension.

Anh Tuyet stood up, stretched, glanced at the clock.

— There are more than three hours left until the shift ends. Take a break, Dan, drink water, eat something, then go back to work as usual. This night is still long, and there are still many others out there who need us.

— Yes sister, I know.

Outside the window, the sky was still dark, but on the far horizon, perhaps just an illusion of a tired mind, she thought she saw a very faint streak of light, signaling that dawn was not too far away.