Chapter 10 — Contract of the Heart

The opportunity for Thảo Nguyên to ask her grandmother directly about the old photo came sooner than she thought. Tuesday evening, when the whole family had finished eating, Mrs. Xuân sat on the porch, holding a fan in her hand, looking out at the yard that gradually darkened with the afternoon shadow. Thảo Nguyên brought out two cups of lotus tea and sat down next to her.

"Grandma," she started, trying to keep her voice as gentle as possible. "I'm curious about that black and white photo in the album. Is that person really just an old classmate?"

Mrs. Xuân was silent for a long time, her hand stopped fanning, her eyes looked distantly at the stars peeking out from behind the trees. Thảo Nguyên thought she would avoid it like the previous two times, but this time, perhaps because of the quiet atmosphere of the evening, or because she was too used to her niece's curious eyes, she sighed and put down the fan.

"That person's name is Bảo Tín," she said, her voice low, carrying a deep nostalgia that Thảo Nguyên had never seen in her before. "It was her first love, when she was seventeen or eighteen years old."

Thảo Nguyên held her breath, not daring to speak, afraid of interrupting this rare flow of memories.

"Back then, my family was poor, while his family was much better off," Ms. Xuân continued, her voice monotonous as if she were narrating a story that had been kept in her heart for too long. "His grandparents objected strongly, thinking that she was not worthy. Then the war broke out, his family moved to the South, while her family stayed in the North. The two of them promised to find a way to contact each other again when there was peace, but then... the letters were lost, everyone went their separate ways, and no one had any news from the other anymore."

"So what?" Thảo Nguyên asked softly, her heart beating fast because of both curiosity and emotion.

"I've been waiting for three years," Ms. Xuân said, her voice trembling slightly. "Then your grandfather came to ask to marry me. My family urged me too much. I also thought maybe Bảo Tín had forgotten me, so I agreed to marry him. Your grandfather was a good person, and I have no regrets because I had a happy marriage, with your mother, Aunt Hạnh, and you in my life. But sometimes, I still wonder: if the last letter I sent had not been lost that day, would things have been different?"

Thảo Nguyên held her hand, feeling a slight tremble in it. "Did you ever find him again?"

"Yes, once," Mrs. Xuân nodded. "About twenty years ago, I heard that he had settled in the South, got married, and had children and grandchildren. I was happy for him, but there was no reason to contact him again. There are love relationships, my dear, that are best when left alone in the memory, without having to rekindle them."

Her story made Thảo Nguyên speechless, and a feeling of emotion and curiosity that could not be expressed in words rose in her heart. She wanted to ask more about them, about Mr. Bảo Tín's hometown, but seeing that her grandmother's eyes were tinged with fatigue after sharing her heart, she decided not to ask further. She simply sat quietly beside her, squeezing her hand as a way to comfort her.

“Thank you for telling me,” she said softly.

"Yes," Mrs. Xuân smiled, her eyes softened. "It's an old story, it's easier to tell. Well, it's late, go to sleep, you have school tomorrow."

That night, after returning to her room, Thảo Nguyên texted the whole story to Việt Anh, her fingers continuously tapping on the phone screen because she was too emotional to wait until the next morning to share.

"His name is Đinh Bảo Tín," she wrote at the end of the message. "She said he moved to the South to live later. Does that sound familiar?"

A few minutes passed without any response, making Thảo Nguyên start to worry, thinking she had disturbed him at late hour. But then the phone rang, a call came from Việt Anh - something that had never happened during the contract between the two.

"Hello?" She picked up the phone, her voice a bit confused.

"Thảo Nguyên," Việt Anh's voice rang out over the phone, different from his usual calmness, with a rare tremble. "My grandfather's name is Đinh Bảo Tín."

Thảo Nguyên was dumbfounded, her hands trembled, causing the phone to almost fall out of her hand. "Are... are you telling the truth?"

"I'm not joking about this," Việt Anh replied, his voice still a bit confused. "My grandfather used to live in the North, then moved to the South to settle during the war years. He passed away when I was ten years old, but my father often told the story of how he had a deep first love when he was young, which failed due to family circumstances, and he never really forgot that person, even though he later married my grandmother."

"So..." Thảo Nguyên said, her voice trembling with emotion and extreme surprise. "So that means, your grandfather and my grandmother..."

"It could be the same person," Việt Anh finished his sentence, his voice unable to hide the shock. "The probability of the names, hometowns, times and circumstances matching to this extent is almost impossible to be just a coincidence."

The two were silent for a long time on the phone, only the sound of each other's breathing could be heard in the quiet space of the late night, each person individually processing a huge truth that had just suddenly arrived.

"So what should I do now?" Thảo Nguyên asked, her voice still shaking.

"I think," Việt Anh said slowly, as if weighing each word, "we need more evidence before telling anyone. Maybe I'll ask my dad if he still has any photos of my grandfather when he was young, to compare with his."

"Okay," Thảo Nguyên nodded, even though he couldn't see it through the phone. "But Việt Anh..."

"What's up?"

“If this is true,” she said, her voice trailing off, “it means we're not just pretending to love each other because of an off-the-cuff lie. But both of our families, going back half a century, once had a deep bond that neither of us knew about.”

Việt Anh was silent for a long time on the other end of the line, then said softly, his voice had something strange and unprecedented: "Yeah, I'm thinking about that too."

"I remember my father once told me," Việt Anh continued, his voice slow, as if he was searching through fragmented memories, "that he kept a small wooden box in a private drawer, inside were a few old, yellowed letters, written in a girl's handwriting. He never let anyone read them, just said they were souvenirs from his youth. After he passed away, my father wanted to get rid of them, but my grandmother stopped me, telling me to keep them as a way of respecting the deceased."

"My grandmother also has a wooden box just like that," Thảo Nguyên blurted out, her heart beating faster. "I still see her occasionally open it to look at it, but she never shows me what's inside."

"So there's a high possibility it's the same story," Việt Anh said, his voice sounding both surprised and a bit like a rare tremor, different from the usual calmness she had grown accustomed to over the past few weeks. "I'll ask my dad if he still has any old photos of my grandfather when he was young. Maybe there are still a few among the family photos in the countryside."

"Okay," Thảo Nguyên replied, her voice still shaking. "But don't tell your dad the real reason yet, at least until we're more certain."

"I understand," Việt Anh said. "I'll say I'm doing a family history project for class, my dad won't suspect anything."

The call ended a few minutes later, but Thảo Nguyên lay still unable to sleep, her mind reeling with a series of unanswered questions. Was this a fateful coincidence, or just an amazing coincidence? And if it was true that their grandparents once loved each other passionately but could not be together, then the fact that she and Việt Anh - their two grandchildren - were now standing side by side in a love story, even though it started with a lie, had a greater meaning than what the four clauses in the contract could contain.

The next morning, on the way to school, Thảo Nguyên was still stunned by last night's news, so much so that she almost bumped into a light pole while she was lost in thought. She met Bích Vân at the school gate and told the whole story during recess, making her best friend's eyes widen in surprise.

"Are you kidding me?" Bích Vân exclaimed, her voice low for fear that others would hear. "You two were each other's first loves? That sounds like the plot of a TV show."

"I can't believe it either," Thảo Nguyên sighed, "but every detail matches strangely. Name, hometown, time, circumstances of separation. Now we're waiting for Việt Anh to find old photos to confirm more firmly."

"If it's true," Van said, her eyes sparkling with curiosity and emotion, "then this is no longer an ordinary fake contract. What do you plan to do next?"

"I don't know," Thảo Nguyên answered honestly, looking out at the schoolyard where the morning sunlight was spreading a pale yellow layer over the phoenix trees. "But I think, no matter the outcome, this will change everything between me and Việt Anh, in a way that neither of us could have predicted."