Chapter 12 — Contract of the Heart

That weekend, Aunt Hạnh stopped by the house as usual, bringing some fruit from her garden. Thảo Nguyên took advantage of Mrs. Xuân's time at the market to buy things and pulled her to a corner of the small yard to ask questions.

"Auntie, on the anniversary of my grandfather's death, I think you seem to know something about the person in your old photo," she said frankly, without beating around the bush. "Can you tell me?"

Aunt Hạnh looked at her for a moment, her eyes searching as if she was considering whether to reveal it or not. "Why are you suddenly curious about this?"

Thảo Nguyên hesitated for a second, then decided not to hide it completely. "I discovered some coincidental details, related to the family of... someone I know. I want to understand her story better before drawing any conclusions."

"Well," Aunt Hạnh sighed, sitting on the stone chair under the bougainvillea trellis, her voice low and full of nostalgia. "When I was little, I once overheard a conversation between my mother and your grandfather, when they thought I was asleep. Mom cried, telling him that she was always grateful to him for accepting her even though she knew she still had an old lover in her heart. My grandfather just hugged her, saying that he didn't need her to completely forget the past, just having her by his side was enough."

Hearing this, Thảo Nguyên felt a sting in her nose, imagining her grandparents' marriage - not perfect like love at first sight in a novel, but filled with tolerance and mutual respect in its own way.

"Mom never told me that person's name," Aunt Hạnh continued, "but I guess it was the person in the black-and-white photo. Many years later, one time, I happened to see my mother crying alone next to a wooden box. When I asked her, she just said she remembered the past and didn't want to say more. From then on, I didn't dare to ask again, for fear of provoking my mother's pain."

"So I think, if someone knows that person's identity now, should I let you know?" Thảo Nguyên asked, her voice careful.

Aunt Hạnh was silent for a long time, thinking carefully before answering. "It depends on what the information brings to you. If it simply brings up unfinished pain and nothing changes, perhaps it's better to leave it alone. But if it brings peace, or some meaningful connection to you at this age, then it might be worth considering."

Aunt Hạnh's answer made Thảo Nguyên even more confused. She thanked her aunt, promised to think carefully, then returned home with a heavy heart of unanswered questions.

That evening, Mrs. Xuân called Thảo Nguyên to the living room, holding a small notebook in her hand to write down the guest list for the birthday party, her face beaming with excitement.

“Look at this,” she said, pointing to a new line of text added to the list. "I plan to invite Việt Anh's entire family, not only his parents, but also... his grandmother if she's still healthy and able to walk. I want to fully meet, consider it an official introduction before you two consider anything further."

"Grandma," Thảo Nguyên quickly stopped, feeling like everything was going out of control faster than she thought. "We're still young, we've only known each other for a long time. Don't rush into thinking about something so far away, okay?"

"I know, I know," Mrs. Xuân smiled, patting her granddaughter's head like when she was a child. "I just want to prepare in advance, I don't mean to force anything. But honey, I look at Việt Anh, the more I look at it, the more I appreciate it, seeing something very... familiar, strangely close, even though we just met not long ago. I can't explain it, it's just an old person's hunch."

Her words made Thảo Nguyên speechless for a moment. Perhaps, somewhere in her subconscious, she felt a strange connection between Việt Anh and the man in the old photo, even though she herself could not clearly explain what that feeling was.

Mrs. Xuân flipped a few more pages in the notebook and showed Thảo Nguyên the list of dishes planned for the party, her voice still unable to hide her excitement. "She plans to make twelve dishes, both sweet and savory, and invite the entire cooking team from the ward's women's association to come and help. She also plans to order a separate three-tier cake, with her entire family's name engraved on top, to take commemorative photos for all her children and grandchildren."

"You're so prepared," Thảo Nguyên said, feeling both touched and under increased pressure when she realized how big the party was, and along with that, how serious it would be if the secret between the two families were improperly exposed in a space full of such relatives.

"You'll only be seventy once in your entire life," Ms. Xuân smiled, her eyes shining with the simple joy of someone who has gone through many ups and downs in life. "I want that party to be perfect, with all my children and grandchildren, including your talented boyfriend, so that I can rest assured that I have fulfilled my responsibilities to the family before..."

"You said that again," Thảo Nguyên interrupted, her voice a bit choked.

"Well, I won't say it anymore," Mrs. Xuân patted her grandson's head and laughed it off, but her eyes were still a little distant. "Okay, go to bed early, you still have school tomorrow. About inviting Việt Anh's family, just ask slowly, there's no need to rush."

"I will talk to Việt Anh about inviting his family," Thảo Nguyên replied, trying to keep her voice normal even though she was confused inside. "But maybe we should take it slow, don't be too hasty. His family still has to arrange work, and I think we should let everything happen naturally, not forcing anyone."

"Yes, you're right," Mrs. Xuân nodded, closed the guest list book, and placed it carefully on the shelf like a treasure. "She's just impatient, and doesn't mean to force anyone. As long as when that day comes, our whole family is gathered together, then she's satisfied."

She stood up, gently rubbed her granddaughter's shoulder, then went to the kitchen to make a new pot of tea, her gait still agile even though she was over seventy. Thảo Nguyên sat alone in the living room, watching her figure disappear behind the kitchen door, her heart both warm and heavy, not knowing whether her radiant joy at that moment could be kept intact until the day the truth, if any, was forced to be told.

"Yes, I hear you," Mrs. Xuân nodded, although her eyes still couldn't hide her excitement. "I just don't have much time to wait anymore, honey. I want to see you happy with my own eyes before..."

"Don't say that again," Thảo Nguyên interrupted, her voice choked, hugging her tightly, feeling the fragility in that thin figure, and in that moment, all questions about family secrets, about the boundary between fake and real in the relationship with Việt Anh, suddenly became much smaller than the constant fear of one day not being able to hug her like this anymore.

That night, after she fell asleep, Thảo Nguyên sat alone in the room, texting Việt Anh to recount the conversation with Aunt Hạnh and what Mrs. Xuân had just said.

"My grandmother said she felt 'strangely familiar' when she looked at you," she texted. "I think maybe subconsciously, she felt something, even though she couldn't explain it clearly."

Việt Anh answered after a long while: "Perhaps it is true that there are invisible bonds that reason cannot fully explain. I also feel the same, every time I come to your house, there is a strange feeling of closeness that I cannot find a reasonable way to express with ordinary logic."

Thảo Nguyên read that text message, smiling alone in the dark, feeling more clearly than ever that the line between role and truth in their story was fading day by day, and she was no longer sure whether she still wanted to keep that line or not.

She typed another message, her finger hesitated on the screen for a long time before pressing send: "Việt Anh, thank you for being patient with all these troubles. From my initial lie, to now the family secret, you must be very tired."

"Not tired," he answered almost immediately, as if the phone was already in his hand. "To be honest, from the day I signed the contract until now, my life has been much more interesting than before, even though there were more unexpected variables than I wanted. But I don't regret agreeing."

Thảo Nguyên looked at that line for a long time, a smile slowly appearing on her lips. She put the phone down on the table, pulled the blanket over her body, but sleep still did not come immediately, her mind kept wandering between the image of her grandmother with distant eyes next to an old wooden box, and the simple but sincere answer that Việt Anh had just sent, like a small confirmation that perhaps, somewhere in the midst of all these troubles, something truly good was silently growing.