Chapter 17 — Contract of the Heart

In the days that followed, even though the two spoke frankly and made up, a thin, invisible distance still crept between Thảo Nguyên and Việt Anh. It wasn't an obvious coldness, but a new caution in the way the two treated each other - Việt Anh began to limit mentioning Diệu Anh in stories, and Thảo Nguyên tried to act too comfortable every time her friend's name was mentioned, to the point that the effort itself became another form of awkwardness.

On Friday afternoon, during a group study session to prepare for the upcoming semester exam, Bích Vân immediately recognized this subtle change while observing Thảo Nguyên all afternoon.

"Is there something going on between you and Việt Anh?" Van asked directly when the two stayed in the library to clean up after the group study session. "I think you two seem more awkward than usual."

Thảo Nguyên told the whole story about the photo, the frank conversation that followed, and the feeling of insecurity that still lingered in her heart even though she tried to get rid of it.

"It sounds like you two have talked clearly," Bích Vân commented. "Why does it still feel awkward?"

"I don't know," Thảo Nguyên sighed, "maybe because this is the first time I'm really afraid of losing something important this way. Before now, all my relationships have been simple, with nothing to lose. But with Việt Anh, this feeling is completely different, so intense that it sometimes makes me panic."

"Maybe you should tell him that directly," Van advised. "It's not about Diệu Anh anymore, but about your own fear."

"What do you think I should say?" Thảo Nguyên asked, twirling the pen in her hand, her eyes looking down at the pile of untidy books.

"It's simple," Van replied, "tell him that you're afraid of losing what you have, not because you don't trust him, but because you value it too much. Men, even logical ones like Việt Anh, sometimes need to hear that clearly to fully understand."

"You talk as if you have a lot of experience," Thảo Nguyên teased, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

"Experience from watching dozens of Korean romantic movies," Van laughed, lightly punching her friend on the shoulder. "But honestly, I think you and Việt Anh will be fine. You two care about each other enough to get through a small thing like this together."

Thảo Nguyên nodded, remembering her friend's advice, but the opportunity to do so came in a completely unexpected way.

That night, when she was on her way to Việt Anh's house to return some reference books he lent her, she accidentally encountered a scene that made her stop right in front of his house. Through the slightly opened window, she saw Việt Anh standing across from a middle-aged man — definitely his father — in a seemingly tense debate.

"I don't understand why dad objected to me knowing Thảo Nguyên," Việt Anh's voice echoed, somewhat harshly rarely seen. "I think dad will support, because Uncle Xuân is a good person and their family is also decent."

"I don't object to her," Việt Anh's father replied, his voice low and tired. "I'm just worried that you're too young to be serious with someone. Look at your parents, they loved each other dearly since college, got married, gave birth to a child, and then in the end they still couldn't keep each other. I don't want you to go through that pain."

"So you think I should avoid love for the rest of my life just because I'm afraid it might break down?" Việt Anh objected, his voice trembling with emotions that were rarely shown. "I've learned how to fix everything that's broken since I was little, from machines to what's in my heart. I don't want to live my whole life in fear like dad."

"I lost your mother because I believed too much that love was enough," Việt Anh's father continued, his voice choked with emotions that were rarely shown in front of his son. "I don't want you to repeat that mistake, pouring all your heart into one person, then one day having to face the breakup without mentally preparing yourself."

"But I can't live for you," Việt Anh replied, his voice still steadfast despite clearly having to suppress his emotions a lot. "I understand your pain, but I don't want to let that fear dictate how I live the rest of my life."

The conversation continued to become more tense, Thảo Nguyên stood numb outside the gate, not daring to knock on the door, nor willing to leave, feeling like she was accidentally witnessing the deepest wound in the heart of the person she loved.

In the end, she decided to leave quietly, not wanting to make the situation more awkward. But as soon as she turned and walked a few steps, the door opened and Việt Anh walked out, his face still red from the argument, and saw her standing there.

"Thảo Nguyên?" He called, his voice a bit surprised and confused. "What...what did you hear?"

"Sorry," she said softly, not wanting to hide it. "I was going to bring the book back to you, but I heard you and dad talking, so I didn't dare come in."

Việt Anh was silent for a moment, then raised his hand to signal her to follow him to the small stone bench in the front yard, far enough away from the house window to not be heard. He sat down, holding his head in his hands, a tired look evident on his always calm face.

"My dad is worried about my grandparents' divorce," he said, his voice low. "Since my mother left, my father became very afraid of all serious relationships, including his own son's. He was afraid that I would repeat that mistake."

"What do you think about that?" Thảo Nguyên asked softly, sitting down next to him.

"I don't know," Việt Anh answered honestly, his voice trembling a little. "There are times when I'm afraid. Afraid that no matter how hard I try, everything beautiful can fall apart, just like how my family fell apart even though my parents used to love each other very much. Afraid that the love between us, no matter how sincere it started, will eventually come to a similar end."

His words made Thảo Nguyên's chest tighten. She held his hand, trying to convey the stability she felt in her heart, even though she was also carrying another fear — fear of losing her grandmother, fear that the most fragile things in life could disappear at any moment.

"I'm scared too," she admitted. "I'm afraid of losing her, afraid that good things won't last forever. But I think, if we let that fear control us, we will never dare to be honest with anyone, including ourselves."

"You make it sound so simple," Việt Anh said, his voice a rare bit of bitterness. "But you didn't witness my dad sitting alone in the dark for hours after my mom moved out, not saying a word, just staring at an old wedding photo. I swore to myself back then that I would never let myself fall into such a weak situation."

"So what are you going to do? Close your heart forever?" Thảo Nguyên asked, her voice also began to tremble with emotion. "Việt Anh, people are not machines. You cannot program to avoid all emotional risks, the same way you optimize an algorithm."

Her words made Việt Anh silent, his face flashed with a painful expression that she rarely saw.

Việt Anh looked at her, his eyes clearly revealing an inner struggle he had never seen before. "I need time to think," he said, his voice low. "It's not about you, it's about my own fear. I don't want to bring that fear between us, hurting you with wounds that weren't yours to cause."

"How long?" Thảo Nguyên asked, trying to keep her voice calm even though her heart was clenching with worry.

"I don't know," Việt Anh answered honestly. "Maybe a few days, maybe longer. I just need some quiet time to organize my thoughts, so I don't make decisions based on temporary impulsive emotions."

Those words, even though they came from sincerity, still made Thảo Nguyên feel a new distance was forming, vague but clear, like a dark cloud starting to cover the clear blue sky that the two had just built together just a few days before.

"Okay," she said softly, even though she didn't want to let go of his hand right now. "I'll wait, but don't make me wait too long, Việt Anh. The fear will only grow if you leave it alone in the dark."

He nodded, didn't say anything else, just squeezed her hand gently before letting go. Thảo Nguyên stood up, gave him the stack of books she still held in her hand, then turned and walked away into the fading sunset, feeling a new anxiety heavy in her chest, different from the sweet warmth she had felt just a few days ago, when the two of them were sitting together under the almond tree in the park, believing that all the troubles ahead could be overcome together.