Chapter 9 — Contract of the Heart

Two weeks later, Ms. Xuân announced the news that made Thảo Nguyên almost drop the chopsticks she was holding in her hand during dinner.

"This Sunday our family celebrates your grandfather's death anniversary," she said, her voice calm as if she were mentioning a routine matter. "Uncles, aunts, uncles, cousins are all here. I've invited Việt Anh to attend, please tell him to prepare."

"Are you invited?" Thảo Nguyên asked again, her voice slightly higher than usual because of surprise. "Didn't you ask me first?"

"Eh, I think you two are in love, it's normal for him to attend your grandfather's death anniversary," Mrs. Xuân replied, a bit surprised by her granddaughter's reaction. "What, is there a problem?"

"No, it's nothing," Thảo Nguyên hastily reassured, even though in her heart she had begun to calculate the severity of this new situation. A small family meal is one thing, but a death anniversary with lots of relatives, with countless probing questions from experienced elders, is a completely different challenge.

That night, she called Việt Anh as soon as she got back to her room.

"Your grandfather's anniversary?" Việt Anh asked again over the phone, his voice a bit surprised but not panicked as she feared. "Okay, it's on the calendar. Do you need to prepare anything special?"

"You're so calm?" Thảo Nguyên couldn't help but ask. "This is the death anniversary, there are many relatives, not just my grandmother anymore."

"I understand the severity," Việt Anh replied, his voice still calm. "But panicking won't help anything. You send me a list of people who will be present, their relationship to you, and topics to avoid. I'll be prepared as always."

Thảo Nguyên laughed at his systematic approach to the problem, the feeling of anxiety in her heart eased somewhat. She spent the entire evening compiling a detailed list: Mr. Tuan, her mother's younger brother, was often joking and liked to ask difficult questions; Aunt Hạnh, her mother's older sister, was quite picky and always had high standards for everything. Her cousins were about the same age as her, curious, and liked taking photos to post on social networks.

Sunday came, Việt Anh appeared on time as usual, this time wearing a light striped shirt, carrying a carefully wrapped fruit basket. Thảo Nguyên went to greet him outside the gate and couldn't help but notice that he seemed a little more nervous than usual, although he still tried to maintain his familiar calm appearance.

"Are you okay?" She asked softly.

"Okay," he nodded, but his hand holding the fruit basket was tighter than necessary. "It's just that the number of variables in this situation is greater than usual."

"Variable?" She asked again, unable to help but laugh at his characteristic way of expressing himself.

"Twelve people, each with a different personality and interests," he explained seriously. "The probability of a question I haven't prepared in advance is much higher than when meeting Mr. Xuân for the first time."

"You'll be fine," Thảo Nguyên reassured, unconsciously reaching out to hold his hand, a completely natural gesture that she only realized after she had done it, when she felt the warmth passing through her palm and saw Việt Anh slightly startled and looked down. "Consider this also part of your practice for your scholarship interview, staying calm under pressure from many sides."

"The comparison is quite interesting," he said, the corners of his lips slightly raised, but he did not withdraw his hand, the two just held hands and walked into the yard, where the laughter of relatives echoed from inside the house.

The death anniversary was more exciting than Thảo Nguyên expected. Mr. Tuan, just as warned, asked Việt Anh a series of difficult questions about his future plans, family background, and even asked directly "when do you plan to marry Thảo Nguyên", causing both of them to freeze for a moment before Việt Anh cleverly turned to the topic of scholarships to study abroad, saying that they were both still focusing on their immediate studies.

Aunt Hạnh was more subtle, observing how Việt Anh behaved throughout the meal, from the way he picks up food to offer to the elders first, to the way he patiently answers all questions without showing signs of discomfort. At the end of the meal, her aunt pulled Thảo Nguyên aside.

"This boy is fine," commented Aunt Hạnh, with a rare note of approval in her voice. "Polite, mature, not like kids these days who only know how to bury their faces in their phones. Keep it well."

"Yes, thank you," Thảo Nguyên replied, feeling both relieved to have overcome another challenge and a little guilty thinking that this sincere compliment was being given to a completely fake relationship.

After the meal, Thảo Nguyên's cousins, who were about the same age, pulled them both to the corner of the yard with a bougainvillea trellis to take pictures, not forgetting to tease them in all kinds of ways.

"Stand a little closer together, if you leave it that far away, it will look fake," a cousin named Bao Ngoc directed, holding up her phone to look at the angle. "Việt Anh, naturally put your arm around Nguyen's shoulder, don't be stiff like you're standing at attention and saluting the flag."

Việt Anh cleared his throat slightly, his arm hesitantly before placing it lightly on Thảo Nguyên's shoulder. The movement was somewhat stiff, just like Bao Ngoc's comment, making all the siblings burst into laughter.

"Oh my god, you two love each other so much that you're so shy," another cousin chimed in, giggling. "It looks like two colleagues taking a company yearbook photo."

Thảo Nguyên smiled wryly, proactively tilted her head to lean lightly on Việt Anh's shoulder to pose more naturally for the camera, feeling his body stiffen slightly for a second before gradually relaxing. After a few photos, the crowd finally forgave the two of them. Everyone nodded in satisfaction with the result. No one had any doubts that the initial awkwardness was just due to Việt Anh's lack of familiarity with crowds, and nothing else.

In the middle of the meeting, when everyone gathered in the living room to review old photos on the death anniversary every year, one of Thảo Nguyên's cousins accidentally pulled out a family photo album, including old photos of Mrs. Xuân in her youth.

"Hey, grandma, who is this?" The cousin asked, pointing to the same black-and-white photo that Thảo Nguyên and Việt Anh had seen the day before — a girl wearing a white ao dai standing next to a tall, thin boy in front of the old school gate.

The atmosphere in the living room suddenly calmed down a bit as all eyes turned to Mrs. Xuân, waiting for an answer. Ms. Xuân was silent for a moment, her finger gently touching the photo, her eyes flashed something distant, almost identical to the expression Thảo Nguyên had seen last time.

"Just my old classmate," she replied, trying to keep her voice calm, but Thảo Nguyên - who was sitting nearby observing closely - still noticed a slight tremble in her voice. "It's a long time ago, I don't remember clearly anymore."

Aunt Hạnh, who seemed to have vaguely heard this story before, glanced at Mrs. Xuân with a questioning look, but did not say anything more, just quietly switched to another album page, as an implicit respect for her mother.

Thảo Nguyên glanced at Việt Anh and saw that he was also attentively observing Mrs. Xuân's reaction with a thoughtful expression. After the death anniversary, when she saw him leave, she couldn't help but ask.

"You also found my grandmother's reaction strange, right? This time it was even clearer than last time."

"Yes," Việt Anh nodded, his voice serious. "And the way your aunt looked at me at that time, it seemed like she already knew a little about this story, but it was just not convenient to say it in front of everyone."

"I think I'll ask her directly later," Thảo Nguyên said, determination clear in her voice. "There's something wrong with this 'old classmate' story, I can feel it."

"Be careful," Việt Anh advised before leaving. "There are past stories that people keep hidden for good reasons. If you're not willing to share, don't force it."

Thảo Nguyên nodded, but in her heart, the curiosity about the man in that old photo had become a question that could not be dismissed, especially when she realized that, even without any specific evidence, a vague premonition was telling her that the answer to this mystery might be more closely related than she thought to the very boy who had just held her hand through her gate this afternoon.

That night, before going to sleep, she searched her phone and found the photos Bao Ngoc had just sent through the family chat group. In one photo, she and Việt Anh stood under a bougainvillea trellis, the afternoon sunlight shining down, creating light spots on the shoulders of both of them. Her smile looked surprisingly natural, not as forced as she thought when taking the photo. She looked at the photo for a long time, her finger lightly gliding across the screen, wondering when the line between performing for others and feeling truly comfortable with someone became so thin.