Chapter 13 — Debt Book at the End of the Alley

Dieu decided to read the entire stack of letters again on a quiet evening, after temporarily putting aside worries about the Kim Phat loan to spend time facing another secret that had been smoldering in her heart for the past few days. She spread each letter out on the table in order of date, trying to read them as one continuous story instead of separate pieces.

The first letter, written nearly thirty years ago, carried the tone of a young man confessing his sincere but hesitant feelings. The subsequent letters gradually became more earnest, then came a clear change - the tone became sad, as if trying to accept something that could not be changed.

"Hanh, I know your family has decided. I don't blame you, I don't blame your parents. I just hope that, even though I can't be with you the way I dreamed, I can still be the person you trust when you need it, like a friend, a brother."

Reading this, Dieu clearly felt the pain contained in each word. She turned to the next letter and saw that the date had jumped a longer period of time, perhaps to the time her mother had married her father and settled into family life.

This letter is shorter, the tone is more calm, like that of a close friend congratulating: "Congratulations on having a happy home. I am truly happy for you."

But the next letter, just a few months later, had a completely different tone — urgent, full of anxiety.

"Hanh, I heard that you're pregnant, I'm happy for you and Phong. But I have to tell the truth, there are nights when I can't sleep thinking about what if..."

The letter was interrupted there, the rest of the page was torn away, leaving only a jagged edge. Dieu frowned and looked to see if there were any other letters that continued this paragraph, but it seemed that that part had been intentionally removed, different from the other letters that were still intact.

She reached for the last letter in the stack — the one that mentioned the "baby" she had read the night she first discovered them. This time, she read it again slowly and carefully, trying to analyze each word as real legal evidence.

"...I'm glad that you have chosen a decent man to rely on. I only hope that the baby will grow up healthy and happy in the future. No matter whose last name it has, whether the truth is ever told or not, I will always consider it as a part of my flesh and blood, watch over it from afar, and silently protect it all my life if necessary."

Dieu put the letter down, her hands trembled uncontrollably. "Whether the truth is ever told or not" — this sentence was almost a direct confirmation, no longer as vague as she once thought. She read that sentence over and over again, feeling like the ground beneath her feet was shaking.

If what the letter implies is true, Uncle Tu is not just an old friend of her mother, but is actually her biological father - the person who has quietly stood on the sidelines of her life for the past twenty-eight years, watching, protecting, helping, but never daring to admit that he is her father, so that she can grow up in a complete family with her official father on paper.

Dieu sat quietly for hours, re-reading the stack of letters and then putting them down again, her mind reeling with a series of memories viewed through a completely new lens. She remembered the times when Uncle Tu volunteered to repair the car free for her family, the small gifts he still silently left, the way he was always present at the right time whenever her family was in trouble, the look in his eyes every time he looked at her that she once thought was simply the affection of a kind uncle.

Everything now has a completely different meaning.

She remembered her father's face in old photos - Mr. Phong, a gentle, quiet man who always gave her the same warm love as a real biological father. If he had known this truth from the beginning, as the letter seemed to imply, then his love for her would have been even greater than ever — a man willing to nurture and love a child not related to him by blood, just for the love of his cherished wife.

Dieu's tears fell uncontrollably, a complex mixture of emotions filled her heart - both painful because of the feeling of being deceived for so many years, and touched by the silent sacrifice of all three adults in this story, who together chose to protect her from a truth that could make her childhood much more complicated and painful.

She sat there until the clock struck midnight, finally drying her tears, folding the stack of letters with even greater care than before, as if they were now not just old pieces of paper, but evidence of a part of her own identity.

She knew she couldn't continue to keep silent about this discovery forever. Sooner or later, she will have to directly confront Uncle Tu and hear him confirm or deny this truth. But tonight, amid the emotional shock that was so new, she knew she wasn't ready for that conversation.

She carefully put away the stack of letters, turned off the light, lay down on the bed but her eyes were still open, staring at the ceiling in the dark, her mind constantly redrawing her entire life from a completely new perspective, wondering if tomorrow, when the sun came up, she would have the courage to face Uncle Tu like before, or if everything between them would forever change from tonight.

Nearly three o'clock in the morning, Dieu still couldn't sleep. She got up and reopened the family memorabilia box stored in the corner of the closet, where a few old photos and important family documents were still kept. She searched and found a wedding photo of her parents, yellowed over time but still clear. In the photo, her mother is wearing a white ao dai, smiling brightly next to her father, both exuding happiness that is not forced.

She looked closely at her father's eyes in the photo, trying to find some sign of reluctance, of a man accepting an incomplete marriage. But she finds nothing but a sincere happiness, which leaves her even more confused — if her father really knew the truth from the beginning as the letter implied, then how great must his love and acceptance for his mother, and for her, have been.

She flipped through and found another photo — a photo of her as a newborn, held in the arms of both her mother and father, surrounded by a few familiar people standing and congratulating her. She squinted her eyes and looked closely at the faces in the background, trying to see if there was Uncle Tu's silhouette in them, but she did not see him appear in this photo.

That absence made her wonder if it was a coincidence, or if he had deliberately kept his distance. During that sensitive time, I did not want my presence to cause any more doubts for the young family that had just been established.

She put the photos back and sat on the bed, feeling exhausted both physically and mentally after a long night full of emotional turmoil. She looked at the clock, it was almost four in the morning, she knew she needed to sleep for at least a few hours before she had to get up to open the shop, but her mind still kept racing.

She was an only child, with no siblings to share this burden with at night. That thought made Dieu even more lonely in the middle of the night, with no one who truly understood her family's complicated situation to help her shoulder the burden.

She texted Huong, even though she knew her friend was probably fast asleep by now, just to vent some of her pent-up emotions: "I just discovered a big story about my family. I don't know how to handle it. I'll call you tomorrow to tell you the details."

After sending the message, she put down the phone and finally fell asleep in a fitful sleep, full of fragmented dreams mixed with images of uncle Tu, father Phong, and mother, all revolving in a story that she herself, even though she was the central character, still could not fully grasp.

In that flickering dream, she saw herself as a child, standing in the middle of the restaurant yard, looking at three adults - mother, father Phong, and uncle Tu - standing in a circle around her, each smiling, but their eyes carried a deep sadness that could not be expressed in words. She wanted to ask them something, but her mouth couldn't make any sound, just like how her mother was now unable to speak, as if in her dream she was experiencing the same helplessness her mother was suffering in real life.

She woke up at six o'clock in the morning, her body was sweaty even though it wasn't hot, her heart was still beating fast because of that strange dream. She lay still for a moment, looking up at the ceiling, trying to differentiate between what she had just dreamed about and the reality that was waiting for her out there.

She knew she needed to get up, needed to open the shop, needed to continue her daily life as if nothing had happened, even though inside, a part of her had changed forever since last night. She sat up, washed her face with cold water, trying to regain the necessary alertness for a new day, a day that she knew, sooner or later, she would have to face Uncle Tu directly, with the biggest question of her life.