Chapter 7 — Directions to Cloud Valley

Night had completely fallen when Thao Vy and Dang Khoi were still sitting on the cliff, the moonlight began to rise, gently illuminating the peaceful valley scene below. After the tears and painful confessions, they both felt a strange sense of relief, as if a burden had been laid down after five years of carrying it.

"So now, how is your father's condition?" Thao Vy asked, her voice was calmer, although her eyes were still wet.

"Dad's illness is in the middle stages," Dang Khoi replied, his voice sad. "He still recognizes everyone in the family, but his mobility has decreased significantly, and sometimes there are short periods of confusion. His mother has taken care of him all these years, even though it's been very difficult."

"And you?" Thao Vy continued asking, the question she knew was the most important. "Have you...have you had a genetic test?"

Dang Khoi shook his head, his eyes looking distantly into the darkness. "No. I've lived for the past five years in fear, avoiding knowing for sure about my own future. Perhaps that's another form of cowardice."

"Why did you choose neuroscience?" Thao Vy asked, recalling that he had previously planned to pursue a career in surgery.

"At first, he thought it was a way to better understand the disease that was destroying his father," Dang Khoi explained. "But gradually, it became a way for him to redeem himself — to help other patients facing difficult neurological diseases, as a way to make up for his own cowardice in the past."

Thao Vy remained silent, trying to digest all the information she had just heard. The old pain was still there, but now it had a clearer shape, a context that helped her understand, if not completely forgive, the reasons behind his heartbreaking decision five years ago.

"I need time," she said finally, her voice sincere. "To think about all of this. This is not something I can handle right away."

"I understand," Dang Khoi replied, although in his heart he could not help but feel a little disappointed. "I don't expect you to forgive me right away. I just hope you know the truth, so you can decide what's best for yourself, not let me decide for you anymore."

***

The next morning, as the medical examination continued at the community cultural house, Thao Vy took the time to visit a few familiar families in the village, partly to keep the necessary distance from Dang Khoi while she sorted out the complicated emotions in her heart.

"You seem to be in a bad mood," Chua village chief commented when he saw her sitting quietly on the doorstep of his house, looking distantly at the valley.

"I just learned an important truth, Uncle Chua," Thao Vy replied, her voice thoughtful. "About why the person I once loved left me five years ago."

Chua village chief sat down next to her, his eyes full of experience and understanding. "You know, in our H'Mong culture, there is an old saying: 'High mountains cannot stop people's footsteps, only people's hearts can stop people's hearts.' The truth, no matter how painful, is better than doubts that will never be answered."

"I understand that, uncle," Thao Vy said. "But I still need time to accept that everything I've been through these past five years, all that pain, came from a decision he made out of fear, not because he didn't love me."

"Love sometimes makes people make the worst decisions," Chua village chief said, his voice gentle. "The important thing is whether people have the courage to recognize their mistakes and correct them. Please observe him in the coming days and see if his actions match his words."

The village chief's advice made Thao Vy feel somewhat relieved, as if she had just received valuable guidance to navigate the next steps in the complex journey of her heart.

***

In the afternoon, when Thao Vy returned to the medical station area to check the situation, she accidentally witnessed Dang Khoi patiently explaining to a local boy how to take care of a small wound on his hand. His voice was gentle and considerate, without any impatience even though he had to repeat it many times for the boy to understand through the language barrier.

She watched from afar, observing how he treated each patient — his dedication, patience, and sincere love for his work. This is the man she fell in love with five years ago, and perhaps, is still that man, even though he has gone through many changes and many personal hurts.

"What are you looking at?" Sinh asked, appearing next to her with a familiar mischievous smile.

"I'm trying to better understand who he is now," Thao Vy replied, not taking her eyes off the sight of Dang Khoi carefully bandaging the boy. "Not the person he was five years ago, but the person he has become after all that has happened."

"And what do you think?" Asking, curious.

Thao Vy was silent for a moment, observing another moment before answering. "I see someone who has learned how to turn her pain into motivation to help others. It's not an easy thing, Sinh."

She turned away, continuing her work, but inside, a small seed of understanding and perhaps, though she was not yet ready to fully admit it, a faint glimmer of hope for the possibility of healing, had begun to sprout.

***

That evening, the whole group and the villagers held a warm communal meal at the community cultural house, a way for people to express their gratitude to the volunteer group. Traditional H'Mong dishes are presented simply but heartily — bamboo-tube rice, grilled meat, stir-fried wild vegetables, and homemade corn wine.

"Everyone, please enjoy," Chua village chief said, raising a cup of corn wine to invite the whole group of guests. "Thank you for coming so far to bring medical care to our village."

The party atmosphere became bustling with laughter and the sounds of traditional H'Mong musical instruments echoed from a corner of the yard, where a few young people in the village were performing familiar Khen dances for guests from far away to enjoy.

Dang Khoi sat with his colleagues, but his eyes often turned to Thao Vy, who was sitting with Sinh and a few villagers, her face much brighter than the pensive look of the afternoon.

"You seem happier," Dr. Phong commented, sitting down next to Dang Khoi with a small cup of corn wine. "How was our conversation yesterday?"

"I told her the whole truth," Dang Khoi replied, his voice still a little nervous as he remembered. "She needs time to think, but at least, you don't have to carry that secret alone anymore."

"That's an important step forward," Dr. Phong nodded in agreement. "Now, what you need to do is be patient, let your actions prove your words, instead of rushing to ask forgiveness immediately."

Dang Khoi nodded, understanding his teacher's advice. He looked towards Thao Vy again, seeing her laughing happily at some joke of Sinh's, and in that moment, he felt a simple happiness just from seeing her happy, even if not because of him.

The party lasted until late, with dancing, singing, and stories shared between villagers and guests from far away. When everyone gradually dispersed to rest, Thao Vy happened to pass by where Dang Khoi was sitting alone, looking at the stars in the night sky.

"Thank you," she said suddenly, causing him to look up at her in surprise.

"For what?" he asked.

"For being honest with me, even if it's late," she replied, her voice much softer than it had been in days past. "I still need time, but at least now I don't have to live in doubt anymore."

Dang Khoi smiled, a sincere smile full of hope. "That's the least you deserve, Thao Vy. I will wait, no matter how much time you need."

She nodded slightly, then continued walking towards the tent, leaving Dang Khoi sitting there, filled with a feeling of peace that he had never felt in the past five long years - the feeling of someone who had finally let go of the burden of secrets, and was standing on the threshold of a second chance that he did not dare to dream of.

He sat for a while longer under the starry sky, letting his mind wander through the memories of five years ago—the simple dates, the plans for the future they had drawn together, and the pain of the moment he decided to leave it all. Now, sitting in the middle of the Northwest mountains and forests, hundreds of kilometers away from the city, he feels like he is facing a new beginning, even though the road ahead is still uncertain.

From afar, the sound of an old man in the village still echoed in the night, an ancient melody carrying both sadness and hope, as if reflecting exactly what was happening in his heart right now.