Chapter 6 — Group Chat Without You

"To Niem, can you stop being like that? Even the slightest thing makes me want to run away from home—"

“Tran Du.” I turned my head to look at him. "Two years and three months, more than seven hundred messages, eight people. This is not a trivial matter."

He opened his mouth, speechless. I pulled my suitcase out the door. When I changed my shoes, he chased after me and grabbed my hand to pull the suitcase.

“Can you calm down a bit? Where are you going in the middle of the night?”

“I rented a house.”

He was completely stunned.

“…When did it happen?”

“Last week.”

He let go and took a half step back, as if he was hit by something. But in that expression, I did not see panic, nor did I see any holding back. What I saw was a lifting of a burden. It only takes a few tenths of a second. But I see it very clearly.

“To Niem, don't go yet, let's talk properly.”

I open the door.

“There's nothing to say.”

“The happy life I want, inherently doesn't include you.”

The door closed behind me. 05 The first week of moving into a new house, no one contacted me. It's not like there wasn't anyone — it was eight people in that group, no one at all. Tran Du did not call or text. Chu Ham didn't bother to ask what was wrong with me. To Trach doesn't care whether her sister is alive or dead. Everything was so quiet it was as if I never existed. On the eighth day, Tran Du's message finally arrived. *”To Niem, your membership package or something has arrived.”* *”Do you want it to be sent to a new address or should I throw it away for you?”* That was the reason for him to open his mouth. Not “Are you okay”, not “Let's talk”. It's a parcel. I texted back: *"Throw it away."* He: *"Ok."* Then there was silence again. Three more days passed, and Chu Ham called. I hesitated a bit, then picked up the phone.

"Nien Niem, what's wrong with you these days? I haven't seen you in a few days."

“I moved house.”

“Moving… moving house?” There was a trace of panic in his voice, "Are you arguing with Tran Du?"

“We broke up.”

The other end of the line was silent for a full five seconds.

“…Why?”

“You know why.”

There was another moment of silence. Then he said: "Nim Niem, are you talking about that group?"

“You heard me explain—”

“No need.”

“It's not what you think, that group is really just—”

“Chu Ham, I ask you a question.”

“…You say it.”

“You told me you had to work overtime that day, and then you went to eat barbecue.”

“What do you call it when you see that?”

It did not respond. I said: "I don't hate you, but I also don't want to be friends anymore." After hanging up the phone, my hands were shaking. Not out of fear, but because for the first time in so long I dared to say those words out loud. That night, To Trach called and asked a question as soon as he opened his mouth.

“Sister, did you break up with Mr. Tran Du?”

“Yes.”

“Why? Does he have anything wrong with you?”

“To Trach, you've been hiding in that group for two years now, how do you feel?”

It paused for a moment, his tone became a bit guilty, but quickly became firm again.

“That group didn't say anything bad about you, it's just that sometimes people want to gather and don't want to invite you.”

“That's normal, right? I can't just because of this little thing—”

“Very normal?”

“I think a lot It's too much, sister, you're too sensitive, everyone tells you so."

“Everyone tells me that.”

I repeat this saying, “Do people talk in groups?” It doesn't speak anymore.

“To Trach, in the winter when I was fifteen years old, I had a high fever. I asked for three days off to take you to the doctor, and half a month's bonus was deducted. Do you remember?”

“That is an old story—”

“When I was seventeen years old, I asked to buy a pair of limited edition basketball shoes, and my sister had to eat instant noodles for a month to buy them for me. Do you remember?”