Chapter 23 — I Shall Never Set Foot in Nam Thanh Again

Tan Tu Bach clearly understood the implication as well.

Are you leaving today?

Yes.

He grew flustered. Why didn't you tell me?

I looked at him. Why should I have told you?

He was rendered speechless. That was true. Why, indeed? He was nobody to me, and I was no longer anyone to him.

On the way to the airport, Father drove while I sat in the passenger seat. My phone vibrated incessantly. Messages were pouring in from Tan Tu Bach, from Aunt Chu, and from distant relatives I barely knew. Thanh Chi, Tu Bach knows he was wrong; do not be so heartless. You are a young woman; do not be so rigid and stubborn. Our families have had ties for so many years; making a scene like this is unsightly. I did not reply to a single one. Father glanced at me through the rearview mirror.

Do you want to change your phone number?

There is no need, I replied.

I set my phone to silent mode. Just leave it.

There are some things in life that do not necessarily need to be discarded immediately. Sometimes, it is better to leave them be, to glance at them occasionally just to remind myself of how foolish I once was. The car merged onto the highway leading to the airport. The city outside the window slowly receded into the distance. I suddenly recalled that night of my rebirth. The computer screen cast a dim, ghostly light across the room. Only two hours remained until the enrollment portal closed. Tan Tu Bach had demanded I review his application, while Ha Tri Manh sent provocative photos. Everyone believed that, just like in my previous life, I would obediently walk toward the Southern City. But I did not. I filled in the application for the Capital City. I pressed the confirmation button. At that moment, I thought rebirth was meant to settle scores with the people of my past. It was only later that I realized that was not the case at all. Rebirth was granted so that I could finally find the courage to write my own name into the story of my own life.

Upon arriving at the airport, Father helped me unload my suitcase. He carefully double-checked my admission letter and identification papers once more. Do you have your ID, phone, charger, and documents all packed?

I smiled. I have everything.

Father still seemed uneasy. Remember to text me once you arrive.

I will, I promised.

At the security checkpoint, Father suddenly called out to me. Thanh Chi.

I turned around. Father looked at me, his eyes slightly reddened. This time, do not let anyone make you suffer.

My nose stung. I will not.

If someone makes you unhappy, stay away from them.

I will.

If you want to come home, come home, but if you do not, then feel free to fly away.

I nearly burst into tears. Father, I am not a bird.

Father smiled. You were not before. But you are a bird now.

I wheeled my suitcase toward the security gate. While waiting in line, my phone vibrated again. It was Tan Tu Bach. Thanh Chi, I am at the airport terminal.

I looked up. Through the vast sea of people and the thick glass panes, I saw him far in the distance. He was leaning on crutches on the other side of the lobby, with Aunt Chu supporting his arm. His face was pale, and his brow was slick with sweat; he had likely endured great pain to rush here. In my past life, seeing him like this was my greatest fear. If he so much as furrowed his brow, my heart would ache. If he called my name, I would turn back instantly. But this time, I only gave him a fleeting glance. Then, I lowered my head and handed my boarding pass to the security officer.

Tan Tu Bach tried to call, but I silenced the ringtone. Another message popped up: Do you really not need me anymore?

I stared at the words for a long time before typing my response. That is correct.

After the message sent, I blocked his number. I blocked Aunt Chu’s number as well, along with Ha Tri Manh’s, and those of the relatives who had urged me to be "reasonable." I blocked them all.

My phone fell into an immediate, profound silence, like the surface of a lake after a storm has passed.

As the plane took off, I looked out at the clouds outside the window. They stretched out in endless, blindingly white layers. I opened the freshman portal for the Capital City University of Foreign Studies.