Chapter 2 — It's Too Late, Doctor Vu

The international kindergarten where Moc Mien studies is located on a quiet street near West Lake, with a spacious playground covered with green artificial grass and rows of classrooms painted in pastel colors. That Saturday morning, the whole school was busy preparing for "Family Day" - an annual event in which each classroom organizes active games for parents to participate with their children.

Lam Nhi stood in the corner of the yard, holding her phone, looking around at the families gathered around the game booths. There were fathers carrying their children on their shoulders to play ring toss, there were couples holding their children's hands in a three-legged race, bustling laughter echoed throughout the schoolyard. She glanced at the clock, then looked back at the school gate, feeling nervous.

Dinh Vu promised to come, even if only as "a family friend" like before — that was the only way he could appear in his daughter's life without revealing his true identity.

"Mom, where is dad?" Little Mien pulled her mother's sleeve, her big round eyes looked up, still holding a red plastic bracelet in her hand in preparation for the upcoming game. "Tom said his father is coming, but where is your father?"

"Dad is on his way." Lam Nhi bent down to stroke her child's hair, trying to keep her voice cheerful. "Dad is very busy, but he always tries to come as early as possible."

At that moment, the familiar car stopped in front of the school gate. Dinh Vu got out, wearing a simple shirt instead of his usual white blouse, trying to look normal among the crowd of parents. Baby Mien shouted and was about to run, but Lam Nhi quickly grabbed her hand and whispered close to her ear.

"Remember, you call dad Uncle Vu here, like I told you."

Little Mien's face slightly drooped, but she still nodded obediently, ran in front of Dinh Vu, looked up and called softly: "Uncle Vu."

Dinh Vu paused for a second, the smile on his lips was somewhat forced, but he still bent down to pick up his child, his voice warm: "Uncle is here, do you want to play any games with me today?"

Throughout that morning, the three of them participated in all sorts of games with other families — ring toss, relay races, and team formation. Baby Mien smiled brightly every time "Uncle Vu" carried him on his shoulders and ran around the yard, but sometimes Lam Nhi still caught her eyes watching other children chirping and calling "daddy, dad" naturally, without hiding.

At lunch break, when families spread out mats to eat together on the grass, the homeroom teacher suddenly called the children up to the small stage to share about their families, an activity in the festival's program. Each child took a turn holding the microphone, innocently saying "This is my dad, my dad is an engineer" or "This is my dad, my dad is a police officer", the whole schoolyard clapped loudly after each innocent introduction.

When it was Mien's turn, the teacher led her to the stage and gave her the microphone. The girl stood there, looking down at the crowd, finding her mother and "uncle Vu" sitting in the row below. It was silent for a long moment, then faltered.

"This is your mother... and this is Uncle Vu, your mother's friend."

That naive statement made a few parents around laugh softly. No one paid any special attention, but Lam Nhi felt like someone had just strangled her heart. She glanced at Dinh Vu, saw his jaw tightened, his eyes fixed on his daughter on stage, unable to hide the fleeting pain.

That afternoon, after taking Dinh Vu home by a roundabout route to avoid anyone noticing the two of them appearing together, the three of them sat around the dinner table as usual. But the atmosphere is no longer as happy as other meals. Little Mien ate rice more quietly than usual, occasionally glancing at her father, then bending down to the rice bowl.

"Can't you eat much?" Lam Nhi asked, gently stroking her child's back.

Baby Mien shook her head, then suddenly looked up and asked, her voice immature but serious: "Mom, why can't I call Uncle Vu dad at school? Tom's friend said I lied, I don't have a dad."

That question was like a knife cutting into the hearts of both adults in the room. Lam Nhi stiffened, not knowing how to answer so that a four-year-old child could understand the complexity of the adult world. Dinh Vu put down his chopsticks, was silent for a long time, then stood up and walked over to his child, kneeling down to the child's eye level.

"I have a dad. He's always here, it's just... he can't tell everyone yet." He tried to explain in the simplest language possible, but he also felt the helplessness in his words.

"Why can't you say it yet?" Baby Mien continued to ask, her eyes filled with tears. "Tom said that if he really has a father, he should be able to say it."

Dinh Vu could not answer. He held his child in his arms and comforted him, but in his heart, that innocent question kept echoing, like an inescapable question.

After putting baby Mien to sleep, Lam Nhi and Dinh Vu sat in the living room, a tense atmosphere covering the always warm house.

"Mr. Vu, this cannot last forever." Lam Nhi spoke first, her voice trembling slightly but firmly. "She's already starting to realize. She'll get older, she'll have to face more situations like today. I don't want my child to grow up in a lie."

"I know." Dinh Vu rubbed his hands together, his eyes looked down at the floor, his tiredness evident. "But I also know that next week the Meridian Healthcare Fund's appraisal team will come to survey the hospital. This is the most important moment in the entire investment negotiation process over the past two years. Chairman Ton Ba Thanh has said very clearly, your image is an important part of the dossier to introduce the hospital to investors. If you announce your marriage right now, no one knows what will happen to the deal, with hundreds of employees looking forward to the development of the hospital."

"So when is the right time?" Lam Nhi looked up and looked straight into his eyes, the question contained five years of repression. "Five years ago you said to wait until you stabilized your position. Three years ago you said to wait until the media project ended. Last year you said to wait until this investment negotiation started. Now you say to wait until it ends. Mr. Vu, there will always be a reason, forever there will always be a reason to wait."

Dinh Vu remained silent, unable to refute what she had just said, because it was all the truth he could not deny. He walked over and sat next to her, holding her hand with both of his.

"I promise, as long as this appraisal is over and the investment contract is signed, I will personally publicize everything in front of the entire hospital and the media if necessary. I don't want my daughter to grow up with a lie, and I also don't want you to continue living in the dark like this. Just a little more time, Nhi."

Lam Nhi looked into his eyes, looking for sincerity in it, and she found it - Dinh Vu has never been the one to lie to her about his feelings, it's just that he is always torn between responsibility for his small family and pressure from his career, from the position he has worked hard to build for many years.

"Okay." She nodded slightly, although there was still a vague insecurity in her heart. "But you have to promise, this is the last time I will accept to wait. For the child, and for you too."

"I promise." Dinh Vu squeezed her hand, bent down and kissed her gently on the forehead. "This time will definitely be different."

That night, after Dinh Vu fell asleep due to fatigue after a long day, Lam Nhi still lay awake, looking up at the ceiling, listening to her daughter's steady breathing in the crib next to the bed. She thought about her child's innocent question that afternoon, about her child's hurt eyes when her friends said "you lied, you don't have a father", and she wondered if she was doing the right thing by continuing to wait again, or if this was just a never-ending loop that she voluntarily entered five years ago, when love was still too passionate to see the risks ahead.

She slightly tilted her head to look at the calendar hanging on the wall next to the dressing table, where the date the appraisal team would come to survey had been circled in red ink by Dinh Vu a few days ago. She gently touched the paper frame with her finger, as if she could detect what was waiting behind that meaningless number, then withdrew her hand, turned off the bedside lamp, and pulled the blanket up to her chin. In the darkness, she could clearly hear the wall clock tapping, counting down to the week they both believed would bring freedom—neither of them knew what it would bring first.