Chapter 3 — Justice Delayed

He had said, "Starry Dao, do not be afraid. Once you wake up, I will take you to find your mother." But I could never wait for my mother again. This time, I did not want to wait for him either. Bui Tu Xuyen left with Tong Van Duong in the ambulance, followed closely by his parents. The living room quickly returned to a suffocating silence. I lay alone on the cold floor, accompanied only by the shattered remains of my mother’s urn. It was a long time before the housekeeper, in a panic, finally called for a second ambulance. By the time I arrived at the hospital, my consciousness had already begun to dissolve into the void.

Meanwhile, Bui Tu Xuyen stood outside Tong Van Duong’s room, listening to the doctor assure him she had only suffered superficial wounds and would recover after a few days of rest. Only then did he remember to call home to ask which hospital I had been taken to. My phone already held over a dozen missed calls from the emergency room. When he finally called back, his tone was still laced with impatience.

"I am the husband of Hua Tinh Dao."

There was a brief silence on the other end. The nurse asked in a low voice, "May I ask if you are Mr. Bui Tu Xuyen?"

Bui Tu Xuyen frowned. "Yes, it is me."

The nurse’s voice grew even quieter. "Ms. Hua Tinh Dao suffered a fatal intracranial hemorrhage. Resuscitation efforts were unsuccessful. Mr. Bui, please come to collect the body."

The area outside the hospital room fell deathly silent. Bui Tu Xuyen gripped his phone so tightly that the blood drained from his face. A long time passed before he asked in a hoarse, hollow voice, as if he had not understood, "Who did you say?"

The nurse repeated the name. "Ms. Hua Tinh Dao. She has passed away."

When Bui Tu Xuyen raced to the hospital, the hallway lights were a blinding, clinical white. The nurse handed him a transparent plastic bag containing my phone, a blood-stained hair tie, and a small pinch of ashes that I had clutched in my palm. "When she arrived, Ms. Hua was holding this tightly. We tried to take it from her, but her grip was too strong. Only after she passed did her hand finally loosen."

Bui Tu Xuyen stared at the grey-white dust, frozen to the spot as if pinned by an invisible force. He opened his mouth, but no sound escaped. The doctor approached, instructing him to sign the death certificate. Under the cause of death, it read: Intracranial hemorrhage, delayed medical intervention.

Delayed intervention. The words were like blades cutting into his eyes. His hand trembled violently, dragging a long, jagged line of ink across the paper. The doctor looked at him, his voice devoid of warmth. "The patient arrived too late. She had pre-existing trauma; she should have been brought to the hospital the moment she fell. Why did her family delay so long?"

Bui Tu Xuyen’s throat tightened. He wanted to speak, but his mind was consumed by his own parting words: *Be good, Starry Dao, just endure a little longer.* He had always said that to her. Telling her to wait. Telling her to endure. Telling her to be obedient. It seemed as though, as long as she listened, everything would eventually pass. But this time, she truly could not wait for him any longer.

The morgue doors opened. I lay there in silence, the wound on my forehead cleaned, my bandaged hands pale as parchment. Beside me lay the shattered remnants of my mother’s urn. The nurse whispered that when I arrived, I had kept calling for my mother. As the end drew near, my voice grew weaker, until it vanished entirely.

Bui Tu Xuyen stepped forward slowly. He reached out to touch my face, but as his fingers brushed my frozen skin, he recoiled as if burned, finally jolted into reality by the biting cold.

"Starry Dao," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I am here."

No one answered. He tried again. "I am taking you home."

But as the words left his lips, he went rigid. Home. Where was my home? The Bui estate had looked like a sanctuary for seven years, but in reality, it had been a cage. They used a fake refuge to deceive me, fake justice to appease me, and my mother’s ashes to force my submission. In the end, I had to walk the final path alone.

Bui Tu Xuyen finally slumped over, pressing his forehead against the edge of the gurney, his shoulders heaving. Yet, he could not bring himself to sob aloud. The morgue was bitter, just like every night for the past seven years when I had slept clutching my mother’s photograph. He remembered years ago, when I had just woken up, disoriented and trembling, clutching his sleeve to ask, "Brother Tu Xuyen, when is Mother coming to pick me up?"

Back then, he had held me and wept. He had promised, "Be good, Starry Dao. From now on, I am your family."

I had believed him. So, I grew up obediently in the Bui household. I did not dare to eat an extra piece of candy, did not dare to break a single cup, did not dare to cry out loud. I was terrified that if I were not "good," they would cast me aside. Yet, as it turned out, no amount of obedience could buy me a single shred of genuine compassion.

When Bui Tu Xuyen stepped out of the morgue, his gait was unsteady. His phone rang. It was Tong Van Duong. Her voice was light, laced with a delicate, performative sob.

"Brother, the doctor said I am fine now. Where is Sister Tinh Dao? Is she still angry with me?"

Bui Tu Xuyen stood at the end of the long, desolate corridor, silent.