Chapter 7 — Justice Delayed

Sometimes he would arrive bearing a strawberry cake. Other times, he brought a small bouquet of white daisies. But for the most part, he simply sat before the tombstone, lingering from dawn until dusk. The Bui family household had effectively ceased to exist. Song Van Duong had petitioned repeatedly to see him while he was incarcerated, but he had rejected every attempt. After his release, his parents sought him out. His mother wept, pleading that she was old and that he was her only son. Bui Tu Xuyen merely gazed at her, his expression devoid of warmth.

When Hua Tinh Dao died, she only had one mother, too.

His mother fell silent, unable to offer a rebuttal. From that day forward, they never crossed paths again. Bui Tu Xuyen used the remnants of his fortune to establish a charitable foundation dedicated to supporting patients suffering from cognitive impairment following vehicular accidents. He named it the Tinh Dao Foundation. Many people praised his depth of feeling, whispering that he was seeking redemption for his late wife. Whenever he heard such remarks, Bui Tu Xuyen would lapse into silence. His late wife. In the past, he had always promised that he wanted to marry me. Yet, on our wedding day, I never received a true ceremony. In the seven years that followed, he had never truly regarded me as a wife. To him, I was merely a child who required supervision, someone to be appeased with convenient lies and managed like an object in his care. To call me his late wife now was far too late.

One winter, a heavy snowstorm descended upon the cemetery. Bui Tu Xuyen arrived under an umbrella and placed a red scarf before the headstone. It was the very scarf my mother had hand-knitted for me on my wedding day seven years prior. After the accident, the scarf was stained with blood; his mother had deemed it ill-omened and tossed it into a storage room. He had searched for a long time before recovering it. It could not be cleaned. It could not be mended. Like so many things. He crouched before the grave, whispering softly, Tinh Dao, I have brought mother’s belongings to you. The two of you should not feel cold on that side anymore.

Wind whipped through the graveyard. Snow gathered on his shoulders, quickly dusting him in white. He continued, I dreamt of you yesterday. You were still wearing your wedding dress, standing somewhere very far away. I called out to you, but you did not turn back. You were holding her hand, and you just kept walking forward. At this, he let out a sudden laugh, yet tears fell onto the snowy ground. That is for the best. Do not look back. I am not worthy.

The photograph on the headstone was one that Bui Tu Xuyen had spent a great deal of time restoring. In it, I had not yet been through the accident. I wore my wedding gown, my smile radiant and sweet. That day, I truly believed I was about to marry the one I loved most. I also believed that my mother would always stand behind me. But in the end, I lost my mother, and I lost myself. Bui Tu Xuyen reached out to wipe the melting snow from the photograph. His fingertips lingered on my smiling face for a long, aching moment.

Tinh Dao. If there is a next life, he murmured, his voice so faint it was nearly carried away by the wind. Do not meet me again.