Chapter 7 — Khuong Nguyet's Diary

“I know.”
“She said she wanted to go see Vi Danh Lake with me.”
“I know.”
“She said she wanted to wear that dress to take graduation photos.”
“I know, Tieu Nhan, I know it all.”
The sky outside the window was completely dark. This room had no lights on, only a little yellow light from the street lamp at the end of the alley, shining on the certificate of merit on the wall, shining on Khuong Nguyet's photo. The girl in the photo is still smiling, her eyes curved into baby moons, as if she had never been hurt. I went to the sanatorium to visit Khuong Huc Huy who had become a vegetable.
“Dad, do you know why Tieu Nguyet jumped from the building?”
The person on the bed did not move. I leaned into his ear and whispered a few words. His tightly closed eyelids began to tremble. A tear slipped from the corner of his eye.
“When Khuong Nguyet was bullied, where was dad?”
“Dad was at the casino, he was drinking, he was arguing with Thoi Mi, not letting her see us, not letting us see her, using her to take revenge on mom.”
“Dad, you treat your sister like a hostage. You don't deserve to be our father.”
I turned around, pushed open the door, and calmly said the last sentence:
“I will leave dad here forever, even if you hate it, it's okay to regret it.”
Three days later, I returned to Kinh city. Thoi Mi was still sitting in the living room doing her nails as usual, looked up at me, and said in a light voice:
“Are you back?”
I didn't say anything, walked over and placed the stuffed animal in my hand on her knee. This is Khuong Nguyet's stuffed rabbit, a gift Thoi Mi gave Khuong Nguyet when she was three years old. After the divorce, Khuong Huc Huy threw away everything related to Thoi Mi, Khuong Nguyet only hid this rabbit. She stared at the rabbit for a long time. Have I ever seen Thoi Mi cry? Almost never. She cares most about sophistication and dignity, even when divorcing Khuong Huc Huy, she did not shed a single tear. Now, she hugged this old stuffed animal, burying her shoulders and crying loudly. I didn't want to look any further, walked out the gate. The sunlight outside is warm, so warm that it reminds me of many years ago, the afternoon when Khuong Nguyet first said "sister, I love you". The sunlight at that time was just as warm, her small hand held my finger, her colostrum voice repeated:
“I love you, sister, I love you.”
I love you too, Khuong Nguyet. Love you forever.