Chapter 7 — Light Does Not Touch

22

The woman was stunned and turned her head in disbelief. She saw Luc Chieu kneel down. The tall man, just now, forcefully questioned her. Yet in the blink of an eye, he sat down on the crowded sidewalk, bursting into tears without a sound. He already believes it. Or rather, he can no longer deceive himself any longer. That the cold and cruel girl said goodbye to him that night... After he left, she quietly returned, flipping through the trash to find the necklace he designed himself. Not just a necklace. Luc Chieu is not stupid, now he understands. What I want to find again, what I can't bear to throw away, what I take with me to the grave— More than just a necklace. The truth is sometimes just like a thin sheet of paper standing in the way. Just a small tear is enough to see everything inside. About my leukemia diagnosis three years ago that my brother told me. About how I suddenly wanted to break up, but couldn't bear to part with the necklace. About my death. Everything, everything, like broken beads scattered everywhere. After three long years, it was finally strung together into a whole. Or perhaps, the truth has been right in front of Luc Chieu's eyes for a long time. He once saw my face become pale and haggard due to illness. He once witnessed me holding the diagnosis form in my hand, absent-mindedly walking home at night. He once received a call from my brother, hearing my brother say that I had picked up the necklace. Countless times, countless times, the truth had appeared right before his eyes. At that time, he suspected that I was working too hard and under too much pressure. He thought I was just losing weight, or simply had a cold. He firmly believed that my brother was lying to hide something. He just never considered a possibility— That I was going to die. In the middle of a busy street, I heard his cry. The cry was full of regret and pain, but nothing could be changed now. Until his voice gradually became weaker. At that moment, I suddenly realized— Maybe he still loves me, still cares about me. Even though it's all over, even though it doesn't matter anymore. Everything has passed, everything has become the past. I saw Luc Chieu take off his wedding ring and heard his hoarse, desperate voice:

“There was no wedding, there was no one else.

“It's all fake, I lied to you.”

"I hate you, I resent you, that's why I want revenge, I want you to suffer like me."

“But what should I do… I'm wrong, I'm really wrong… Everything is wrong…”

“It's not like that…”

23

I was stunned, somewhat surprised. As it turned out, he had never really been with anyone else. But I also understand that, until today, that is no longer important. Luc Chieu was lost, muttering meaningless words:

“I'm just upset when I see you going back and forth with Trinh Hoai An.

“I know he has liked you for a long time.

“In college, he always looked for me, because his family was not good, so he was grateful to me for helping him.

“Later, he stayed at his father's company, just because he saw me there for an interview.”

I was surprised. Didn't expect such a thing to happen. The story of me helping Trinh Hoai An in college is so far away in my memory, I don't even remember it clearly anymore. In fact, one time, when I was his assistant, he was drinking and half-jokingly said that he stayed at the company because of me. But I just thought it was something I said when I was drunk and never paid attention. My brother often says I'm always slow in love. Now, when I reflect on the years working with Trinh Hoai An, Moi gradually realizes that perhaps his concern for me... was never simply because he was a colleague or senior. It's just that at that time, I never really thought about it. At that time, Luc Chieu and I were happy together, our relationship was solid. To me, Trinh Hoai An is just a boss, I have never had any other thoughts. But now, all of that is no longer important. Luc Chieu hugged his face tightly, crying so choked that he couldn't control it:

"Little Sister... I should have believed you, I should have believed you..."

“That last call…

“I should have answered the phone myself…

“Why… intentionally let someone else receive that call?”

I turned away, looking at the increasingly crowded traffic on the street. I thought I was no longer sad. But at this moment, my eyes suddenly turned red. I couldn't help but remember that last call three years ago. The call that when I was about to die, I couldn't help but dial Luc Chieu's number, but in the end I still chose to hang up.

24

That day, on the hospital bed, I witnessed a female patient in the next bed pass away. As she was dying, her boyfriend came running. She didn't want him to be heartbroken, so she lied, but was still discovered in the end. That day, I saw that man rush in, desperately hugging her. She lay in his arms, breathing her last. For the first time, I saw her smile. She smiled and left. After she passed away, her boyfriend personally took care of everything and cleaned up everything that was left. The day he came to the hospital room to pick up her remains, I couldn't help but chat a few words. He said:

“Lovers, if they can't meet one last time,

“That is truly a lifetime of regret and torment.”

So, that day— The day I was about to die. Finally, I couldn't hold back and called Luc Chieu. But the person who answered the phone was a woman. Her voice is gentle:

“He's in a meeting.

“Should I pass on the message, or should I give him the phone?”

I've never met her, but I recognize this voice. After Luc Chieu went abroad, I still silently followed news about him. I know he has rumors with his boss's daughter, which seem to be more than just rumors. On TV, that woman once gently gave an interview in front of the camera. That voice, I always remember. The sound of the ventilator gradually became more intense. I took off the oxygen mask and finally said softly:

“Sorry, I called wrongly.”

I didn't have the courage to say anything more, then hung up. Now remember. There are too many memories, too many moments that make me regret thinking about them. About how I couldn't say goodbye properly. As for our last meeting, it was just another hurtful argument. Last Finally, it's all too late. It's over. Passersby quietly took turns passing by. The other woman said a few more comforting words, but then had to continue her work. She held a broom and pushed the garbage cart away. People passed by, some turned their heads to look at the man sitting curled up on the sidewalk, crying until he was exhausted. But then no one stopped to ask or comfort me. Because in this world, there are too many heartbreaking stories, and there are countless mentally depressed people. Who knows, tomorrow it will be them who will sit here, bow their heads and cry? Everyone only knows how to continue living their lives first. My soul became heavy and vague. I don't know how much time passed, but I finally saw Luc Chieu stand up. His expression was blank, like a puppet whose soul had been drained. Traffic was flowing fast on the road, but he didn't seem to see anything. Dumbfounded, he walked toward the middle of the street. A shrill car horn suddenly sounded.