Chapter 11 — Makeup Artist for the Final Journey

Six days after Mr. Hoàng Đình Tựu's funeral, Vĩnh An received a call from Ms. Hoàng Diệu My. Her voice broke from the first sentence: "Miss An Nhiên, my mother... my mother is also gone."

An Nhiên stood still for a second when she heard the news, although in her heart, from the afternoon she stood at the cemetery and heard the old lady say "he's been waiting for you for a long time", she had a vague feeling that this could happen. But knowing in advance with a hunch and actually facing it are two completely different things.

"My condolences to you." An Nhiên replied, trying to keep her voice steady. "Tell me, under what circumstances did my mother die?"

"Since the day my father's funeral came home, my mother has been lying in bed, unable to eat or drink much, even though my siblings and I tried to comfort her in every way," Ms. Diệu My said, her voice choked up. "The doctor came to examine me several times and said my mother's heart was weak, but there was no acute illness. This morning I went into the room to wake my mother up for breakfast. I saw her lying still, her face calm as if she was sleeping soundly, and her body was cold to the touch."

An Nhiên closed her eyes for a second, imagining Mrs. "I'll be there soon, prepare yourself mentally, let me take care of everything."

*

When Mrs.

Mr. Nghi walked in, stood next to An Nhiên, they both looked at the old lady silently for a while.

"Do you remember what Ms. Diệu My told me, did he like to see what color lipstick he applied?" Mr. Nghi asked, breaking the silence.

An Nhiên searched her memory and remembered the details that Ms. Diệu My told her while doing the procedures for the old man. "My sister said, my father often teases my mother, telling her that her lips with red lipstick look the most like when they first got married. My grandmother often laughs, saying that she's old and still wants red lipstick, the countryside is dead."

"So I'll use that color for the old lady today," Mr. Nghi said, his voice was gentle but firm. "So that the two elders, even though they are no longer in the same place in living memory, can still keep the most beautiful image of each other." An Nhiên nodded, took out a bright red lipstick from the kit, and carefully applied it to the old woman's thin lips, choosing a color tone that was bright enough to remind her of her youth, but still maintain the elegance appropriate to her age. She worked more slowly and meticulously than usual, as if wanting to convey in each movement a farewell to a love that had passed the test of time.

When finished, she placed in the old woman's hand an old wedding photo that Ms. Diệu My brought - a black and white photo of the two people on their wedding day, the old man wearing a long ao dai, the old woman wearing a white ao dai, both very young, eyes sparkling with happiness. An Nhiên placed the photo between the old woman's two hands clasped in front of her chest, as if letting her carry the most beautiful image of both of them on their final journey.

Ms. Diệu My brought a jade green brocade ao dai with delicate embroidered patterns on the collar. It was a bit old but had been carefully preserved over the years. "This is the shirt my mother wore to her youngest brother's wedding, fifteen years ago. She said that was the last time she felt beautiful. My father kept praising me that day, taking pictures with her all day without getting tired of it." She gave the shirt to An Nhiên, her hands shaking slightly. "Can you wear this shirt for mom? I want mom to be as beautiful as that day, when dad was still there praising her."

"Yes, sister. I will wear it carefully." An Nhiên replied, receiving the shirt with both hands, looking at the delicate needlework on the brocade fabric that had become shiny over time.

She spent more time than usual ironing out each fold of the shirt, ensuring that when worn, the shirt's hem would hang down naturally, without wrinkles at any corner. Mr. Nghi, helping with posture correction, commented quietly while working. "This shirt is really well sewn. It must have been ordered by my grandmother at a famous tailor shop in the past."

"Ms. Diệu My said her mother saved her entire month's pension to make this shirt, just to wear it to her youngest son's wedding." An Nhiên replied, still adjusting her shirt neatly. "Every woman has a set of clothes that she treasures the most in her life, right?"

"That's right. And my job, sometimes is simply to help them put on that outfit for the last time, exactly how they want to be remembered," Mr. Nghi replied, his voice was deep and warm.

*

Mrs. Đinh Thị Xoan's funeral took place just six days after her husband's funeral, in the same room, with almost the same mourners. The atmosphere this time was completely different — not the shock of a sudden death, but a profound, almost predictable sadness, making everyone both heartbroken and somewhat understanding.

"My grandparents love each other so much." The old neighbor came to pay his respects the other day and spoke to An Nhiên, his voice both sad and somewhat admiring. "I've lived next door for sixty years, and I've never seen a couple who loved each other so much that even death couldn't bear to be apart."

Ms. Diệu My, even though she was twice as sad as six days ago, had an unusual calmness in her eyes as she stood in front of her mother's coffin. "I knew mom would follow dad, right from the moment I stood at the cemetery and heard her say that." She talked to An Nhiên while waiting for the official ceremony time. "At first I was very scared, trying to take care of my mother in every way to keep her here. But now that I think about it, maybe this is the best way for her. After sixty years of not being apart, now she doesn't have to live those lonely years without her father by her side." An Nhiên nodded, not knowing what to say to comfort her further, just gently placed her hand on Diệu My's shoulder. "I think, you two are probably together now, sister. In some way."

Ms. Diệu My smiled, for the first time in two consecutive weeks of sadness, a smile of relief mixed with tears. "Thank you. You made both mom and dad look beautiful, just like when they were alive. That's the biggest gift my family has received in these tragic days."

*

After the funeral procession for Mrs. She thought about the short six-day gap between two deaths, about a love strong enough to write such a rare parallel ending.

Nguyên Khang, after completing the driving, turned around and stood next to her, both looking at the direction the convoy had disappeared.

"Do you believe in such things? That kind of love that surpasses death," he asked, his voice thoughtful.

An Nhiên was silent for a moment, thinking about the question, then answered with a firm voice. "I think, I don't need to believe in any spiritual sense. I just need to look at what I've witnessed in the past two weeks to know, there are loves that really exist that are deep enough, that they shape the way people live, and the way they leave." Nguyên Khang nodded, did not say more, just stood there with her, looking at the horizon where the sun was starting to set, leaving a complete silence between the two, no need to fill it with any other words.

A few days later, Ms. Hoàng Diệu My stopped by Vĩnh An again, not for any work, just to say thank you one last time before returning to her normal routine. She brought a small box of cakes, placed them on the reception table, and sat down to chat with An Nhiên for a while.

"I cleaned my parents' room and found my mother's old diary," she said, her voice was much calmer than the days of the funeral. "In it, my mother wrote that from the day she married my father until now, she has never regretted choosing him for a single day. I read it and cried all night, but I also felt warmed up, because I knew my parents had a truly happy life, not just what people looked at on the outside."

"That is a very precious thing, sister." An Nhiên replied, pouring more tea for her. "Not everyone has such a perfect marriage to look back on with no regrets." Ms. Diệu My nodded, her eyes looking far into the yard in front of Vĩnh An. "You know, there were times when I was sad because I thought I lost both my parents in just one week, too quickly, too unfairly. But now that I think back, I feel like I'm luckier than many people, because I know for sure that at the last moment, my parents will still be together, no one has to suffer alone." An Nhiên smiled, nodded in agreement, and in her heart, the story of Mr. and Mrs. Tựu - Xoan became one of the cases that left the deepest impression in her professional journey, not because of sadness, but because of a rare proof that love, when sincere enough, can write incredibly beautiful endings.