Chapter 15 — Reef Keeper

Nguyen went to Khue's house the next morning and couldn't wait any longer. He knew he was carrying a heavy truth, a truth that could cause Khue extreme pain but was also what she had been waiting for the past twelve years. When Khue opened the door and saw Nguyen's tense face and dark eyes due to lack of sleep, she immediately had a hunch that something important had happened.

"Come in." She spoke in a low voice, inviting him into the house. Her heart began to beat faster even though she didn't know exactly what was about to be revealed.

They sat down at the old wooden table, where Khue's family had witnessed many meals during their childhood. Nguyen held Khue's hand, his eyes were full of tenderness and concern, as if trying to give her a little strength before he began to tell the whole story that his father had confessed last night.

Khue listened in absolute silence, did not interrupt, did not ask, just let Nguyen's words fall into her heart like drops of cold water. She heard about that fateful night, about her father discovering the strange survey team, about the confrontation at sea, about the big wave, about him falling into the water and never being found again. She heard about the hush money, about the twelve-year silence of Uncle Suu and Sau Cung.

When Nguyen finished speaking, a heavy silence covered the whole house. Khue sat motionless, tears silently rolling down her cheeks, no sobbing, no crying out loud, just a silent pain tearing her heart apart from the inside.

"So..." She said, her voice hoarse, "your father didn't die because of a simple accident. He died because he tried to stand up for what was right, and those people, instead of taking responsibility, chose to let him drown, then used money to silence the witnesses."

"That's right." Nguyen said, his voice was equally choked. "I'm sorry, Khue. I'm sorry that my father was silent for so long, and I'm sorry that you had to endure twelve years of not knowing the truth."

Khue shook her head, trying to suppress her rising emotions so she could speak. "It's not my fault, nor is it entirely Uncle Suu's fault. He's just a normal father, put in a terrible situation, threatened, bribed. Humans, when faced with extreme fear, not everyone has the courage to do the right thing right away."

The tolerance in Khue's words made Nguyen both touched and more sad than ever. He squeezed her hand, wanting to convey all the sympathy and sincere feelings that words are sometimes not enough to express.

"I'm not angry because Uncle Suu was silent." Khue continued, her voice gradually becoming harder, as if the pain was gradually transforming into a strong determination. "I'm angry at the people who caused all of this, who used money to cover up a death, and then continued to destroy the same sea that took my father's lives, for the past twelve years with impunity."

"We will find them." Nguyen said, his voice determined. "My father remembers a few characteristics of the man who gave money that year - tall and thin figure, southern accent, wearing a big ring. Maybe this will be a clue to help Mr. Duy compare it with the old personnel records of the Blue Ocean Group."

Khue nodded, wiped her tears, trying to regain the necessary alertness to continue the battle ahead. "I need to see Uncle Suu. I need to hear it from him himself, not from you."

"Are you sure?" Nguyen asked, worried about both of them, afraid that the meeting would be too much for both Khue and his father to bear.

"I'm sure." Khue replied, her voice was steadier. "I need that, so that I can truly put some closure to this pain, and also so that Uncle Suu can be freed from the burden he has carried for the past twelve years."

Before leaving the house, Khue stood for a moment in front of the black and white photo hanging on the wall, a photo of her father standing on the boat's beam, holding a large tuna high in his hand, smiling brightly as if he had never known suffering. She gently touched the photo frame with her hand, whispered something only she could hear, then turned and walked out with Nguyen, her steps much more certain than her trembling appearance just a few minutes before.

On the way to Uncle Suu's house, Nguyen held Khue's hand, saying nothing more, just letting his presence be a silent support for her. Khue felt the warmth from his hand, felt a quiet strength being transmitted to her, enough for her to be able to enter the difficult encounter ahead without collapsing.

That afternoon, Nguyen took Khue to his house. Uncle Suu was waiting, his face full of worry and guilt when he saw Khue enter the yard. He stood up, about to say something, but the words seemed to be stuck in his throat.

"Miss Khue..." He finally said, his voice trembling. "I'm sorry, child. I'm sorry for being silent for so long, letting you live twelve years not knowing the truth about your father."

Khue looked at the man in front of him, his face lined with deep wrinkles of age and the burden of sin he had carried for more than a decade. She felt that there was no more room for resentment in her heart, only a deep understanding for a person who had to live in torment for so long.

"Can you tell me the story again?" She said, her voice gentle but firm. "I want to hear from you personally, I want to know my father's last moments."

Uncle Suu nodded, invited Khue to sit down, and then began to tell the whole story, this time with more detail, including the emotions, fears, and inner struggles he experienced that night and throughout the years that followed. Khue listened, tears fell again, but this time, she also held Mr. Suu's hand, as a way to say that she had forgiven.

"Dad, did you say anything before falling into the water?" Khue asked, her voice trembling because she longed to know a little more about her father's last moments.

Uncle Suu closed his eyes, trying to recall those painful memories again. "He shouted loudly, telling us to back the boat out, afraid we would be punished. The last thing I heard from him, amidst the sound of waves and wind, was him shouting my name — 'My Khue...my Khue...' He must have thought of you a lot at that time."

That sentence was like a knife cutting deep into Khue's heart, but at the same time it was also a great comfort - knowing that in the last moments of her life, her father thought of her and loved her until the last moment. She couldn't hold back anymore and burst into tears, leaving Uncle Suu and Nguyen to comfort her.

When the emotions gradually subsided, Khue wiped her tears and looked straight at Mr. Suu, her voice had now returned to its usual steadfastness. "Thank you for telling me. I don't blame you, but I hope you will help me and Nguyen finish what was left unfinished — find the person who caused all of this, and hold them responsible, not only for my father, but for the entire coral reef, for our entire community."

"I will help." Uncle Suu spoke, his voice now much steadier, as if letting go of the secret that had weighed him down for so many years had helped him regain some of the strength he had lost. "I will officially report to the authorities, no matter what consequences I face. It's time for the truth to be exposed."

Nguyen stood next to him, looking at his father with a look completely different from the complexity he had carried with him all these days. He realized that behind the fear and prolonged silence, his father was always a person who knew pain, knew torment, and in the end, knew how to choose to stand on the right side when he had enough courage. That is a lesson Nguyen knows he will carry with him for the rest of his life, about the weight of silence, and about the value of daring to speak the truth even if it is late.

That evening, when Khue returned home, she sat for a long time on the porch, clutching her father's diary, looking out at the quiet night sea. The pain was still there, deep and aching, but mixed with it was a strange sense of relief—as if a part of her soul, which had wandered for twelve years in ambiguity and doubt, had finally found an anchor.

She opened the diary and wrote a new line on the last page, right below her father's old words: "I know the truth, Dad. I will not leave those who harmed you alone. I will keep this rift, as you promised, and I will get justice for you." Having finished writing, she closed the notebook, hugged it to her heart, and let the last tears fall in the night, before a new determination, stronger than ever, gradually formed in her heart.