Chapter 2 — See You in the Next Life

Every evening when I returned home from work, the moment I turned the key and pushed open the door, I would find him standing in the kitchen, cooking dinner. The warm golden light, the sizzling sounds of stir-frying, the gentle clinking of bowls and chopsticks all blending together to weave a distinct, comforting fragrance that could only be called home. There was once when I could not help myself, lingering by the kitchen threshold, watching him quietly as he prepared the meal. He wore an apron, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his expression utterly focused, his features finely chiseled. His long fingers gripped the handle of the frying pan firmly, his movements both practiced and composed. Suddenly, he turned his head, and I instantly straightened up, flustered and stammering, I was just looking around aimlessly. A soft chuckle escaped his lips, a fleeting tenderness flashing in his eyes as he spoke, Go sit down and rest, it is almost ready. I lowered my gaze and retreated to the sofa, my rebellious heart pounding wildly against my ribs. I constantly reminded myself that he was simply someone I had hired with money, that this gentleness was merely an act, and that I must not fall for it. Yet, every single detail kept weaving its way into my heart, bit by bit, eroding my defenses.

One rainy day, I walked back from the supermarket, drenched completely from head to toe. He glanced at me once, said nothing, and silently turned to walk into the bedroom. I foolishly thought he was angry with me. To my astonishment, a moment later, he emerged carrying a hair dryer and a clean towel, instructing me softly to sit down. He carefully and earnestly helped me dry my hair, his movements slow and gentle as if he were afraid of causing me any pain. I sat quietly with my head bowed, an unnamed warmth slowly rising deep within my chest. Once my hair was dry, he disappeared quietly into the kitchen only to return with a steaming cup of ginger tea, handing it to me with the words, Drink some to warm yourself up so you do not catch a cold. As I took the cup from his hands, the bridge of my nose suddenly stung, and keeping my head lowered, it was a long while before I whispered, Actually, you do not need to treat me this way. He paused for a fraction of a second before laughing lightly, You hired me, did you not, precisely so I would treat you well? I sat in silence, entirely at a loss for words, desperately repeating a single warning to my mind: do not believe it, do not let your heart get involved.

Yet, the thing I feared the most eventually arrived. One night, the adverse reactions following my chemotherapy session hit me far harder than before. My entire body felt utterly drained, my head spun with dizziness, and my stomach churned with unrelenting nausea. Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to leave the hospital and head home, my footsteps unsteady and faltering as the world before my eyes slowly darkened into blackness. Just as I reached the entrance of the residential complex, I finally reached my breaking point, my knees buckling as I collapsed limply to the ground. In that exact fraction of a second, strong arms caught me from behind, holding me securely. Turning my head, I found myself gazing at the face of Tu Chap Ngon, my mind blanking in sheer disbelief, Why are you here? He furrowed his brows, his eyes overflowing with an unmasked, profound anxiety, I waited for you for a long time and when you did not show up, I grew worried something might have happened, so I came out to look for you. The corners of my eyes grew hot, and stubbornly putting up a front, I rasped, You did not need to worry about me, I am fine. He squatted down silently right in front of me, his voice low yet remarkably resolute, Get on, I will carry you. I meant to refuse, but when he turned back, his gaze was so serious and unyielding that I found myself entirely unable to argue.

Pressing against his back, it was the first time I had ever been so close to those broad shoulders. I could hear the powerful rhythm of his heartbeat echoing from deep within his chest, steady and urgent, vibrating directly against my eardrum. The tip of my nose prickled once again, and I quietly clenched my fists in surrender. What should I do, it seemed I was already growing accustomed to this warmth and gentleness. Arriving back at the apartment, he gently laid me down on the bed, turned to pour a warm glass of water, and placed it on the nightstand, Did you take your medicine? Yes, I did. Then go to sleep early. He pulled the blanket up over my shoulders, letting out a soft sigh, Why do you never know how to take care of yourself? A sudden tightness gripped my chest, and bowing my head, I bit down hard on my trembling lip, asking in a broken voice, Have you forgotten, you are only a temporary boyfriend, not a real one. Before the sentence could fully leave my lips, he finished tucking the blanket around me, lowered his head, and murmured, But you never told me that I was not allowed to care about you. My heart shivered violently, leaving me utterly speechless for a long, quiet moment.

From that day onward, I began to notice that the boundary between us had grown hazy and impossible to define clearly. Occasionally, when we crossed the street outside, he would naturally reach out and take my hand. I would instinctively try to pull away, but he would simply lower his head and say gently, If we do not hold hands, how are we supposed to play the part of lovers convincingly? Left with no choice, I would bite my lip and obediently let him hold it, not daring to lift my gaze to look at him. Every sleepless night spent lying in bed, I would dwell on every tiny act of care he showed me throughout the day, my mind wandering into dangerous territory. Would a young man as gentle as this treat someone else just as well if he were hired by another person in the future? At that thought, an unbidden sourness bloomed in my chest, and the corners of my eyes warmed. Yet, immediately, I scolded myself for being a fool. What I had hired was a boyfriend, not genuine affection. He was simply performing his job exceptionally well. In this fabricated romance, I was the director, and he was merely the actor. Everything remained entirely within my control, and nothing could possibly go wrong. Little did I anticipate that certain emotions, once allowed to take root, simply refuse to be controlled.

One night, I fell into a feverish dream where I was a young child running a high fever, locked entirely alone inside a room by my parents while they completely ignored me. In the dream, I cried until my voice grew hoarse, my tears soaking completely through the pillow. I woke up abruptly with a start, my entire face soaked in tears. Opening the bedroom door, I found the living room lights still brightly lit; Tu Chap Ngon sat there quietly, as though he had not slept at all. Seeing my tear-streaked face, he sprang up in mild panic, What is wrong? With a raw, cracked voice, I whispered, I dreamed of myself as a child, burning with fever, locked away in a room while they threw a birthday party for my little brother outside. The more I spoke, the more my voice choked up with emotion. The feelings trapped within my chest burst forth like an untamable flood, heavy tears rolling down my cheeks one by one, Tu Chap Ngon, truly no one has ever cared for me the way you do, not a single person. Before the sentence could finish, he strode forward, gathering me gently into his warm embrace. His chest radiated heat, and pressing against it, I felt as though I had finally found the sole sanctuary left in this vast world. Closing my eyes, I greedily indulged in that tenderness—until I heard him let out a soft sigh right beside my ear, Manh Phon Du, please do not be like this... if this continues, I will no longer be able to stop myself from falling for you in earnest.

That evening, I remained enveloped in the lingering warmth of Tu Chap Ngon’s embrace, finally drifting into a rare, peaceful slumber. That was until the early hours of the following morning when violent, pounding knocks at the door startled me awake. The instant I opened the door, the blood in my veins felt as though it had instantly frozen solid. My parents stood there accompanied by my younger brother, their expressions twisted with utter displeasure as they barged straight into the threshold. Why on earth are you people here? My voice was hoarse and rigid, my fingers digging desperately into the wooden doorframe. My mother let out a cold, contemptuous snort, shoving me aside as she pushed her way into the apartment, Is that any way to speak? Are we not even allowed to come to your home now? Have you grown wings and flown away, refusing to answer any of our numerous phone calls? My younger brother swaggered in right behind her, casting a critical eye around the room, Sis, this place of yours is actually quite nice. You must be saving a pretty penny living here, right? Swallowing down the anger rising in my throat, I forced out, I do not have any money. You have come to the wrong place. My mother’s expression darkened instantly into a scowl, No money? Your brother is about to take his college entrance exams, and the computer you smashed to pieces needs replacing, what do you plan to do about that? My fingers trembled slightly, How do you even know about the computer? The landlord told us the whole story. Have you no conscience at all? Your brother’s exams are right around the corner, are you trying to ruin his entire future?! my mother shrieked at the top of her lungs. My father chimed in right after, Your brother is the sole hope of the Manh family. As for you, a sickly creature who barely knows if she will live to see tomorrow, what good is your money if you do not bring it back to your family? I stared fixedly at the three of them, a sharp ache twisting in my heart as my face turned deathly pale. Just at that moment, the bedroom door clicked open, and Tu Chap Ngon emerged wearing casual loungewear. He cast a chilling glance across the three intruders before walking straight to my side, gently taking my icy hand into his own palm. As if stepping on a cat's tail, my mother shrieked in outrage, Who on earth is this man?! Manh Phon Du, do you have any shame left at all? You actually dare to live with a man?! Tu Chap Ngon’s face hardened into ice, his voice deep and carrying an undeniable, commanding authority, Who I am is none of your concern. But if you dare to shout at her like that one more time, I will call the police immediately. His tone was not loud, but it possessed a granite hardness that allowed for no argument. My mother faltered, her expression shifting in shock, Who do you think you are to meddle in family matters?! She is my person, Tu Chap Ngon stated calmly, the heavy pressure radiating from him filling the entire room. No one has the right to bully her in my presence. Your person? My mother laughed coldly, She has never been in a relationship since she was a child; her entire life should be dedicated to looking after her younger brother. You claim she is your person, what proof do you even have?