Chapter 6 — The 12th-Floor Kitchen Contract

In the days after the anniversary party, both Khang and Diem Tram tacitly avoided repeating the sentence they left hanging on the balcony, instead focusing on the increasingly busy pace of work at Cam Luong restaurant. The new dessert menu developed by Diem Tram has officially launched, receiving positive feedback from both diners and food critics in the city.

“Revenue from the dessert section has increased nearly thirty percent in just the first two weeks,” Kien reported during the morning meeting, unable to hide his excitement. "Many customers also specifically ask about the person who created the layered passion fruit tart."

"It was Diem Tram's effort," Khang replied, his eyes revealing a hint of pride that he couldn't completely hide from the entire kitchen team.

Diem Tram felt her cheeks heat up at that public compliment, but she quickly regained her composure and focused on the task at hand. “I think we could develop a seasonal line, changing periodically to reflect the freshest ingredients of the moment,” she suggested, trying to keep the conversation on a purely professional level.

***

That afternoon, when Diem Tram was alone testing a new recipe in the kitchen after official work hours, Kien happened to stop by, bringing two cups of hot tea. "You work so hard," he commented, placing a cup of tea next to her. "Even after work, I don't rest."

"Thank you," Diem Tram replied, accepting the cup of tea with a grateful smile. "I want to perfect this recipe before presenting it to Khang next week."

Kien sat down in the chair opposite, watching her work in silence for a while before speaking, his voice becoming more cautious. "Can I ask you a somewhat personal question?"

Diem Tram looked up, a bit surprised by the change in his tone. "You just ask."

"You and the chef... is everything between you two really as it is announced?" Kien asked, his eyes full of scrutiny but also containing a sincere concern. "I have worked with Khang for many years, and I have never seen him act like this in front of anyone."

Diem Tram was stunned for a moment, sensing the potential danger in that question. She considered carefully before answering, trying to keep the story as close to the agreed script as possible. "It happened pretty quickly, I'll admit," she replied, choosing each word carefully. "But I'm confident in what we're building."

***

Kien nodded, seemingly not completely convinced by that somewhat vague answer, but he did not ask further. "I just want to say, if you really care about Khang, be patient with him," Kien said, his voice becoming more sincere. "He has experienced many losses since he was young, and it is not easy to open his heart to someone. But once he trusts, he is devoted."

That unexpected sharing made Diem Tram feel a warmth mixed with guilt welling up in her heart. She realizes that behind Khang's cold, principled exterior is a much more complicated story than she ever thought, and the contract between them is gradually becoming something far beyond what she can completely control.

“Thank you for sharing,” she said, her voice sincere. "I'll keep that in mind."

***

That night, when Diem Tram returned to the apartment, she saw Khang sitting alone in the living room, his eyes looking far away toward the window, holding an old photo frame that she had never seen before. Curious, she approached.

"Who is this?" she asked softly, looking at a photo of a boy standing next to a young, beautiful woman in a kitchen uniform.

Khang was startled, as if he had just been caught doing something private. "My mother," he replied after a pause, his voice low. "She died when I was eight years old, in a traffic accident. My father followed her just a few years later from illness, leaving me to be raised by my grandmother."

Diem Tram felt a deep pain hidden behind that brief story. "I'm sorry," she said softly, not knowing what else to say to comfort her.

"It's okay," Khang replied, gently placing the photo frame on the table. "That's why I always focus on work, on proving myself worthy of what my grandmother sacrificed to raise me. Perhaps, that's also the reason I never allowed myself time to think about love, until..."

He left the sentence unfinished, but the look in his eyes when he looked at her said all that was needed. Diem Tram felt her heart pounding at that rare sincerity, realizing that she was gradually seeing a part of Khang's true self, a part that perhaps very few people have ever had the opportunity touch.

"Your grandmother must have had a hard time raising you alone," Diem Tram said, sitting down next to him on the sofa, trying to prolong this rare and sincere conversation.

"She sacrificed a lot," Khang replied, his voice thoughtful as he recalled his childhood memories. "She gave up her plans to retire early to continue running the restaurant, making sure I had enough education, and developing the passion for cooking that I inherited from my mother. I owe her a lot, and I always feel pressured to prove myself worthy of everything she has given me."

"That's probably also the reason she put the clause in her will," Diem Tram commented gently. "Maybe she wants him to learn how to balance, not just bury himself in work and forget about other important things in life."

Khang nodded, his eyes revealing an agreement that he had never thought of before. “I never looked at it that way,” he admits. "But maybe you're right. She's always been the one who understands me better than I know myself."

The two sat quietly together in a rare, warm silence amidst the busy pace of everyday life. Diem Tram feels a new closeness is gradually forming between them, going beyond the framework of a simple work contract.

"Thank you, for sharing this with me," she said softly, looking into his eyes in the soft light of the living room. "I know this isn't an easy thing to say."

"I don't know why I'm telling you," Khang replied honestly, a rare light smile flashing across his lips. "Maybe, I feel secure with you, in a way I've never experienced with anyone else before."

That confession made the atmosphere between them tense in a completely different way — not the tension of anxiety, but the nervous tension of surging emotions, not yet clearly named. Diem Tram quickly stood up, using the excuse of needing to prepare for the next work day to avoid having to face directly the emotions rising strongly in her heart.

"Good night," she said, almost running away toward her room.

"Good night, Diem Tram," Khang replied, his voice still carrying a warmth that he made no attempt to hide, his eyes following her figure until the door closed, leaving him alone with his thoughts that were gradually becoming clearer than ever about what his heart truly desired.

He picked up his mother's photo frame and looked at the radiant smile in the old photo. “What would Mom think of her,” he whispered to himself, a question he had never allowed himself to ask anyone else in all those lonely years. Putting the photo frame back in its original position on the bookshelf, Khang stood up, walked out to the small balcony of the apartment, took a deep breath of the cool night air, and let the chaotic thoughts in his heart gradually calm down.

He knows clearly that the contract between two people was originally established with clear boundaries and strict terms to protect both of them from unnecessary harm. But standing there, in the quiet night of the city, Khang couldn't help but wonder if those boundaries still had any meaning, when his heart began to yearn for something beyond the legal pages they had signed together.

That was the first time in many years that Luong Viet Khang allowed himself to admit, even if only in his own silence, that perhaps his heart had begun to truly vibrate, beyond all the expectations and controls he had ever placed on his life.