Chapter 8 — The Day I Return

He wore a dark gray shirt, rolled up the sleeves below the elbow, and didn't wear a tie. This is the most comfortable way I've ever seen him dress. Three years. I only glanced at him from afar at the station, very faintly. Now face to face, so close. He really has lost a lot of weight. The cheekbones are clearer than before, and the eye sockets are also deeper. But her facial features are still that aggressive beauty - sharp eyebrows, high straight nose, thin and determined lips. It's just that the eyes are different. The previous Ky Lang's eyes were always sharp, like a sword that could be unsheathed at any time. And now, those eyes — How should I put it? Like a sword soaked in water for three years. Still a sword, but rusted. He looked at me. From the moment I walked through the door, his eyes were glued to me, as if wanting to engrave me into his retinas.
“I'm here.” he said.
The voice sounded hoarse than on the phone.
"YES." I sat down across from him, took off my jacket and threw it to the side, "Sit down."
He was stunned for a moment. It was like I didn't expect me to be so calm. Then he walked over and sat down opposite me. Distance of one and a half meters. About the width of a table. The waiter brought tea and appetizers, tiptoed out, and the door closed without a sound. Quiet. The tea on the table was steaming, Long Tinh tea in a white porcelain cup radiated a clear jade green color. I picked up the teacup, took a sip, then put it down.
“We can start now.”
He looked at me.
“I said — will answer every question.”
"Correct."
"Okay." He lowered his eyes, his fingers unconsciously caressing the rim of the teacup, "Ask."
These past three years I have had so many questions. But sitting in front of him now, after three years of condensation, most of the questions that tormented me to the point of madness were no longer important. Only three sentences left.
“First question.” I said, “You rejected me that year, what was the real reason the first time?”
Ky Lang's finger stopped. He looked at the tea cup and didn't say anything for a long time. I don't push. Wait about half a minute.
“When I was fifteen years old, I first confessed my love to you,” His voice was very deep, as if it was forced from deep within his chest, “I just found out I have a family genetic heart disease.”
The air seemed to freeze for an instant.
“What?” Nguyen Tieu Ngu's voice seemed to explode in my head.
But my facial expression didn't reveal anything.
"The doctor said, the most optimistic situation is to live until the age of forty. If not optimistic, then... you can leave at any time."
He looked up at me, his eyes contained something that couldn't be expressed in words.
"When I was seventeen, the second time I confessed my love, I had just finished my first heart ablation surgery. When I was nineteen, the third time I confessed, my heart suddenly stopped and I had to go to the ICU. When I was twenty-one, the fourth time..."
“That's enough.”
I interrupted him. The voice was calmer than I imagined.
“I mean, every time you rejected me during those eight years, it was because you thought you wouldn't live long.”
He did not deny it. I held my hands tightly on my knees. Nails dug deep into palms.
“Second question,” My voice didn't have a ripple, “If that's the case, why did you marry my sister?” As soon as this question popped out, his whole body felt like someone had punched him hard. The shoulders slumped an inch.
“Giang Ninh…” He closed his eyes, “It's not the same.”
“Not the same anywhere?”
“She knows.”
I frowned.
“She knew about my illness from the beginning.” He said, “Your mother knows too.”
There was a "bee" sound in my head.
"My mother?"