Chapter 14 — The Day You Sent Me To Jail

Look at the gate one more time. Turn your back. And leave. I waited for his back to completely disappear at the beginning of the alley before opening the door. Bend down and pick up the paper bag. There is no label on the bag at all. Just a normal kraft paper bag. Open it up— Inside is a glass jar. In the jar are dark brown roasted coffee beans. And a small note. The handwriting on the paper is very scribbled. It looks like it had to be written and rewritten many times before it was finished.

— "This is the coffee bean from the hand-brewed coffee shop I used to like. They moved the shop, I've been looking for it for a while now. I don't know if you still want to drink it anymore. If you don't want to drink it anymore, throw it away. I'm sorry."

I looked at that text. Looked for a long time. That coffee shop. Located in a very small alley. There are only 4 tables. The owner is an uncle in his 50s, quiet, but roasts extremely delicious coffee. Before, I went there every weekend. Sometimes I go alone, sometimes I take Tham Yen Bach with me. He has never drunk hand drip coffee. Sour. Every time I come here I just order Americano. But he still remembered I liked it. Furthermore, he still remembers that the shop had moved. Still looking. I folded the paper and put it in a paper bag. Then carry your bag and go into the house. Place on kitchen counter. I never opened the lid of that glass jar. Don't throw it away either. Just leave it as it is. That evening, I sat on the sofa in the living room, my knees covered with a thin blanket. The TV is on, the volume is turned down very low. The night sky outside the window has no stars. I stared blankly at the TV screen for a while. Then take out your phone. Open contacts. Skip to the “T” rhyme. Tham Yen Bach. The phone number is still there. It's just sitting on the blacklist. My thumb hovered over the screen. Don't click on anything. Just look like that for a while. Then lock the screen again. Put it back in its original position on the tea table. I will not contact him. Not out of hatred. The hatred has passed. The moment I threw that necklace out the window in Zurich, the resentment was over. I didn't contact him, because— There's no going back. Some things, once broken, are broken. The moment he threw me into prison, it wasn't just my dignity that was shattered. What was broken was all the trust, expectation and tenderness I had for him over the past 4 years. What is broken is all the good meanings that the words "Duong Duong" once represented. You can't just put a bag of coffee beans on those things and stick them together. It's not like saying "I'm sorry" can fix it. Even if he compensated the entire Tham Thi Group for me— It still wouldn't be possible to put it back together like before. Because I don't need Tham Thi Group. I never needed it. What I need is someone... someone who, when I ask him "Whose name is on the wedding invitation", will put down his pen, look me straight in the eye, and tell me the answer. It's not like calling a bodyguard to pick me up by my armpits and throw me out. He can't do it. Then it's over. I pulled back the blanket, wrapping myself a little tighter. The TV is showing an old movie. Black and white film. The male lead stands in the rain waiting for the female lead. Waited all night. It's morning, the heroine still hasn't arrived. He turned and walked away. The frame stopped at his back. I looked at that back. Then turn off the TV. Tomorrow still there's still a lot of work to do. Chinh Hang's annual report must be submitted next week. There are 2 new projects that need appraisal. Lawyer Lieu made an appointment with an investor to meet. Life must continue. A life without Tham Yen Bach still goes on. And— Much better than before. I stood up, folded the blanket and put it back in the corner of the sofa. Turn off the lights. Upstairs. Brush teeth, wash face, change into pajamas.