Chapter 15 — The End-of-Day Train

Mr. Thin's small house is located at the end of the alley, yellow light shines from the only open window. Khanh Chi walked in and saw that he had already made a pot of tea and two old porcelain cups placed neatly on the rickety wooden table in the middle of the house, as if he had been mentally preparing for this conversation for a long time.

"Sit down," he said, pouring tea into a cup, his hands still shaking a bit.

Khanh Chi sat down, waiting silently. Mr. Thin took a sip of tea and looked out at the dark yard outside for a long time before starting.

"That night it rained very heavily, it rained continuously for three days straight, the whole road was flooded in many sections. Uncle Thang, the person in charge of guarding the signal at Vong Pass, reported to his superiors twice that week about the crack in the slope, asking to send someone down to urgently reinforce it. But the company was cutting maintenance costs at that time, the report was shelved, and no one came down to check." Mr. Thin stopped, his voice choked.

"The night of the accident, Uncle Thang was on duty. He saw an unusual sign on the mountainside right before your train arrived. He tried to send an emergency signal, but the communication line was cut due to wind and rain, and the signal couldn't reach in time. He ran along the tracks, trying to use a hand-held signal light to signal your three children from afar, but the distance was too close, the train was too fast, and he didn't have time to stop completely."

Khanh Chi sat quietly, her hands clasped tightly around the cold tea cup, not daring to breathe loudly, for fear of interrupting the stream of painful memories Mr. Thin was trying to recount.

"Your father, when he saw Uncle Thang's signal light and realized the situation, was able to apply the brakes and separate the last two carriages before the locomotive fell off the rails. That action saved the lives of all passengers. But he could not get out of the cab in time." Mr. Thin stopped and wiped his eyes with his hand. "After the accident, the company needed a quick explanation to reassure public opinion, to avoid being blamed for ignoring the maintenance report. They concluded that Uncle Thang was slow in sending out the warning signal, that if he had followed the correct procedure, the accident could have been avoided. No one mentioned the two previous reports of ignored cracks anymore."

"So they put all the responsibility on Uncle Thang?" Khanh Chi asked, her voice shaking with anger.

"That's right. He was forced to quit his job, was shunned and gossiped about by many people in the area, thinking that it was his negligence that killed his three children. His wife couldn't stand the pressure, took their young son and moved away for a while. Uncle Thang stayed alone for a few more years, trying to clear his name but no one would listen, and finally moved away, no one could contact him anymore. It is said that he died of liver disease about six or seven years ago, embracing him. according to the injustice that has never been washed away."

Khanh Chi burst into tears, unable to hold back anymore. "So why didn't anyone tell me this truth for the past twelve years? Why did everyone let me believe that it was just a simple natural disaster?"

Mr. Thin bowed his head, his voice full of repentance. "I'm sorry, son. At that time, everyone was afraid, afraid of losing their jobs, afraid of being reprimanded by the company if they spoke up to defend Uncle Thang. I was also a coward like everyone else, only daring to silently believe that he was innocent, but not brave enough to stand up and tell the truth. That is the thing I regret most in my life."

Khanh Chi sat quietly for a long time, tears rolling down endlessly, both because she loved her father and because she loved the strange man named Thang, who had suffered an unnecessary injustice for many years. She suddenly remembered Thien An's painful eyes every time the accident was mentioned, his unusual reaction to the photo of her father in the traditional room, and the unfinished story he still didn't have the courage to tell. Every piece of the puzzle was now almost complete in her mind.

Mr. Thin poured more tea for both of them, his hands were still shaking. "Later I heard that, before his death, Uncle Thang also wrote a long letter to the railway company, explaining the entire incident, including a copy of the landslide warning report he sent. But no one responded. Perhaps that letter is still somewhere in the company's archives, if it hasn't been destroyed over time."

"Do you still keep in touch with Uncle Thang's family?" Khanh Chi asked, holding his hand tightly.

"No, my son. After they moved away, I tried to contact him the first few times, but gradually lost track of him. I only heard rumors that Uncle Thang's son would study very well in the future, pass the entrance exam to a big university in the city, become an architect or something. I was happy for him, because at least he had a good life, not entangled in the shadow of the old story."

Those words made Khanh Chi's heart tighten. She didn't say anything, just nodded, feeling more clearly than ever that the final pieces of the puzzle were gradually coming together into a picture that she had long hunched over but didn't dare admit.

She left Mr. Thin's house when it was late, walking into the night with a heavy heart. She didn't go home right away, but wandered to the train station, where she often found peace when she was troubled. And there, she saw Thien An standing alone by the station fence, as if he was also waiting for her, or hiding from his own thoughts.

"You know Uncle Thin told me, right?" Khanh Chi asked directly, his voice still choked.

Thien An turned to look at her, his face pale under the station lights. "I... I vaguely heard him mention meeting you tonight."

Khanh Chi told the whole story, detail by detail, her voice trembling but still trying to maintain coherence — about the missed crack, about the signal light Uncle Thang tried to give on a rainy night, about her father applying the brakes to save everyone's lives, about Uncle Thang being blamed so the company could avoid prosecution. Thien An stood silently listening to everything, not once interrupting, his hands clenched tightly on the railing until he turned pale, his face gradually losing all color.

When she mentioned the part where Mr. Thin mentioned the vindication letter that Uncle Thang sent before his death but never received a response, her voice choked. "Can you imagine a man carrying injustice until the moment he dies, but no one takes the time to read what he wrote? I keep thinking, if he were my father, how heartbroken he would be to know that his colleague and friend had to suffer such injustice just because the company wanted to quickly close the case."

When she finished telling him, he still stood there, silent for a long time, to the point that Khanh Chi began to worry.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly.

"I'm fine," he replied, his voice hoarse, his eyes looking down at the platform, avoiding her eyes. "It's just... that story is so heavy."

Khanh Chi looked at him, clearly feeling that there was something he was trying to suppress, a fierce struggle going on behind that silent appearance. She wanted to ask directly, wanted to force him to tell the truth right now, but seeing the pain clearly visible on his face, she couldn't bear it.

“Whatever the truth,” she said, her voice softening, “I think the most important thing now is for the honor of the dead to be restored, and for this route — which has been associated with both tragedy and good things for so many people — not to be needlessly erased.”

Thien An looked up at her, his eyes flashing with a new light amidst the pain that was still scattered. "You're right. Maybe... maybe the best way to redeem what's been lost, is to hold together what can still be saved."

That night, standing on the quiet train platform under the dim moonlight, the two began seriously discussing a plan to save the railway — no longer discrete ideas, but a shared determination, a silent promise that they would do everything they could to keep this last train of the day rolling, as a way for the two of them, each in their own way, to heal from the wounds left by the past.

"We will need to collect signatures of support, need concrete evidence of the value of this route to the community, and need a feasible plan to present to the Department of Transportation," Thien An said, his voice gradually regaining its familiar certainty, as if embarking on concrete action helped him temporarily escape the chaotic emotions he had just experienced. "I will draft the technical plan, but we need more people to join hands."

"Boi Linh and her friends can help spread the word on social networks," Khanh Chi said, quickly wiping away the remaining tears, starting to return her mind to the things that need to be done ahead. "Ms. Van is probably willing to lend the cafe as a gathering place for everyone."

They stood there, together sketching out the first steps for a long journey ahead, the moonlight dimly spread across the empty train platform, and in both of their hearts, although the pain of the past was still intact, a new ray of hope had begun to rekindle.