Chapter 20 — The End-of-Day Train

The following week, good news continued to come to the group campaigning to keep the railway. Boi Linh reported that the number of signatures collected, both online and in person, has far exceeded the original target, reaching more than eight thousand people who signed in support, including not only residents along the route but also many people who were attached to this route in the past, and have now moved to live elsewhere. The Provincial Department of Transportation Office officially confirmed that it will hold a public hearing at the end of the month, with the participation of government representatives, independent traffic experts, and community representatives.

The excited atmosphere spread throughout the small town of Van Phong. Y Van's coffee shop these days is always crowded with people coming in and out, discussing the upcoming hearing and what needs to be prepared to ensure the most convincing presentation. Mr. Canh proposed inviting a few other former railway employees, who worked on the line since their youth, to attend the hearing to add weight to the community's voice. Ms. Nhan worried about preparing a list of small business families willing to testify about the economic impact if the route was closed. Even Nhat Ha also asked for half a day off to be present, bringing along statistical records from the district hospital on the number of elderly patients who regularly use the train line to go for regular checkups.

Khanh Chi, amidst all the preparation work, still couldn't completely get rid of the question about the old photo she saw in Mrs. Tam's house the other day - the image of a young man in a railway uniform standing next to a small boy. There were nights when she lay awake, remembering every little detail of Thien An's behavior over the past months - the way he reacted when hearing about Deo Vong, the way he remained silent in front of the picture of her father in the traditional room, the way he always tried to avoid direct questions about his family's past - and all of those details now seemed to whisper confirmation of something she had not dared to fully admit.

One afternoon, when Thien An was busy in Thanh Chau all day to meet some potential travel partners at Mr. Bang's invitation, Khanh Chi took advantage of her rare free time to visit Mrs. Tam alone, bringing some fruit as a gift as an excuse.

"Chi came to visit without An?" Mrs. Tam asked in a cheerful voice. She led her into the house, poured her a drink, and with trembling hands brought out a plate of prepared betel and areca nuts and placed them on the table according to the habit of receiving guests that has been ingrained in her lifestyle for decades.

"Yes, Mr. An is busy in Thanh Chau, I just took the opportunity to visit you," Khanh Chi replied, her eyes accidentally stopped at the old photo frame hanging on the wall, where she had noticed it last time.

Mrs. Tam noticed her eyes, sighed lightly, then stood up, approached the photo, her trembling fingers gently touched the dusty glass frame with time, gently wiped a thin layer of dust with the hem of her shirt as a respectful gesture that had been repeated countless times over the years.

"Are you curious about this photo?" she asked, her voice low.

Khanh Chi nodded, not daring to lie, her voice was soft as if afraid of breaking something fragile. "Yes, I see the man in the photo wearing a railway uniform, just like the uniform my father used to wear."

Mrs. Tam was silent for a long time, then sat down on the chair, her eyes looking distantly at a time long gone in her memory. "That's your son, Quach Van Thang. An's father." She spoke slowly, each word as if carefully considered after many years of never uttering it in front of outsiders.

Even though she had somewhat guessed this, when she heard Ms. Tam's own confirmation, Khanh Chi still felt a great shock spread throughout her body. Her hands involuntarily clasped the hem of her shirt, her heart beating rapidly as if she had just run a long distance. She sat quietly, not daring to speak, afraid of interrupting the flow of her grandmother's memories that were gradually unfolding.

"Her son used to be a signal guard on this route, the Vong Pass section," Ms. Tam continued, her voice choked but still trying to keep coherent. "He was the most gentle and careful child in the family, doing everything he did thoroughly. Yet after the accident that year, people blamed him, saying he was irresponsible and did not fulfill his duties. He was fired, was slandered by people, his wife - An's mother - could not stand the pressure, took the child and left to live elsewhere. He stayed alone, trying to clear his name but no one listened, and finally moved out, living the last years of his life in poverty, illness, Carrying an injustice that no one can wash away."

Mrs. Tam used her handkerchief to gently wipe the corners of her eyes, her voice lowered further. "My son died in poverty, my dear. In the last years of his life, he lived alone in a small room in a strange town, doing all kinds of odd jobs to get by, not daring to return here for fear of people's eyes. I only saw him a few times before he passed away. Every time I saw him, he asked about An, telling her to take good care of him, not to let him know too much about what his father had gone through, for fear that his son would carry more psychological burden at such a young age."

"So how does An know everything?" Khanh Chi asked, her voice still shaking.

"It grows up, you'll have to figure it out for yourself," Mrs. Tam replied, her eyes filled with both sadness and a bit of mixed pride. "When he was in his third year of college, he came here, searched through all the old papers she still kept, and then started asking everywhere. She couldn't stop him, she could only tell him to be careful, don't let his father's injustice turn into a burden on his shoulders for the rest of his life."

Khanh Chi felt tears rising and couldn't hold back. "So Mr. An knows all about this?"

"I know," Mrs. Tam replied, her voice filled with sadness. "He came to live with his grandmother when he was young, after his parents broke up. When he grew up, when he understood enough, he began to learn about his father's past, went everywhere to find documents, met people who had worked with his father in the past, trying to find a way to exonerate his father, even though he had passed away a long time ago. She knew that he had kept that torment in his heart all these years, he just didn't want to bother anyone, so he silently carried it alone."

Khanh Chi sat quietly, the final pieces of the puzzle now completely fitting together. The man she loved, who stood by her side throughout the journey to save this railway, was the son of the man who was unjustly blamed in the accident that took her father's life. He has known this for a long time, perhaps right from the first day he stepped on the train at the end of the day, and he chose to silently learn, silently endure, instead of telling her directly from the beginning.

"Grandma," Khanh Chi asked, her voice trembling, "so when did An know who my father is?"

Mrs. Tam looked at her, her eyes full of sympathy, as if she understood clearly what was going on in the heart of the young girl in front of her. "I think, he knew right from the first night he heard you mention your father's name on that train. But honey, don't blame him yet. I believe, he was just trying to find the right way to say it at the right time, so as not to hurt you any more."

Khanh Chi nodded, but in her heart, a storm of emotions was rolling violently - both pity for Mr. Thang's fate, heartbroken at the thought of her father, confused and hurt because of the feeling of being kept hidden for a long time by the person she loved and trusted the most.

"Don't be angry with him," Mrs. Tam added, holding Khanh Chi's hand, her voice earnest. "I know he truly loves you. These past few months, seeing him happier and more energetic, I'm very happy. He's just scared, afraid that if he tells you too soon, you'll look at him with different eyes, will associate him with your pain instead of seeing him as himself."

Khanh Chi was silent, not knowing how to respond, just gently squeezed the old woman's wrinkled hand as a way to reassure her, even though her heart was equally chaotic.

She left Mrs. Tam's house when it was dusk, walking on the familiar path with her heart full of worries, not knowing how she should face Thien An when he returned, not knowing whether the newly recognized love between the two would be strong enough to withstand the heavy truth that had just been revealed. The sunset dyed the familiar village road red, but for the first time in many weeks, Khanh Chi no longer felt that beauty brought any peace, she only felt that her heart was heavy as if she was carrying a large block of stone and did not know where to put it.