Chapter 5 — The End-of-Day Train

During the next week, her mother's unfinished question still hung in Khanh Chi's head like an untied string. She didn't ask again, because she knew her mother's personality, the more she asked, the more closed she became, but she began to pay closer attention to every little detail related to Thien An - the way he spoke, the way he avoided questions about his family, the way he always looked to the older passengers on the train to start a conversation, especially Mr. Canh.

One Wednesday night, when the train stopped at Cau Doi station, Khanh Chi happened to witness Thien An sitting down next to Mr. Canh, proactively starting a conversation.

"Uncle, I heard that you worked as Van Phong station chief for a long time, right?" Thien An asked, his voice friendly, but Khanh Chi, standing not far away, still recognized the intentional caution in every word he chose.

"Yes, twenty-two years, now retired." Mr. Canh replied, without any doubt. "What are you asking for?"

"I'm an architect, I'm researching the history of this road to do a small project. Can you tell me about the period when you worked? The most memorable stories."

Mr. Canh smiled and seemed excited when asked about the time of his life he was most proud of. "There are so many stories, it won't last a month. What do you want to hear?"

"I heard that in the past, there was a big accident at Vong Pass..." Thien An said, his voice slowing down, carefully observing the old man's reaction.

The smile on Mr. Canh's lips gradually faded. He looked at Thien An for a long time, his eyes suddenly becoming suspicious. "Why do you ask that?"

"I'm just curious, I heard it's a memorable story of the route."

"Memorable is memorable," Mr. Canh said, his voice lowered, "but it's not something that should be told to strangers as a funny anecdote, boy. Someone lost their life in that story."

Thien An remained silent, bowing his head as if admitting his fault. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."

"Okay, it's okay," Mr. Canh waved his hand, his voice softened, but his eyes still remained somewhat wary. "It's just that, it's best not to bring it up again. The person involved is still alive, it's very heartbreaking."

Khanh Chi stood listening from afar, her heart pounding. She walked closer, pretending to come to check tickets so she would have an excuse to stop at them.

"Mr. Canh, Mr. An, what are you two talking about so seriously?" She asked, trying to keep her voice normal.

"It's nothing, son," Mr. Canh replied quickly, changing the subject. "Mr. An here is just asking about the old railway."

Thien An looked at Khanh Chi, a moment of confusion flashed across his face, as if he was afraid she had heard something she shouldn't. "Yes, I'm just curious," he repeated, his voice somewhat hurried.

Khanh Chi nodded, not asking further at that moment, but in her heart, the disparate pieces began to tend to fit together in a shape that she had not yet dared to name. This young man was unusually interested in the Vong Pass accident. He found the right people who had witnessed it. And every time he was asked directly, he always avoided it, using the vague excuse of "curiosity" or "architectural project".

She continued working, but her eyes occasionally glanced towards Thien An who was sitting silently looking out the window, his face reflected in the dark glass, carrying a heavy thoughtful expression that she had never seen before.

At the last station, when most of the passengers had gotten off, Thien An lingered, waiting for Khanh Chi to finish cleaning the train car.

"Miss Chi," he called, his voice holding a rare hesitation. "Can I buy you a cup of coffee? Ms. Van's shop nearby seems to still be open at this time."

Khanh Chi was a bit surprised by the sudden invitation, but she nodded. Perhaps this is an opportunity for her to directly ask the questions that are in her heart, instead of always guessing in the dark.

Chuong Y Van's small coffee shop is located just a few steps from the station, warm yellow lights shine from the glass window. Even though it was late, Y Van was still cleaning up the counter. When she saw Khanh Chi walk in with a stranger, she raised her eyebrows thoughtfully but said nothing, just brought out two cups of hot coffee and retreated inside.

"You want to ask me something, right?" Khanh Chi spoke first, without beating around the bush. "Since the first time I got on this train, you kept asking about Vong Pass, about the accident, about the people who worked on the line. You're not simply a curious architect, right?"

Thien An bowed her head, clasped her hands around the hot coffee cup, and was silent for a long time before answering. "You're right. I... I have another reason to find out about it. But I'm not ready to say everything right now, I hope you understand. It's something related to my family, and I need to be sure before saying anything that could hurt others."

"Hurt me, is that what you mean?" Khanh Chi asked directly, her eyes never leaving him.

Thien An looked up, looked straight into her eyes, and in that moment, Khanh Chi clearly saw a deep torment hidden behind his usual calm appearance. "Maybe. I'm sorry for not being honest from the beginning. But I promise, when I'm sure about everything, I'll tell you everything. It's just not the right time."

Khanh Chi remained silent, looking at the steam rising from the cup of coffee in front of her, her heart confused between budding trust and an insecurity she couldn't name. She could have asked more questions, could have forced him to speak right away, but there was something in his eyes that made her choose to wait - a naive but genuine trust, perhaps stemming from the way he treated the other passengers on the train, from the sincerity she felt through every small gesture of his over the past two weeks.

"Okay," she said finally. "I'll wait. But remember to keep that promise."

"I promise." Thien An replied, his voice firm, and for the first time since entering the shop, he smiled, a relieved smile as if he had just relieved a part of his burden.

They sat for a while longer, talking about other idle things — about Boi Linh and her dream of studying art, about Mr. Thin and the train driving stories he told, about Van Phong and the small changes in the town over the years. The atmosphere between the two gradually became lighter, as if the admission of a secret, even as yet unexplained, had unintentionally drawn them closer together instead of pushing them apart.

"How long have you been an architect in Thanh Chau?" Khanh Chi asked, wanting to steer the conversation to a lighter direction.

"Six years," Thien An replied, gently turning the cooled coffee cup. "But recently I took a break, am working freelance, taking on a few small projects to have time to travel this route more often."

"Sounds like a big decision."

"Somewhat like that," he smiled slightly, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "There were things that happened at my old company that made me need some quiet time to think about many things. I'll tell you about it another time, it's too long."

"I'm not in a hurry," Khanh Chi replied, and she realized she was telling the truth. She wanted to hear his story, not because of professional curiosity like when they first met, but because of something more intimate that had been quietly developing over the past two weeks.

Truong Y Van walked out from the counter and placed two empty glasses on the side table. She glanced at the two people meaningfully and quickly said: "You two, sit comfortably. I'm about to close the door but I won't chase away the regulars."

Khanh Chi blushed, knowing her friend was teasing her and quickly waved her hand. "We'll be right back, don't talk nonsense."

Y Van chuckled and then turned back inside, leaving the two of them sitting together in the warm yellow light, an air of pleasant confusion creeping in between them. Thien An looked at Khanh Chi, the corner of her mouth still smiling, and in that moment, she suddenly realized that she was no longer looking at him as a strange passenger carrying a secret, but as someone she had somehow begun to care about more than she thought.

When Khanh Chi left, it was late at night, the road leading home was quiet with only the sounds of insects and the moonlight fading behind a thin layer of clouds. She walked slowly, looking back once at the station platform, where the yellow light was still shining from the small cafe, where Thien An was probably still sitting there, holding her own secret.

She didn't know what that secret was, but she sensed that it was bigger than she thought, that it might overturn everything she still believed to be true about that night twelve years ago. But tonight, she chose to keep a rare warm feeling in her heart — the feeling of someone who just had someone honestly admit that there was something left unsaid, instead of continuing to pretend it was nothing.

In the distance, the last train of the day has settled in the depot overnight, two old train cars silent under the dim security lights, waiting for a new day, a new trip, carrying familiar people and perhaps, secrets that are gradually being revealed.