Chapter 14 — The Hand That Carves Sin

"A tremendous success." My mentor handed me a peeled apple, his eyes shimmering with profound praise. "Twenty-one hours. You have broken the record for the longest surgery in our hospital's history—no, the entire nation's record. To Hoan, you have created a miracle."

Twenty-one hours. I had stood before the operating table for that long. I accepted the apple but did not take a bite.

"Is his hand... going to be all right?"

"It will be saved." He nodded. "The blood circulation is excellent, and all vital signs are stable. The next phase will depend entirely on his recovery and the success of future rehabilitation."

I remained silent. It was saved. I had personally stitched back together a hand that had been crushed into nothing more than pulp. A strange, unnameable sensation washed over me. There was the professional triumph of a surgeon who had successfully defied the limits of human possibility, yet beneath that, there was a complex emotion I could not quite define.

"To Hoan," my mentor said, his tone shifting. "Do you know, around the fifteenth hour of your surgery, a document arrived from Tran Da's military unit?"

"What kind of document?"

"A document regarding you," he said. "It is an official directive formally rescinding all the false accusations previously leveled against you, restoring your honor, and requesting that the hospital reinstate your position immediately."

I stood there, stunned.

"There is more," he said, picking up another file from the side table and handing it to me.

It was a court summons.

"The divorce proceedings between you and Tran Da are to be reopened. This time, he has relinquished all claims to his assets and has also surrendered full custody of An An to you."

I stared at the summons in my hand, unable to speak for a long while. These were things I rightfully deserved. They were things I had purchased with a twenty-one-hour surgery, and with the permanent ruin of his hand.

"Is he awake?" I asked.

He is, my mentor replied. The anesthesia has worn off, and the pain must be severe. But he is enduring it remarkably well; he hasn't made a single sound.

I nodded, asking nothing more. I remained at the hospital for one more day to monitor my own physical condition. The following day, I completed my discharge paperwork. I did not visit Tran Da. There was nothing left for us to say to one another. The letter of repentance he had signed was the final judgment I had passed upon him, and the surgery I had performed was the final act of closure. From this moment forward, we owed each other nothing. Upon returning home, An An rushed into my arms like a little bird.

"Mommy! You're back!"

She wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed my cheek. Looking at my daughter's radiant smile, the events of the past few days felt like a fading, distant dream. Only the folded surgery consent form in my pocket served as a reminder that it had all truly happened. Life seemed to be returning to its proper orbit. Lawyer Vuong helped me finalize all the divorce proceedings. When I received the official divorce certificate, I felt neither joy nor sorrow; I only felt the crushing weight that had pressed upon my heart for so many years finally lift away. The hospital also announced that I was cleared to return to work. The deputy director called me personally, his voice dripping with enthusiasm, promising that he had already prepared a new office for me and was planning to hold a hospital-wide ceremony in my honor. I refused.

"Director," I said, "thank you for your kind intentions, but I will not be returning."

The deputy director on the other end was visibly stunned.

"Why? Little To, we all know you were wronged. Now that the dust has settled, isn't this the perfect opportunity for you to rebuild your career?"

"Because," I said, looking out the window with calm detachment, "there are some things that, once shattered, can never be made whole again. Even if you piece them back together, they will never regain their original form."

I was speaking of the hand, but I was also speaking of my own heart. The hospital had chosen to distance itself the moment I needed their support most. Now that they perceived my lingering utility, they wanted me back. I was sorry, but I was not a tool to be summoned or discarded at their convenience.

"Then... what are your plans for the future?" the deputy director asked, his voice laced with regret.

"I will continue to be a surgeon," I replied, "but not in your facility."

After hanging up, I let out a long, weary breath. My life was finally, truly mine to decide. A few days later, Mr. Truong came to visit me, bringing news.

"Tran Da is being transferred," Old Truong said.

"Where?"

"To a premier rehabilitation center in Beijing," Old Truong explained. "His unit is arranging it. They say they will spare no expense to ensure his hand recovers its function."

I nodded, indicating I had heard. This outcome was well within my expectations.

"Before he left, he asked me to give you something," Old Truong said, pulling an envelope from his pocket.

The envelope was unsealed. I opened it to find a bank card and a note. On the paper, there were jagged, unsteady words written by Tran Da with his left hand.

"Inside this card is all of my savings and my retirement allowance. The password is An An's birthday. I know these things cannot compensate for what was lost. Let this be... me repaying his debt on his behalf."

He had signed it simply with the word "Tran." I stared at the card for a long time in silence. Then, I handed both the card and the note back to Mr. Truong.

"Return this to him," I said.

"To Hoan, you..."

"I do not want his money," I interrupted, cutting him off. "I have said it before: we owe each other nothing."