Chapter 3 — The Inn at the End of the Pass

Three days later, the survey team's car still hadn't been repaired — it turned out to be more damaged than expected, and had to wait for spare parts to be shipped from the city. Khai Dang, Phu and Sinh have become familiar faces in the dining hall at every meal, to the point that Nhat Minh began to reserve a seat next to Khai Dang as a default habit, while Thuy Duong often asked Sinh about the city and the universities down there.

Only Gia Binh still keeps his distance. That evening, while Thao was calculating the books at the wooden counter, he suddenly appeared, standing in front of her with his arms crossed, a tense expression on his face.

"How long do you plan to keep those surveyors here?"

Thao looked up from her notebook, a bit surprised by her younger brother's attitude. "Until their car is fixed. What's wrong, is there a problem?"

"The problem is, do you know what they surveyed? I heard my friends in the garage say that this group is from the road construction company, planning to open a new route through the mountain, no longer going through our pass." Gia Binh spoke in one breath, his voice quite harsh. "She happily offered them wine and cooked delicious meals for them to stay in, while they were probably planning to bankrupt this restaurant."

Those words were like a bucket of cold water thrown straight at Thao. She put down her pen and tried to keep her voice calm even though her heart was filled with the same worries that she had been trying to push aside for the past few days.

"I've heard rumors about that. But there's nothing official yet, so don't rush to conclusions."

"If it's not official, what's the point of them measuring for months? You keep covering up and trusting people, and one day you'll lose everything." Gia Binh shouted, then walked straight into the room, closing the door with a bang.

Thao sat quietly at the counter for a long time, her hand clenching the pen so tightly that her knuckles turned white. She knew Gia Binh wasn't wrong to be worried, but the way he spoke - with a harshness mixed with a bit of hidden gloating, as if waiting for an excuse to prove that staying in this place was a mistake from the beginning - made her both sad and angry.

That night, Thao couldn't sleep, so she went to sit on the familiar steps. The mist was thick and cold, creeping through the thin layer of clothing. She remembered the time four years ago, when her father was still in the hospital, his liver was seriously damaged. Every time she visited, she saw him getting a little thinner. At that time, Mrs. Ha ran everywhere to borrow money, her face was always haggard, and her eyes were sunken due to insomnia. Gia Binh was sixteen years old at that time, and had already started dropping out of school to work as a construction assistant to make money, no matter how much Thao tried to stop him, he couldn't.

"You're not his biological son, why do you have to worry so much about him?" Thao still clearly remembers the words she blurted out to Gia Binh that year, in a moment of exhaustion and panic over hospital bills. She regretted it as soon as she finished speaking, but the sentence was like a needle stuck deep, irreversible.

Gia Binh then just looked at her, did not respond, turned around and left. From that day on, a gap formed between the two that, no matter how many years passed, no matter how Thao tried to make up for it in every way, it was never completely filled.

She remembers even more years ago, when her biological mother - Mrs. Vu Thi Xuan - was still alive. Memories of her mother have faded over time, only a few fragments remain: the scent of her mother's hair, fragrant with soapberry, the sound of her softly singing lullabies on rainy nights in the forest, and the old calico-covered notebook she left behind, inside which each recipe was meticulously recorded in neat handwriting - sour soup with stream fish, braised meat with turmeric, five-color sticky rice for holidays. Thao still keeps that notebook in the bottom drawer of the wooden counter, occasionally taking it out and flipping through the pages while cooking, as a belated way of talking to her deceased mother since she was too young to fully understand the loss.

Perhaps because she grew up with such a void that could not be filled, Thao always tried her best so that her younger siblings would not have to experience the same feeling of helplessness, even though the way she expressed herself was sometimes clumsy and rigid, making the very people she wanted to protect feel suffocated rather than protected.

Father passed away half a year before Mrs. Ha left the pass. The night before leaving, she sat with Thao for a long time by the fire, not being able to say a complete sentence, just crying, apologizing repeatedly, saying that she could not bear to look at this house one more day because it reminded her of everything she had lost - her husband, her money, even the trust of her own children. Thao, then twenty-three years old, hugged her grandmother and could only say one sentence: "Go in peace. I have a baby here."

It's been three years. "Having children" turned out to be a heavier promise than Thao thought when she uttered it.

The sound of footsteps on the wooden floor made Thao turn around in surprise. Khai Dang stood there, probably just going out to get some fresh air. He saw her sitting alone late at night so he stopped.

"Aren't you sleeping yet? It's late."

"Can't sleep." Thao replied, her voice was a bit tired and she couldn't hide it.

Khai Dang sat down at a moderate distance from her, not too close, not too far. For a long time no one said anything, only the sound of insects chirping in the bushes nearby.

"I vaguely heard it just now, it seems like Mr. Binh and you have something going on." Khai Dang spoke softly, his voice cautious. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop, it's just that the walls here are too thin."

Thao smiled bitterly, not denying it. "It's just family matters. She's worried about road problems and takes all her frustrations out on me."

"Is what he said wrong?"

The straightforward question made Thao pause a bit. She turned to look at Khai Dang, her eyes searching.

"What do you know to ask that?"

Khai Dang was silent for a moment, as if he was considering between keeping to work regulations and something bigger that was growing in his heart over the past few days.

"I can't go into details, because the project hasn't been officially announced yet. Talking about it now will only cause unnecessary confusion. But I don't want to keep it from you forever." He stopped, took a breath. "It's true that there is a new road project being researched. I'm just a survey engineer, I can't decide anything, but I know enough to understand that if that project becomes a reality, this pass... will change a lot."

The words he said, even though carefully considered, still hit Thao like a hammer blow. She sat quietly, looking down at her hands clasped together in her lap.

"So it's true." She whispered, her voice shaking uncontrollably.

"I'm sorry." Khai Dang said, his voice low, full of guilt. "I should have said it sooner, right from the first day. But I... I also didn't expect to fall in love with this place, with your family, so quickly. I'm afraid saying it will make things different between us."

Thao turned to look at him, in the dim light coming from the window, his face appeared full of sincerity and real torment, not the fake look of someone just doing his job.

"Thank you for telling the truth." She said, her voice calmed down, even though her mind was still full of chaos. "But I need to know more, as soon as possible. Not because I blame you, but because I have a family to protect, an inn that is my father's entire life. I can't sit still and wait for rumors to come before realizing I've lost everything."

Khai Dang nodded, his eyes determined. "I promise. Whatever I know for sure, I'll tell you first."

That night, the fog on Vuc Suong Pass fell thicker than ever, covering the distant tree tops white. Thao returned to her room late at night, her heart heavy but also with a strange feeling among her worries — the feeling that, no matter what, she no longer had to face all of this alone.

The next morning, Thao woke up early as usual, but instead of immediately starting to cook, she stood silently for a while in front of Gia Binh's room door, her hand raised to knock and then lowered. In the end, she just left a plate of warm sticky rice in front of the door, along with a small piece of paper hastily written: "Eat breakfast and then go to work. Last night I spoke harshly, I'm sorry." Didn't sign, because it wasn't necessary — only the two sisters in the family ever had that kind of quiet message.

When she returned to the kitchen, the plate of sticky rice had disappeared from the door without realizing it, and the small piece of paper was neatly placed on the kitchen window sill, with no further responses written, but not crumpled up and thrown away like previous angry times. Thao looked at the paper, the corner of her mouth slightly raised. For Gia Binh, staying silent and not giving up is a form of forgiveness.

That morning, while setting the table for the survey team, Thao caught Khai Dang's eyes looking at her from the other side of the table, a questioning look full of concern after last night's story. She nodded slightly, indicating that she was okay, and received a relieved smile from him - a small gesture but enough to make that morning, even though still heavy with worries, still have a warm light creeping in.