Chapter 4 — The Light Keeper at the Sea Gate

On Friday, a tropical depression suddenly formed offshore, bringing strong winds and heavy rain across the Cua Vong area. Hoai An woke up in the middle of the night by the sound of rain hitting the window and the howling wind outside. It felt like the whole stone house was vibrating with the force of nature.

She quickly put on her coat, walked out into the hallway, and saw that the light in Khoi's office was still on. He was sitting in front of an old radio, headphones close to him, continuously taking notes in his duty notebook, his face tense with intense concentration.

"What's up?" Hoai An asked, her voice a bit worried when she saw the serious look on Khoi's face.

"The depression is getting stronger faster than forecast," he replied, not taking his eyes off the radio. "The meteorological station has just issued a warning that the wind could gust to level eight or nine in the next few hours. There are still a few fishing boats that have not yet returned to port."

Hoai An felt his heart tighten at that information. "What do we need to do?"

"Ensuring the lighthouse operates stably is the most important thing right now," Khoi replied, standing up and quickly putting on a raincoat. "That's the only navigation point for ships trying to find their way to shore to avoid the storm. I need to go up and check the system right away."

"I'll go with you," Hoai An said immediately, without any hesitation, even though she knew full well how dangerous it was to climb to the top of the tower in the middle of a raging storm.

Khoi looked at her for a moment, seemingly wanting to stop her, but in the end he just nodded. "Wear a raincoat and hold firmly to the railing when going up the stairs. The wind up there is very strong."

Together they struggled against the fierce wind to climb the spiral staircase inside the tower, the howling wind outside seemed to want to tear the whole building apart. When arriving at the light booth, Khoi quickly checked each part, ensuring the light still swept steadily through the dense rain.

"Everything's fine," he said, his voice filled with relief, but his eyes never left the screen that monitored the main generator's output. "But if grid power is cut due to a storm, we need to make sure backup generators are ready to go immediately."

At that moment, there was a flash of lightning, followed by a fierce rumble of thunder, and all the lights in the light room suddenly went out, leaving only dense darkness, except for the dim light from Khoi's head flashlight.

"The power grid is cut," Khoi said, his voice suddenly tense to the point of trembling, a panic completely different from the calm expression he had shown before. Hoai An could clearly feel that this was not simply a reaction to a technical problem, but something that deeply touched an old wound.

"Koi, are you okay?" she asked, placing her hand on his shoulder in the darkness, trying to reassure him.

He didn't respond right away, his breathing was rapid, his hands shaking as he tried to start the backup generator system with the manual switch. "The backup generator should start in less than a minute," he muttered, his voice more to himself than to her. "Don't delay. Don't leave it off for too long."

A few tense seconds passed in the darkness, with only the sound of wind and rain roaring outside, until the sound of the backup generator successfully starting up rang out, and the lighthouse light lit up again, sweeping steadily through the rain as if there had never been any interruption.

Khoi breathed a sigh of relief, but his body was still visibly shaking. He sat down on the floor, leaning his back against the wall, holding his knees with both hands, a completely different position compared to the strong, calm look that Hoai An once knew about him.

"Koi," she called softly, sitting down next to him, her voice filled with worry. "What happened?"

He was silent for a long time, only the sound of his rapid breathing mixed with the sound of the wind and rain outside. "Two years ago," he finally spoke, his voice hoarse and broken, "on a stormy night like this, the backup generator failed. The lights went out for nearly ten minutes."

Hoai An held his breath, listened, feeling the terrible weight of every word he said.

"That night, there was a ship trying to find its way to shore to avoid the storm," Khoi continued, his voice choked. "On the ship was my younger brother, Khiem. He was only twenty years old and was learning his first seafaring profession on the ship."

He stopped, took a deep breath, as if trying to gather enough courage to continue the rest of the story that he had buried for the past two years.

"Without a guiding light, the ship lost direction in the middle of the storm and crashed into a reef," he said, each word tearing open a wound that had never fully healed. "Khiem... he didn't make it."

Hoai An felt tears welling up, not only because of that heartbreaking story, but also because of the terrible burden that Khoi had carried on his shoulders for the past two years, alone, with no one to share. "It's not your fault," she said softly, even though she knew that words of comfort at this time probably couldn't reach the pain deep inside his heart.

"I was the one on duty that night," Khoi replied, his voice filled with self-blame. "If I had reacted faster, if I had checked the transmitter more thoroughly than before, maybe..."

He didn't finish his sentence, just bowed his head, letting the tears he had held back for two years finally roll down his face in the darkness of the light booth, amidst the sound of the rainstorm that was still howling endlessly outside, and Hoai An, not knowing what else to say, just quietly wrapped her arms around him, letting him know that, at least for now, he didn't have to face that pain alone anymore.

They sat like that for a long time, in the darkness penetrated only by the dim light from the headlamp placed on the floor, until Khoi's breathing gradually returned to normal. He looked up, his face was still wet but his eyes were less panicked.

"Sorry," he said softly, his voice hoarse. "You don't need to hear these things."

"Don't apologize," Hoai An replied, gently squeezing his hand. "I'm glad you spoke up. For the past two years, you must have endured all of this alone, with no one to share it with."

Khoi was silent, just nodded slightly, his eyes looked out the glass window where the lighthouse light was still scanning steadily through the rain. "Mr. Nam Vong knows about it," he said after a while. "But he never forced me to talk about it or get over it in any way. He just stayed quietly by my side, letting me face it myself when I was ready."

"And maybe, I was never really ready," Hoai An said gently, not as a reproach, but as a sincere understanding.

"That's right," Khoi admitted, his voice somewhat lighter, as if telling the truth had relieved some of the burden that had been on his shoulders all along. "I kept thinking, if I continue to stay here, continue to do this job well, maybe I can atone for some of my mistakes. But actually, I'm just hiding, not daring to face the truth that Khiem is gone, and nothing can change that."

The storm gradually weakened towards dawn, the howling sound of the wind also gradually decreased, giving way to small drops of rain. Hoai An and Khoi still sat there, side by side in the light booth, not saying much, simply being present, sharing the silence together, as the lighthouse light still steadfastly shined, guiding any ships still struggling to find their way back to shore on the last stormy night of this season.

When it was dawn, the rain had completely stopped, leaving only gray clouds drifting in the sky and the sea surface was still rolling violently after the storm. Khoi stood up, reached out to pull Hoai An up, and they both walked out to the small balcony outside the light room, breathing in the rare fresh air after a long, stressful night.

"I need to go down to the village to check on the situation," Khoi said, his voice regaining some of its familiar calmness. "See if any boats were in trouble last night."

"I'll go with you," Hoai An replied immediately, without thinking.

They went down to the village together in the pale light of the dawn after the storm. The whole Ha Trieu village is busy counting the damage - some roof tiles were blown off, some trees fell, but fortunately, there was no serious loss of life. Mr. Nam Vong, when he saw Khoi and Hoai An appear together, his eyes flashed with a bit of surprise mixed with relief.

"All the boats have returned safely," he said, patting Khoi's shoulder affectionately. "My light was still on all night last night, everyone saw it and felt secure in finding their way to shore."

Khoi nodded, but his eyes still showed some residual tension. Mr. Nam Vong, with the sophistication of an experienced person, glanced at Hoai An standing next to Khoi, then looked back at Khoi, as if realizing that something had changed between the two during the last stormy night, but he did not ask anything more, just smiled slightly and meaningfully before returning to the work of counting the village's damage.

Standing in the middle of a fishing village slowly recovering after the storm, Hoai An looked at Khoi, saw that he was also looking towards the vast sea, where the sunlight was gradually emerging from behind the gray clouds, and she knew, although the road ahead was still unclear, but tonight, something important had changed between them, a true connection built from the deepest hurts that they both dared to share together.