Chapter 26 — The Photograph Without a Third Person

Their honeymoon took Ha and Gia Bao to a small town on the Central Coast, where long white sand beaches and clear blue sea water created a completely contrasting scene to the hustle and bustle of the city they had just left. The small homestay they rented was located right next to the beach, every morning when they woke up they could hear the sound of waves crashing outside the window.

"This is exactly what I needed," Ha said that first morning, standing on the small balcony overlooking the ocean, taking a deep breath of the fresh, salty air. "No phone rings, no photo appointments, no work messages."

Gia Bao came to stand next to her, his arm gently wrapped around her shoulder. "I'm glad I finally convinced you to turn off your phone for a week."

"I just turned off notifications," Ha replied, giggling. "But I promise not to check on work unless there's a real emergency."

The following days passed in rare peace that both of them deeply appreciated. They spend time walking along the beach at sunset, trying fresh seafood dishes at small roadside eateries, and simply enjoying each other's presence without being influenced by any outside pressure.

"Do you know," Ha said one afternoon, as they sat on the sand watching the sunset, "this is the first time in years I really feel like I don't have to worry about anything."

"Me too," Gia Bao replied, squeezing her hand. "For the past four years, my mind has been obsessed with finding a way to prove my innocence, finding a way to protect my loved ones. Now, for the first time, I feel like I can truly live, not just exist."

They sat quietly together, watching the sun gradually sink into the horizon, dyeing the sky and sea orange, a scene so beautiful that it didn't need any further explanation.

***

During the trip, Ha couldn't completely resist her photographer instinct. She brought a compact camera, not for work, but to preserve private moments of her new life — Gia Bao smiling in the morning sunlight, her bare feet imprinting on the wet sand, glasses of fresh coconut water placed next to each other on the small wooden table.

"You said you wouldn't work on this trip," Gia Bao teased when he saw her raise the camera to take pictures of him swimming in the clear blue water.

"This is not work," Ha replied, smiling. "This is about preserving memories. There's a big difference."

"So what are you going to do with these photos?" he asked, swimming closer to shore, seawater dripping from his hair.

"Maybe I'll make a separate album, just for the two of us," Ha replied. "Not to show off or brag, simply to look back and remember these happy days."

One evening, while the two were having dinner at a small restaurant overlooking the sea, Gia Bao suddenly asked a question that made Ha stop and think. "Have you ever thought about expanding your studio? Not only taking wedding photos, but also doing more meaningful projects?"

"What do you mean?" Ha asked, curious.

"I thought about the messages people sent after our story was reported," Gia Bao explained. "A lot of them are facing their own injustices. Perhaps, I can use my photography talent to tell those stories, help bring those issues into the public light."

Ha pondered over that idea, feeling the excitement gradually build in her heart. "That's a great idea. Maybe I'll start a reportage photography project, telling the stories of ordinary people who are fighting for justice in their own way."

"I will always support you in whatever you want to pursue," Gia Bao said, taking her hand across the dining table.

***

The honeymoon ended too quickly for both of them, but both Ha and Gia Bao returned to the city with a new spirit, full of energy and plans for the future. As soon as she returned, Ha immediately started sketching ideas for the reportage photography project that Gia Bao had suggested.

"I've already thought of a name for the project," she told Dieu Thao in the first meeting after the break. "'Light After Dark' — tells the stories of those who have found justice or are on a journey to find it, through the lens of a camera."

Dieu Thao immediately showed excitement at that idea. "I like this name! And I think, with the studio's current reputation, a lot of people will be willing to share their stories."

The two began planning the details of the project — how to approach potential subjects, how to ensure privacy and respect for participants, and how to present their stories as authentically as possible without exploiting their pain for commercial gain.

“We need to be careful,” Ha said, her voice serious. "This is not about taking advantage of other people's stories to gain more fame. The main purpose must be to help them, to give them a platform for their voices to be heard."

"I understand, Ms. Ha," Dieu Thao replied. "We will do this with the utmost respect and care."

That evening, when Ha told Gia Bao about the progress of the project, he could not hide the pride in his eyes. “I know you'll turn this idea into something truly meaningful,” he said. "That's just who I am — always finding ways to turn adversity into opportunities to help others."

Ha smiled, feeling the warmth in that sincere compliment. “I learned that from our own journey,” she said. "From how he turned four years of suffering into motivation to protect others from similar injustices."

They sat together in their cozy little apartment, soft yellow lights illuminating the space, both feeling certain of the meaningful future that lay ahead — a future built not only on their love for each other, but also on a shared commitment to using their experiences to create positive change for those around them.

***

The first week back to work, Ha began contacting people who had sent messages sharing their stories after Gia Bao's case was reported. One of the first cases that caught her attention was the story of a woman named Thu Hang, who lost her husband in a work accident similar to what happened at Gia Bao's works four years ago, but never received adequate recognition or compensation.

"I don't know if my story is worth telling," Thu Hang said over the phone, her voice still hesitant. "It's been five years since my husband died, and I'm not sure people still care."

"Every story deserves to be heard," Ha replied, her voice warm and sincere. "You don't have to share if you're not ready, but if you want to, I'd love to listen and help you tell that story in the way you feel most comfortable."

After the first call, Ha decided to arrange a face-to-face meeting with Thu Hang, bringing Dieu Thao along to record the most authentic moments of their conversation. The meeting took place in Thu Hang's small house, where she lived with her two small children. Her late husband's photo was solemnly placed on the altar in the middle of the living room.

"He was a dedicated electrician," Thu Hang said, her voice shaking as she recalled the painful memories. "The company said it was his fault, that he didn't follow safety procedures. But I know he was always careful. I believe the protective equipment they provided had problems, but I have no proof, no one has come forward to testify."

Ha listened with deep sympathy, recognizing disturbing similarities between Thu Hang's story and what Gia Bao had experienced. "Do you still keep any documents related to the case?" she asked softly.

"I still keep everything," Thu Hang replied, standing up and taking out an old box filled with papers. "I always hope that one day someone will believe me."

After the meeting, Ha decided to contact Gia Bao, who is now working as a construction safety consultant, to see if he could help re-evaluate Thu Hang's case from a professional perspective.

"I will review these documents carefully," Gia Bao said when Ha brought back copies of the documents Thu Hang had provided. "If what she describes is true, it is possible that this is not an isolated case, but part of a broader systemic problem."

A few days later, Gia Bao confirmed Ha's initial suspicions - the protective equipment inspection records that the company provided to Thu Hang's husband had many abnormalities, similar to what he had discovered in his own case.

“This could be the beginning of something much bigger than we initially thought,” Gia Bao said, his eyes filled with determination. "If we can help Ms. Thu Hang find justice, perhaps we are also paving the way to uncover a broader work safety problem."

Ha feels the weight of what they are about to embark on - not just helping a single woman, but possibly the first step of a longer, more meaningful journey, continuing the spirit of fighting for justice that the two have built together since the first days of their mysterious meeting with photo number seventeen.