Chapter 9 — The Photograph Without a Third Person

Gia Huy came to Ha Studio alone, unannounced, one morning when Dieu Thao was picking up supplies at the photo printing shop. He wore a simple business suit, a far cry from the flashiness of his wedding day, and there were distinct dark circles under his eyes that showed he hadn't slept for many nights.

"Miss Ha," he said, his voice hoarse. "I'm Gia Huy, the groom at the wedding you photographed last month. I need to talk to you."

Ha invited him to sit and carefully observed the man in front of him. This was the first time she had met Gia Huy in person since the wedding day, and she couldn't help but notice the startling similarities between him and the man in the photo — same high nose bridge, same square jaw, as if looking at another version of the same person, only the difference was in his eyes: if Nam carried a quiet fatigue, then Gia Huy carried an intense tension, like a string stretched to the limit.

"What do you want to talk about?" Ha asked, trying to keep her voice calm.

Gia Huy was silent for a long time, his hands clasped tightly together on his thighs. "My mother said you refused to accept money to delete the photo. Mr. Dat said you are still continuing to investigate. I..." he stopped, took a deep breath as if trying to muster up courage. "I want to know what you know."

"Why don't you ask yourself, instead of asking me?" Ha replied, her voice sharper than she intended. "Who is the man in the photo, Mr. Huy? You know better than anyone else, right?"

Gia Huy turned pale, his eyes flashed with naked fear before he could hide it with a fake calm look. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Mr. Huy," Ha said, her voice softening a bit, not because she believed his denial, but because she realized that behind that defensive exterior was a person who was fiercely torn. "I don't want to destroy anyone's life. But I also can't pretend like I never saw what I saw. If you have a twin who is living incognito because of something you know well, I think you should ask your conscience whether remaining silent is worth it."

Gia Huy stood up, his face pale. "You don't understand anything! You don't know what I've been through, the pressure I have to endure every day!"

"So tell me," Ha said, her voice steady. "If you really feel pressured, perhaps telling the truth will be more soothing than continuing to live a lie."

Gia Huy stood still for a long time, his chest heaving with rapid breathing. For a moment, Ha thought he was about to say everything, his eyes showed extreme torment. But then, like a door slamming shut, he shook his head, regaining his hard expression.

"I don't know what story you're trying to make up, Miss Ha," he said, his voice regaining its coldness. "But I advise you to stop, for your own good. My family has the resources to make your life very difficult if you continue to pursue these baseless suspicions."

"Is that a threat, Mr. Huy?"

"That's sincere advice," he replied, then turned and walked out of the studio, his hasty gait as if he was running away from the very questions he didn't dare face.

***

Dieu Thao returned right after Gia Huy left, saw Ha's tense expression and immediately asked what happened. Ha recounted the entire conversation, not missing any detail.

"He almost confessed," Dieu Thao said, her eyes widening. "The way he reacted, the way he couldn't look her in the eye when he denied it — that was not the reaction of an innocent person."

"I think so too," Ha replied, sitting down, feeling exhausted after the tense confrontation. "But he's also suffering from something very heavy. I don't think he's a completely evil person. I think he's trapped between his own sins and the fear of losing everything he has."

"Do you think he will tell his family about this meeting?"

"I will definitely report," Ha nodded, looking out the window where the afternoon sunlight was shining down on the bustling street. "And that means the pressure on their part will be even greater in the coming days."

Just as Ha predicted, that afternoon, a black car parked in front of the studio for nearly an hour, no one got out, simply parked there as a silent reminder that she was being watched. Ha took a picture of the license plate, sent it to Minh Tuan to save as evidence, then tried to continue her daily work even though she couldn't calm down completely.

Late that night, when Ha was about to close the studio, her phone received a text message from Nam - something that rarely happens because she is usually the one who initiates contact first.

"Are you okay?" Write a short message. "I heard someone came looking for you."

Ha was stunned looking at the phone screen. How could Nam know that Gia Huy came to find her, unless he had a personal source from inside the Phan family - perhaps Mrs. Kim Oanh, the mother who has secretly kept in touch with her son for the past four years.

"I'm fine," she texted back. "But I think maybe it's time for you and me to talk more frankly."

His message came after a long silence, long enough for Ha to feel the heavy hesitation behind the words. "Okay. But not at the auto repair shop. I'll find a safer place, then let you know later."

Ha put down the phone, her heart pounding both from worry and from a feeling almost like hope. Perhaps, finally, the secret door she had been trying to open for weeks was about to be fully revealed.

She immediately called Minh Tuan, recounting the entire day's events — the tense meeting with Gia Huy, the car parked in front of the studio, and the unexpected text message from Nam. He listened attentively, occasionally interrupting to ask for more details.

"He reacted like someone trying to keep a secret that has become too heavy to carry alone," Minh Tuan commented about Gia Huy. "That could be an opportunity. If the pressure is great enough, he might collapse on his own before we need to do anything more."

"But at the same time it's more dangerous," Ha said, her voice worried. "People who are cornered often act unpredictably."

"That's right. You need to be more careful than ever." Minh Tuan stopped for a moment. "Regarding the car parked in front of the studio, I will ask someone to check the license plate to see who it belongs to. If it is indeed someone from the Phan Group sent to monitor, it will be important evidence for a harassment complaint, if things go too far."

After hanging up the phone, Ha sat alone in the studio with the lights turned off, leaving only the faint light from the phone screen shining on her face. She thought about Gia Huy, about his panicked eyes when she mentioned his twin brother, about how he almost told the truth before holding back. There was a part of her that felt sorry for the man—a man who was clearly torn between guilt and fear, between protecting himself and facing what he had done.

But she also thought of Nam, of the four years he had to live in the dark, of the tired eyes of the mother who had to hide both of her children. Sympathy for Gia Huy cannot overwhelm the need for justice for those who have had to pay the price for his mistakes.

She reopened Nam's message and read every word again: "I have found a safe place." She wondered, tomorrow, when she finally sat across from him in a safe space, uninterrupted by any unexpected calls, whether she would have the courage to hear the whole truth, and whether that truth would completely change the way she viewed the man she had gradually devoted her heart to.

She stood up, locked the studio door, and walked out onto the already lit night street. On the way home, she passed by a black car still parked not far away, the dark windows did not allow her to clearly see who was sitting inside. She didn't stop, didn't show any fear, just walked straight as confidently as possible, even though her heart was beating much faster than usual.

Returning home, she stood in front of the mirror for a long time, looking at herself - a girl who once only wanted to live peacefully with her photography job, now in the middle of a battle to regain justice for a stranger she had gradually come to love. She smiled slightly at her reflection, a smile mixed with fatigue and determination, then turned off the light and went to sleep, preparing herself for a tomorrow that could change everything.