Chapter 17 — The Summer Contract of Western Beauty and Beasts

The end of the first hearing did not mean the case was over. For many months afterward, lawyer Thai Bao Long continuously requested additional field appraisal records and new psychological evaluation sessions for Tue An, causing the file to continue to thicken with each wave of rain and then sunshine in the plateau. The rainy season of that year passed, giving way to the crisp days at the beginning of the dry season, and then another rainy season flooded back to cover the tea hills - nearly half a year added to the time Nha Khanh had lived in Suong Hill, but the court still had not set a date for the final verdict. Life on the farm, amidst those long waits, seemed to have turned to a new page, much lighter and warmer. Nha Khanh and Bach Son no longer keep a clear distance like in the early days, the small gestures of care gradually become so natural that both sometimes can no longer distinguish between the habits they had been trained to play the role of husband and wife in front of outsiders, and what were the real vibrations growing in each person's heart.

One afternoon, when the whole family went to the fields to harvest tea, Nha Khanh slipped on a slippery slope because of the rain the night before, almost falling into the gutter on the side of the road. Bach Son reacted quickly like an instinct, reaching out to pull her back, hugging her completely in his arms for a short moment but enough to make them both stand still, their hearts racing.

"Are... are you okay?" he asked, his voice hoarse, his hand still holding her waist tightly, not letting go yet.

"It's okay," Nha Khanh replied, her voice equally trembling, her cheeks turning red because of the close distance between the two. She could clearly feel his rapid breathing, the familiar scent of soil and highland sun and wind on his faded shirt, and in that moment, a part of her secretly wished this moment could last a little longer.

Realizing that the silence was somewhat unusually long, they both stepped back at the same time, avoiding each other's eyes, their faces turning red like teenagers who were first moved, even though in fact they were both adults who had experienced many storms in life.

"Thank you," Nha Khanh mumbled, bowing her head to continue picking tea, trying to hide her still racing heartbeat.

Bach Son did not answer, just nodded, turned away to continue his work, but his hand, unconsciously, still felt the warmth from her slender waist, a feeling he could not easily erase from his mind all afternoon.

A few days later, the only inclusive preschool in the area organized a small community event, inviting families with children attending the early intervention program to participate, including Tue An. This was the first time the baby participated in a crowded activity since starting regular therapy sessions with Dr. Tu Ngoc Diem, and both Bach Son and Nha Khanh couldn't help but feel nervous.

Amid the noisy crowd of parents and children, Tue An initially appeared tense, clutching Nha Khanh's hand and not letting go. But thanks to the patient companionship of both her father and Nha Khanh, standing on both sides, each holding one of the baby's hands, forming a familiar safety shield, Tue An gradually calmed down, even daring to step closer to an area with colorful blocks, where a few other children were also playing.

Watching his daughter gradually integrate, even if it was just small steps, Bach Son gently squeezed Nha Khanh's hand, which was holding Tue An's other hand, a completely natural gesture, no longer the slightest bit forced like an arranged role.

"Looking at her like that, I feel like all my efforts were worth it," he said softly, his voice filled with emotion.

"She is much stronger than we think," Nha Khanh replied, smiling as she looked at Tue An's small figure carefully stacking blue squares on top of each other.

The event ended successfully. On the way home, the three stopped at a small roadside restaurant for Tue An to rest after a long and emotional day. Sitting opposite each other at a simple wooden table, the sunset dyed the entire yard yellow, Bach Son suddenly reached out and gently stroked a strand of hair falling from Nha Khanh's forehead behind her ear, a gesture so gentle that it made both of them stunned for a moment.

The distance between their two faces was closer than ever, enough for both of them to clearly feel the other's breath, enough for a fragile moment that seemed about to burst into something far beyond what either of them had ever allowed themselves to think about. But at that moment, Tue An's voice calling "daddy" rang out from the next table, where she was pointing at a dragonfly that had just landed on the arm of the chair, pulling them both back to reality, shyly backing away from each other.

"I... I'm calling dad," Nha Khanh mumbled, trying to hide the confusion rising in her heart.

Bach Son gently cleared his throat, stood up and walked towards his daughter, but his steps were still somewhat awkward, different from his usual calm appearance. In his heart, a big question was gradually taking shape more clearly than ever - how much longer could he continue to pretend that everything between him and Nha Khanh was simply a mutually beneficial agreement, when his heart, more and more clearly, no longer obeyed any terms written on paper.

On the car ride back to the farm, Tue An fell asleep in the back seat because of a long day of activities, leaving the space in front with only Bach Son driving and Nha Khanh sitting next to him, the car's lights illuminating the winding mountain pass road in the middle of the plateau night. No one said anything for a long time, only the steady sound of the engine and the sound of the wind blowing through the slightly opened glass door.

"You know," Bach Son suddenly spoke up, his eyes still looking straight at the road ahead, "before you came, I thought I would never open my heart to anyone again. I was afraid that if I loved someone and then lost them again, I wouldn't have the strength to get back up a second time, not to mention I would still have to worry about An."

Nha Khanh listened silently, her heart softened before that rare confession. "I understand that feeling. After the incident with Viet Cuong, I also thought I would never trust another man again."

"But what now?" he asked softly, his voice carrying a cautious inquiry.

Nha Khanh turned to look at him, the faint light from the dashboard cast an unusually gentle look on her face. "Now, I think there are people who come at the right time, in the right way, enough to make me believe again, even though I have no intention of letting that happen."

Bach Son gently squeezed the steering wheel, the corners of his lips curled up in a rare smile of relief. For the rest of the way, no one said much, but that silence no longer felt awkward like the first days, but was filled with such warmth and connection that both of them implicitly understood that their relationship had entered a completely different stage.

That evening, when returning to the farm, both of them avoided repeating the moment at the cafe, but that sweet awkwardness still lingered in every gesture and look they exchanged throughout dinner. Uncle Sau Lanh, with the sophistication of an experienced person, immediately recognized the difference, just smiled slightly and said nothing, letting the two young hearts find their own way to each other according to their own rhythm.

After the meal, Nha Khanh went to the garden to water the unfinished flower bed in the afternoon, the new moon hanging in the clear highland sky. Bach Son found an excuse to help her, even though she was already familiar with the job and didn't need any help. The two quietly worked side by side in comfortable silence, occasionally exchanging a brief look and then quickly turning away, like two children playing hide and seek with their own emotions.

"Nha Khanh," Bach Son spoke up to break the silence, his voice had a rare hesitation. "That afternoon at the bar, I... I'm sorry if my actions made you feel uncomfortable."

Nha Khanh stopped watering, turned to look at him, her eyes shone with undisguised sincerity. "You don't need to apologize. I... I don't feel awkward, just a little surprised."

Bach Son looked at her, in the dim darkness with only moonlight and oil lamp light shining from the kitchen window, he could clearly see her cheeks were still pink. "So... if there was one more time, would you be willing?"

That unexpected question made Nha Khanh stunned, her heart beating so fast that she could clearly hear each beat in her chest. She didn't answer verbally right away, just nodded slightly, her eyes lowered but the corners of her lips curled up into a shy, happy smile.

Bach Son stepped closer, his hand gently lifted her chin, their eyes met in the most beautiful moment of silence they had ever had since the day they met. But right when their lips were only a very short distance apart, the sound of a Squid dog barking fiercely rang out, signaling that a stranger was approaching the farm gate, pulling them both awake from that romantic moment, hastily stepping back, their hearts still racing due to both the disappointment and the sudden anxiety. Bach Son reflexively stood in front of Nha Khanh, his eyes immediately changed to a familiar look of alertness, heading towards the gate, where the darkness was obscuring a figure of a stranger who had just stopped his motorbike outside the fence, unclear whether the purpose of the visit at this unusually late hour was good or bad.