Chapter 15 — The Tea House at the End of the Street

On Friday morning, before Viet Khuong could leave for the plantation to visit his grandfather, an unexpected incident happened, pushing everything to the brink of irreversibility in the way he had feared the most.

Mr. Chieu Ba Nghi, as usual, stopped by the tea house early in the morning to drink his familiar cup of tea, but this time he brought a piece of paper with him, his face full of worry.

"Of course, look at this," he said, placing the paper on the table. It was an official letter, with the formal title: "Dong Xuan Group - Proposal for cooperation in purchasing business premises," sent to all households on Nguyet Tra Street, including Mr. Ba Nghi's bookstore.

"I also received a similar photo this morning," Nhien said, taking out an envelope from her drawer that she had received but had not yet opened. She felt uneasy when she saw the company logo printed on the corner of the envelope. She opened it and skimmed the contents — an offer to buy the entire tea house at a price described as "extremely generous, reflecting true market value and a willingness to cooperate long-term."

But what made Nhien dumbfounded was not the proposed number, but the signature line at the end of the letter: "Negotiation representative: Dong Viet Khuong, Regional Project Director, Dong Xuan Group."

She read that name over and over again, feeling like the ground beneath her feet was crumbling. Dong Viet Khuong. Same surname Dong as Dong Khai Vu, the man who betrayed her grandfather half a century ago. And it was also the name - Viet Khuong - the man she had devoted her heart to over the past few weeks, the man who sat by her side dozens of evenings, learned how to make tea, told her about his sincere feelings, the man who just texted her yesterday saying he had to go home to "solve family matters."

"Nhuan, what's wrong with you? Your face is pale," Mr. Ba Nghi asked, his voice worried when he saw Nhien sitting silently, his hands shaking holding a piece of paper.

"It's nothing, uncle," Nhien replied, her voice choked, trying to stay calm even though there was a fierce storm inside. "I... I need some time alone."

Mr. Ba Nghi looked at her with understanding eyes, did not ask further questions, just gently patted her shoulder and left, leaving Nhien alone in the tea room with the paper still on the table.

Less than ten minutes later, Thuy Duong rushed over, holding a similar letter - although her bakery was not on the list of premises directly targeted, the news spread quickly throughout the small street in just the morning.

"Nhuan, have you seen the signature at the bottom of the letter?" Thuy Duong asked, her voice full of indignation. "Dong Viet Khuong! Oh my god, is that the guy who used to come to your tea room every night? I told you before, you have to be careful with people from that company!"

Nhien did not answer, just sat silently, still clutching the purchase proposal paper tightly. Thuy Duong looked at her friend's pale face and immediately realized that things were worse than she thought. She quickly sat down next to her and hugged Nhien's shoulders.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice softening. "Sorry, I shouldn't say such harsh words right now."

"It's okay," Nhien replied, her voice lifeless. "You're right. I was stupidly trusting."

"You're not stupid," Thuy Duong squeezed her friend's hand. "You're just believing what you feel is true, it's not your fault. The fault is with the person who chose to hide it."

Nhat Vy had just arrived at her morning shift, vaguely heard the story, stood silently at the door with an equally shocked expression, the textbook still in her hand before she could put it down. "Sister Nhien... so Mr. Khuong did it..." The girl didn't dare finish her sentence, just quietly walked over, sat down next to Nhien, didn't say anything else, just let her presence be a small support in this stormy morning.

She sat there for a long time, her mind frantically piecing together each piece of memory - the first evening he entered the tea room, his eyes when she told the story of her grandfather and Dong Khai Vu, the unusual haste every time a call came in, the unfinished sentence "There is something I need to tell you" that he could not finish before hastily leaving. Everything has now come together into a complete picture, a picture that she never wanted to see.

He knew. He had known from the beginning, or at least had known for a while, that his family's company was targeting her tea house, that it was his grandfather who had caused her family's half-century of pain. Yet he continued to sit there, drink tea, talk, hold her hand in close moments, let her trust, let her open her heart, while still keeping such a great truth hidden.

Nhien felt a surge of anger, mixed with the extreme pain of betrayal. She didn't know which was more painful — the fact that her teahouse was at risk of being taken over by the family company that had betrayed her grandfather, or the fact that the man she had begun to love was the descendant of that traitor, and had been silent for so long.

She took out her phone, hands shaking, searched for Viet Khuong's number, then stopped again. She didn't want to talk about this over the phone. She needed to look him straight in the eyes when she asked the question that was tormenting her mind.

At that moment, her phone vibrated — a text message from Viet Khuong herself: "I'm on my way to the plantation to visit my grandfather. I'll be back tonight or tomorrow, let's talk. There's something important I need to tell you."

Looking at that line, a bitter laugh burst out of her throat, not because it was funny, but because of the bitter irony of the situation. She quickly typed an answer, her fingers shaking with anger: "I also just received a very interesting letter from Dong Xuan Group this morning. Signed Dong Viet Khuong. You don't need to come home early to 'tell me' anymore, I already know enough."

She turned off her phone immediately after sending the message, not wanting to see a response, not wanting to hear any more explanations right now. She stood up, walked to her grandfather's altar, looked up at his photo, tears began to roll down her cheeks.

"Grandpa," she whispered, her voice choked. "I'm sorry. I let my heart be moved by the descendants of the person who made you suffer all your life. I was so stupid."

She sat down on the floor, covered her face and sobbed. The tears that had accumulated from many days of anxiety and fatigue were now flowing out and could no longer be contained. The tea room, which had always been the most peaceful place in her heart, now suddenly became strange and cold, as if that space itself was betraying her in some way.

Outside, the morning sunlight still shines brightly on Nguyet Tra street, the sound of birds chirping in the old crocodile trees, completely contrasts with the storm that is ravaging the heart of the young woman sitting alone crying in the old house.

Thuy Duong and Nhat Vy stayed by her side all that morning, not saying much, just quietly making her a pot of hot tea - clumsy, not up to standards like Nhien's usual way, but warm enough to somewhat soothe the pain rolling in her heart. Nhat Vy sat next to him, held Nhien's hand, and said in a soft voice: "Don't blame yourself. You just believe in the good person you saw in him, no one could have foreseen this."

"But is that person real, or is it just a cover to easily access my tea room?" Nhien asked, her voice full of bitterness, the question wasn't really for anyone, just a sigh coming out of unresolved pain.

Thuy Duong squeezed her friend's hand, there was no answer to reassure her, she could only stay by her side in this moment. "No matter what, you're not alone, Nhien. There's me, there's Nhat Vy, there's Uncle Nghi, there's even this street. We'll find a way together."

At noon, when the two friends had to return to take care of their own business, Nhien sat alone and turned her phone back on after a long time of turning it off. There were three missed calls from Viet Khuong, and one last text message he sent before presumably getting in the car and leaving the coverage area: "Sorry Nhien. I know it was wrong of me to stay silent for so long. But please give me a chance to explain, when I return. There are things that are more complicated than you think."

She looked at that message for a long time, her finger hovering over the screen but not typing a word. She is not ready to forgive, nor is she ready to completely close that door. She just turned off the phone screen, placed it face down on the table, then stood up and began her afternoon cleaning job as a way to keep her hands and mind from completely collapsing from what had just happened. The journey ahead, now, is not only a battle to keep the tea house from a large corporation, but also a battle to keep her own heart from being completely broken, before she can understand that, sometimes, the most painful truth is the necessary beginning for a reconciliation that she never dared to dream of.