Chapter 11 — Unique Scent

He stopped for a moment. “When she wasn't here, I never let anyone near me.” His friend was stunned, then burst out laughing. Boy, this life is like falling into the hands of one person." Co Dien did not respond, he continued to look out the window. Tham Niem just stood up, waved at him from the glass door, holding a handful of freshly cut white gardenia flowers in her hand. Through the thick glass, he couldn't smell anything, but he knew that scent clearly. It's something that took him many years to confirm — It's not the scent of gardenias. Nor is it the summer afternoon wind. It's you. There's only you. Co Dien stood up, pushed the door open and walked out into the yard.

“What's wrong?” Tham Niem looked up at him.

“What's the point of picking so many gardenia flowers?”

“Put it in your office. Don't you like this smell?

“What I like is not gardenia.”

“So what is it?”

Co Dien bowed his head and gently kissed the tip of her nose.

“You.”

Tham Niem smiled. Suddenly remembering something, she pulled his hand back. Turn your palm over. She placed her index finger in his palm, neatly writing stroke by stroke. Co Dien lowered his head to look. Her fingertips brushed over every line of his hand. After writing the last stroke, she raised her face.

“Guess what.”

Co Dien looked at his palm. Then slowly clench your fingers, holding tightly to the invisible word that was just written on it. Also hold her fingers tightly. He laughed. A very small, very low smile. Like the snowflakes of Christmas Eve many years ago. He bowed his head under the Pipa tree, putting his lips close to her ear.

“I know.”

Tham Niem raised his eyes: "Then tell me."

“Don't say.”

“Why not?”

“If you say it out loud, you will lose your spirit.”

His voice was very soft, as soft as a gardenia branch falling to the surface of the water. Dusk gradually falls, the shadow of the Pipa tree lengthens. In the yard, there were only the two of them left, and the scent of gardenia flowers filled the air. Tham Niem looked at his clenched hand, the corner of her mouth slowly curled up. She didn't ask any more. Some words, left unsaid, weigh a thousand pounds more than uttering them. There are some people who, once they hold hands, never need to let go again. She lifted his hand and pressed it to her cheek. The back of his hand was a bit cold, but his palm was extremely warm. She closed her eyes, smelling the faint pine scent at his fingertips. From the first day we met, this scent has never changed.

“Co Dien.”

“Um.”

“The word you just wrote, I really guessed it.”

He didn't answer, just turned his hand over, lacing five fingers between her fingers, ten fingers tightly intertwined. Then bowed his head and looked deeply into her eyes.

“What do you think?”

Three words. Very light. But his eyes said it all. Tham Niem smiled, stood on tiptoe and kissed the corner of his lips, then stepped back, resting her forehead against his chin. Gardenia flowers sway gently in the afternoon breeze. The leaves of the Pipa tree rustle. In the distance, the sound of birds calling the flock back to their nests was heard. The yard is extremely quiet. He and she stood in the middle of that silence, like two trees, their roots tightly wrapped around each other deep under the mud. She suddenly remembered many years ago, on that September day, she fell over in the gym. At that time, she did not know that that fall would fall directly into the whole life of such a man. She looked up at him. He still has the look In that expression, there was a bit of coldness between the eyebrows, but the look in her eyes was forever different. Different from day one.

“Let's go.” Co Dien squeezed her hand.

“Where to?”

"Cook rice. Didn't you say you wanted to eat braised pork?"

“Can you eat what you do?”

“Try it and see!”

He pulled her into the house. Tham Niem turned his head and looked back at the yard again. Gardenia flowers are still fluttering in the wind. The leaves of the Pipa tree rustle. She turned her head and squeezed his hand.