Chapter 18: Chapter 18 Mrs. Tám fell ill — Where the Sun Returns

For several weeks after the flood, Ms. Tám silently worked more than usual without complaining to anyone. In addition to taking care of food for Miên and Phong, she also worked hard in the garden to pick grass, collect firewood, and even hid from Miên herself, carrying small bags of humus to fertilize the newly sown vegetable beds, just because she saw that the two children were too busy rebuilding the farm and preparing to deal with the coming stranger.

Miên discovered this one afternoon, when she happened to see her grandmother sitting on the porch panting, clutching her chest, sweating profusely even though the weather was not very hot.

"Grandma! What's wrong?" Miên panicked and ran to help her.

"It's okay, it's okay," Mrs. Tám waved her hand, trying to give a forced smile. "I'm just a little tired, let me rest for a while and I'll feel better soon."

But just a few minutes later, Ms. Tám suddenly staggered, her eyes rolled back and she collapsed on the cement floor. Miên screamed loudly, hugged her tightly, and called Phong who was working in the garden to come in.

Phong rushed forward and quickly checked Ms. Tám's pulse and breathing. His face turned pale. "Her blood pressure has suddenly increased, she must be taken to the hospital immediately, there can be no delay!"

Not having time to call an ambulance because the commune health station was too far away and lacked equipment, Phong carried Ms. Tám onto the old motorbike, Miên sat behind her and hugged her tightly to maintain balance. The three rushed away in the dark on the winding mountain road to the district hospital, nearly thirty kilometers away.

All the way, Miên hugged her grandmother's thin back, her tears flowed endlessly, her mouth continuously whispering incoherent prayers. She remembered everything her grandmother had sacrificed for her: from the warm phone call that year pulled her out of the abyss of despair, to the red book that she did not hesitate to mortgage so that she and Phong could have capital to do business. If something happened to her grandmother, she would never forgive herself for being so engrossed in the farm that she didn't notice how much her grandmother was silently trying.

At the district hospital, after many hours of stressful emergency treatment, the doctor announced that Ms. Tám had a mild stroke due to a sudden increase in blood pressure combined with prolonged exhaustion. Luckily, she was brought there in time so there were no sequelae of paralysis, but she needed to stay in the hospital for at least a week of observation, and then long-term treatment and nutrition to fully recover.

Miên sat down in the hospital hallway, her whole body exhausted after a panic attack. Phong sat next to her, silently holding her trembling hand, transmitting a bit of steady warmth.

"The doctor said it's okay, Miên," Phong said softly. "Grandma will get better soon."

"It's all my fault," Miên choked, her voice cracking. "I was so busy dealing with corporate matters and loans, I didn't notice how much heavy work my grandmother was silently shouldering. She was already old, but I..."

"It's not your fault," Phong interrupted, his voice determined. "We have to hide our fatigue because of foreign trade. This is a common mistake. We need to be more careful and considerate of each other from now on."

The first night at the hospital, Miên and Phong took turns staying at the bedside, neither of them could sleep for even a minute. The steady whirring sound of the heart rate monitor in the hospital room became the only sound that anchored Miên's mind from falling into panic. She sat beside the bed, holding her grandmother's thin, calloused hand, recalling so many childhood memories: the summer afternoons when her grandmother lulled her to sleep with highland songs, the times when she struggled to cook a pot of porridge to relieve her cold when she was sick. Now, looking at her grandmother lying motionless on the hospital bed with wires tangled around her body, she understands the fear of possibly losing the most beloved person in her life.

At dawn, Mrs. Tám opened her eyes slightly, her voice was weak but still tried to reassure her grandchild whose eyes were red from crying. "Don't worry too much about Grandma, she's just old and her health isn't what it used to be. You and Phong should take care of your health, don't neglect garden work because of Grandma."

"Grandma, don't say that," Miên choked, squeezing her hand tightly. "Nothing is more important than your health. The farm can wait, but I cannot wait for you."

Mrs. Tám smiled weakly, her eyes gently looked at her granddaughter, then slowly fell asleep thanks to the effect of the sedative. Miên sat quietly looking at her grandmother's wrinkled but peaceful face, silently promising to do everything she could to let her grandmother live her remaining years in peace, without having to worry about anything anymore.

Three days later, when Ms. Tám was more alert and able to talk, the first advance hospital bill was sent, making Miên startled: nearly forty million VND for the days of active monitoring, not including the cost of medicine and upcoming follow-up visits.

This is not a small number, especially in the context that Trại Mộc both suffered heavy losses after the flood and was also denied a reinvestment loan by the bank. Miên sat in front of the cashier counter, her trembling hands counting the little cash left in her wallet, her heart aching at the financial burden that was constantly piling up.

That night, when Phong stayed at the hospital to look after Mrs. Tám so Miên could go home to shower and take care of a few things, she sat alone in the quiet house, reopening Mr. Dat's business card that she had kept in her bag for the past few weeks. Her eyes were glued to the gilded words "Việt Xanh Group", the flashy welfare numbers once again appeared in her mind, this time accompanied by a new weight: her grandmother's hospital bills, reinvestment debt, and the uncertain future of the entire farm.

She called Phong and recounted the worries that were tearing her heart. "Mr. Phong, maybe... let's try to hear what Việt Xanh's proposal is first. Maybe they just want to cooperate in purchasing agricultural products, not necessarily touching our land." The other end of the line was silent for a long time before Phong spoke, his voice becoming unusually serious. "Miên, I understand that the current financial pressure is huge. But I don't believe that such a large real estate corporation is naturally interested in a small farm just to buy a few tons of vegetables. They target the land, that's for sure. I don't want us to rush into opening the door to something that can destroy everything we have built because of the difficulties ahead."

"So what do you want me to do? Leave my grandmother in the hospital without knowing where to get the money to pay the debt?" Miên's voice suddenly rose, the pent-up tension that had been pent up for so long burst out into harsher words than she expected.

"I didn't say that," Phong replied, his voice also somewhat firmer. "I'm just trying to protect what we've spent our sweat, tears, and even blood to build. Money can be managed in many other ways, but land and people's trust, once lost, cannot be regained."

The call ended in a heavy silence unprecedented between the two since the day they became each other's shareholders. Miên sat absent-mindedly in the dark, still clutching the business card, her heart confused between two options: absolute trust in Phong's principles, or finding a more pragmatic way out of the financial burden that was weighing on the whole family.

This is the first time, since the day they held hands in the afternoon sunlight and announced they became shareholders of Mộc Farm, a small crack has silently appeared between two hearts that were once absolutely in sync.

Miên put the phone down on the table, hugged her head with both hands, a feeling of helplessness rising up her throat. She understood that what Phong said was not wrong, but correctness of principle was sometimes too expensive in the face of a hanging hospital bill and a grandmother lying in a hospital bed. She looked around the simple wooden house, her eyes stopped at the corner of the old cabinet where her grandmother still kept her grandfather's memorabilia, her heart ached between two calls: one was the pure ideal that she and Phong had built together, the other was the practical responsibility of a grandchild for the health of the grandmother who sacrificed her life for her.

She reopened the message from Ms. Hà's assistant, her finger hesitated on the screen for a long time. Finally, even though her heart was still confused, she typed a short reply: "I agree to meet to hear more about the cooperation proposal. Please arrange a specific date." She sent the message, then sat blankly looking at the screen for a long time, telling herself that this was just a meeting to listen to information, not a betrayal of what she and Phong had built together. But deep inside, she knew that this decision, if Phong knew, would definitely not be simply a harmless conversation.