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(Baonghean) - More than twenty years ago, they got together, and many people praised her good fortune. A small businesswoman married a young man who had just graduated from the University of Hanoi with a degree in History. They met when he came to her stall to buy instant noodles. Seeing him admiring the packet of noodles, his eyes shining with longing, yet hesitant to put it down, she encouraged him: "Buy some, I'll sell it to you cheaply!" And that packet of noodles with its tangled strands bound them together. He came to her stall more often, of course not just to buy instant noodles...

Once they started dating, she asked him to take her to visit all her friends. Deep down, she wanted to share, to show off, the joy of being shyly by his side. Her family looked at him with two conflicting eyes, both fond of him and wary. "He's well-educated and handsome, and he's dating a shopkeeper?" Confused, she brought up her mother's concerns to him.

He said sternly, "There's no room for self-doubt in love, my dear." Ignoring their daughter's fluctuating emotions, her parents were delighted every time he visited. Her father could sit with his future son-in-law for hours, recalling distant memories and admiring the beauty of calligraphy and painting. "He just graduated from university and is working at the Center for Historical and Cultural Research," her father would proudly introduce him if anyone asked.

At those times, whether counting money in the bedroom or cooking in the kitchen, she would pause for a moment, seemingly to fully savor the sweet happiness. She knew her temporary civil servant was very poor when they first went to the park together. Finding the "weak point" of a lover, the street vendors swarmed around each park bench with their dimly lit trays laden with candy, sunflower seeds, and cigarettes. If they didn't buy at exorbitant prices, they would stand there watching what the couple did! After buying a second time, he shyly told her to go home. It started raining when they reached the parking lot. When paying for the raincoat, he frantically searched through his pockets, only to find out he was broke. Even that incident didn't diminish the love she felt for him.

Illustration: NP

"We're short of money!" That feeling lingered in the young couple's mind during their first few years living independently, after having children. She seemed to cover all the household expenses. Fortunately, her business continued to thrive. Gone were the days of her small stall selling sweets, incense, and condiments; now she owned a large fabric shop on the main street. With money, she eagerly sought out urban planning maps, listened to news about road construction, and then ventured into real estate. Money poured in. Having more money seemed to be an insatiable desire within her.

When he reached his tenth year in the profession, she said:

- How about you quit your job and help me out?

- Giving up a job you love to do something you know nothing about is unacceptable!

"Don't worry," she said, smiling, half-jokingly. "I'll pay you three times your researcher salary, okay?"

He sat silently, a crooked smile on his lips. After a firm shake of his head, he resumed his travels, then went to the library, poring over ancient texts and staying up late at night with his writing. The thicker his volumes of cultural and historical research grew, the thinner he became from cigarettes and strong tea. Sometimes she thought he was like a sleepwalker, absent-minded. When he saw a street named after a famous figure who had contributed to the development of this land but had long been forgotten, he was overjoyed. Back in Dong Tram village, seeing two persimmon trees planted by his ancestors four hundred years ago, he took pictures and showed them off to his friends as if they were family heirlooms. He exclaimed, as if he had lost millions of dollars, when he found an ancient cup but only half of it remained. His colleagues often came to visit, sometimes excitedly discussing a recently restored historical site, other times thoughtfully reflecting on how clever the young people are at computer skills and English, yet so clueless about their own country's history. "Why worry about such things?" she thought.

She vividly remembered the time he excitedly handed her the newspaper, boasting, "My latest discovery about the history of our hometown has been recognized!" She glanced through it, then stopped at his name at the end of the article: "How much did they pay?" "Probably a few hundred." Exactly the profit from selling a winter coat! She lost interest, indifferently put the newspaper down on the table, and went into the bedroom. He watched her go, bewildered.

Once, seeing her happy after a successful business deal, he timidly suggested, "Could you sponsor a small amount for me to publish a book?" The smile on her face faded, and she looked at him cautiously: "Will the profit be substantial?" "Publishing novels and comics is profitable. But research books usually don't make a profit, sometimes they even lose money. But it's so rewarding to share my knowledge with readers." She smiled, shaking her head: "I'm sorry, I can't take the risk!" He was saddened.

When her son was preparing for university, she told him he should pursue a degree in commerce or finance and accounting. She believed those were fields that would lead to better financial prospects later on. But he insisted on studying to become an educator. She thought, "That's fine, with government support, he can tutor later, so it won't be too bad." She asked, "Education, but which subjects do you plan to study?" "I'm registering for history and geography." Good heavens, who would take extra classes for those subjects? She snapped, "No, you have to study math or a foreign language!" The boy remained steadfast in his decision. His father came out of the room, pen in one hand, glasses in the other, and calmly said, "He knows his own abilities; let him choose." She thought, resentfully, "And he calls himself well-educated and knowledgeable – only when his head is full of knowledge but his pockets are empty and his stomach is rumbling will he finally see the light."

He fell ill. She urged him to see a doctor, but he kept putting it off. Only after going to the hospital and undergoing tests did she learn that his illness was severe and it was too late. “You must remain calm, the most important thing is not to tell him.” Every doctor advised that, but how could she remain calm when she was about to lose him? Each time she went to see him, she would stand at the hospital gate, cry for a long time, then drag herself away with a heart-wrenching pain. Never before had she felt so stressed, having to pretend to be in the face of her own suffering. Sometimes, unable to bear it any longer, she would run into the bathroom and sob uncontrollably; afraid he would hear, she would put a handkerchief to his mouth. Even though she forbade it, he still read and wrote. It wasn't until he was discharged from the hospital on a stretcher that he learned his illness was serious. “I won’t make it, don’t waste any more money, save it for our child.” She hugged him tightly, crying silently. Exactly half a month later, he passed away.

For her, those were endless days. She had no appetite, spending all day sitting before the altar, gazing at his blurred photograph amidst the incense smoke, tears welling up in her eyes. His friends came to visit, lit incense for the deceased, offered a few words of comfort, and then left. Suddenly, she missed the intimate conversations between him and his friends, which used to take place in this very living room. Even the postman who used to deliver complimentary newspapers whenever he had an article published was gone. Things she had previously overlooked now resurfaced, amplifying the emptiness in her heart. Trembling, she turned the pages of his diary:

"Today... She didn't come home again. The kitchen is so cold. So for two days now, my father and I have been eating only boxed meals. The food is delicious, but it's so hard to swallow!"

“It’s… Father’s death anniversary. I’m busy with business again. It’s only fifty kilometers away, but it’s been over a year since I’ve been back home. I bought all sorts of things to send back for the offerings, but you still feel like something’s missing. If only you knew how sad I feel every time Mom asks, ‘Why isn’t the boy’s mother back?’”

"Today... Another article was published in the industry journal. I'm happy. But I don't know who to share it with. My child is still young, and everything I do seems to be measured in money."

She was stunned. All her life she had struggled to earn money, hoping to provide for her loved ones. Now she realized that her wealth wasn't enough to fill the void in their hearts. And besides, she herself was still poor, though not lacking money, especially now that he was gone.

During those sad days, thankfully, she had her son by her side. He was doing an internship near home. Besides attending classes and observing lessons, he stayed home reading, writing, and preparing for his graduation thesis. Sometimes, when he couldn't find any reference materials, he would rack his brains, agonizing: "Dad knows this so well. Oh, if only..." Hearing that broke her heart, she encouraged him: "If you need to buy books or hire a tutor, I'll give you the money." His voice was sad: "I've searched all over the school library, looked online, and asked many people, but they all shook their heads. You can't buy everything with money, can you, Mom?"

She looked at her child, silently overwhelmed with grief, unable to utter a word…

Nguyen Trong Hoat

Da Nang