On the other side of Summer
I woke up and realized I was back home, the sun high in the sky shining through the window. I slept very well last night, despite the time difference. It had been ten years since I got married and moved to America with my husband, and this was the first time I'd slept so soundly...
Short stories by Le HangJuly 29, 2026
*****
I woke up and knew I was back home, the sun high in the sky shining through the window. I slept very well last night, despite the time difference. It had been ten years since I'd slept so soundly after getting married and moving to America with my husband. It was already June, and the weather in Central Vietnam was incredibly hot, but I didn't feel uncomfortable at all; on the contrary, I even liked it. That feeling of being drenched in sweat was so familiar. I remembered my school days. Last night I dreamed I was running through a summer ablaze with the color of flamboyant flowers, and I even met someone again. The person who had picked a bunch of flowers for me, a feeling that lingered throughout that summer. And all the summers that followed. The dried flamboyant petals have now decayed in my school notebooks; time has taken many things from me, but that first stirring feeling of love still silently returns intact in my dreams. When will I stop dreaming like that? At 40? 50? Or when I'm old? Now that I've crossed the threshold of 30, I still seem stuck in those old summers, feeling a sense of longing every May.
"Sister Trang! Can you sleep well tonight? You're probably not used to the time difference. And it's hot too. This is the peak of the hot season..."
Little Ti rushed in like a gust of wind. She's still the same, after all these years, always chattering and chirping like a little bird whenever we meet. Back then, I even gave her the nickname "Chích Bông" (Little Sparrow), and she used that nickname to make friends everywhere when Yahoo was still active.
"Everything was so beautiful and fun back then, wasn't it, sister!"
"YES".
His voice softened. Why bring it up so casually, making me feel nostalgic and regretful? It's strange, but whenever I talk to him, I always tell him stories from the old days. Little Ti was three grades behind me, but she was closer to me than any other friend; she's a big part of my youthful school memories. She and another person, someone who always stood between us. Back then, we were a perfect trio. At school, we'd chatter endlessly about school and class, and during summer vacation, we'd call each other every few days to cook sweet soups and bake cakes, sharing coconuts or jackfruit. Of the three of us, she was the youngest, but the most resourceful. Youth is full of dreams, but there's one thing left unfinished that I deeply regret now.
The summer Bé Ti went to university, we planned a cross-Vietnam train trip together to watch the sunrise and sunset through the train windows. We named that trip "The Train of Youth," but in the end, I withdrew. Bé Ti's idea was hers; she considered it her biggest dream. The decision to withdraw was mine alone, however, neither of us ever went on that "train of youth" that year. We have so many stories that we laugh out loud when we tell them, but the story of that trip is a silent one. No one talks about it, but the feeling of emptiness and disappointment still lingers in my breath whenever I recall it. Bé Ti doesn't know why I felt that way, but she's never asked.
It seems I suffer from a common ailment among the elderly, constantly recounting the same story over and over. I tell it as if I have a compulsion to do so, as if I can't bear not to. And every time I finish telling it, I feel regret. The past is the past; we are no longer the people we were back then.
"I didn't think you'd actually keep your promise from back then and come back," little Ti said, handing me the pink invitation. "I told you that day I was just joking. It's so far away."
I laughed. When I told Bé Ti I was going to marry an overseas Vietnamese man and go to America, she cried. I laughed at her crying; why cry? Everyone has to get married eventually. I promised that when it was her turn, I would come back, give her a gold ring as a wedding gift, and accompany her to the wedding. At that moment, my nose stung, so I had to laugh loudly so she wouldn't know. It was just as scorching hot then as it is today. She had just finished defending her graduation thesis, so she invited me to eat sweet soup at a shop overlooking a small river flowing through the village, the orange-red sunset reflecting on the shimmering water. Her eyes were also red and glistening with tears.
"Sister, then… are you happy? You must be happy…"
I sat still, my eyes wandering. It was so awkward; how could she even ask such a tactless question? Of all the things to tell me, she had to tell me to be happy. Is happiness something you can just have whenever you want? If it were that easy, why bother telling me? Of course I want to be happy. She thinks I chose someone through an arranged marriage to go to America because my family was having difficulties, and that's why she's been so sad for me. It's true my family was going through some trouble at the time, but that's only part of the reason. Suddenly, I want her to ask me that question again, "Are you happy?"
"Oh, did you know? Mr. Tan also came here, he just came from Saigon."
I softly murmured "yes." Tan was the person I'd met in my dreams, the one who'd given me a bouquet of flowers that year, the figure I'd embraced throughout my youth, and the one who literally stood between me and him whenever the three of us took pictures. Attending his wedding was normal for me, but Tan… I didn't think he'd come. Seeing the girl he'd secretly loved his whole youth marry someone else, how could he not be heartbroken? He could have chosen not to attend, couldn't he? We hadn't spoken for years, but I knew he still held onto that feeling, evidenced by the small signature of a sparrow in the top left corner of all his profile pictures. Little Ti might not know these things, but I knew him all too well.
"I'll treat you two to some sweet soup sometime. It's so hot and I'm really craving O Suong's sweet soup, sister."
"YES".
"I'm going home, sister, I still have a few more cards to deliver."
"Wait a minute."
I kept it to myself, all the emotions inside making me tense like a balloon that had been inflated to its limit; its carefree attitude was my final limit.
"Do you love your fiancé?"
Ti seemed shocked by my question. She froze for a moment before sitting down.
"Why are you asking me that?" it asked, looking straight at me.
"Sister, you're not happy. This time when you go back to America, you'll probably get a divorce."
"Divorce? Why... why... are you getting divorced? What happened? Tell me."
"It's nothing. Just unhappy. I've never been happy, you know that, it's just that I don't want to live like this anymore..."
"Uncle, do you know yet, sister?"
"Not yet, my mother isn't used to these things. But I've made up my mind. She'll get used to it eventually..."
Ti, who had been so excited and boisterous when she arrived, was surprisingly quiet and reserved when she left. I advised her to think carefully, not to make the same mistake I did, not to marry without love. For over a decade, I've paid the price for a youthful mistake. Now she's not officially married, she doesn't have children yet, she can absolutely choose a different path in life. I came back for her wedding, and yet I'm giving her this advice—have I caused a terrible disaster? I understand her well; I know what I'm saying will upset her, but if I don't say it, I'll carry this debt of my youth forever. There's something I've kept secret for over a decade; I don't know how blameworthy I am, but I can't forgive myself.
I arranged to meet Bé Ti and Tấn for some sweet soup. I flew halfway around the world to get here; it's been over ten years since we last met. Why not spend an afternoon together? I said that when he seemed reluctant to come. The hotter the sun, the more enchanting the sunset. The Vietnamese sky only makes me more nostalgic. I miss those summers of my youth, a time when I was both naive and beginning to think about things, to hide my emotions, and to fear losing something, however vague…
We sat together, knowing that time had passed and left its mark on each of our faces. Between us, there were countless memories, but now there would be just as many regrets. And I regretted it too. No one blamed me, but I blamed myself. We used to be as close as a perfect trio, our childhood so beautiful and innocent, but everyone grows up, and it seems there's no such thing as a pure friendship between a boy and a girl. I couldn't stop myself from falling for him, nor could I stop him from falling for Bé Ti, the girl next door. I'm not at fault in any of this, and I've never regretted liking him. What I regret is what happened afterward, when I learned that Bé Ti also looked at him differently. She also liked the boy I had a crush on. And he had liked her for a long time but lacked the courage to express it. We stayed in that silence for a long time, pretending to still be a perfect trio, carefree and happy. I wanted to cling to our innocent days; I couldn't bear the feeling, the feeling that one day there would be secrets, letters, dates between them… And that I wouldn't be the girl in his heart, that I would be marginalized, forever standing on the sidelines of his life. For me, that was a loss beyond endurance. Everyone has a naive phase; back then, I considered our friendship everything. If Tấn and I couldn't find a different answer, then he and Bé Ti certainly couldn't either.
I canceled the "Journey of Youth" because I knew that once we started, there was no stopping; we had to reach the final station. I saw what awaited us ahead, so I decided not to go. If I withdrew, the journey would be canceled. At that point, the feelings between the two of us were already so clear; just a little more time together would reveal our true feelings for each other. I had imagined a thousand and one scenarios that could expose the secret between the two of us. And I successfully prevented it. I even knew how to steer the conversation in a different direction, making them both believe that there could be no other answer between them than friendship. They buried their feelings deep inside, and I left. I got married and was unhappy.
I did everything because I was the person Tan and Be Ti trusted the most. I gave myself the right to be a victim and to be hurt by things no one else did, things I brought upon myself. Even now, when I tell everything, it's only for myself. I can't bear this debt of my youth any longer. I know I'm selfish. I know I don't deserve forgiveness. I know I've wronged him, wronged Be Ti, who treated me like her older sister, and wronged our friendship. I wonder if this shock will change my friend's life? As for me, it will.
I walked away, then looked back. On the other side of the river, the old flame tree was laden with clusters of flowers "as crimson as the blood of a heart," leaning down towards the water's surface. I wiped away my tears. Farewell to a summer.
