Rebirth
Sitting in the waiting area outside the clinic, she looked out and saw the sky was overcast with gray clouds. Perhaps, in just a moment, raindrops would begin to fall, dispelling the oppressive heat, even though it was already summer. Never before had the summer weather been so hot and humid. Around this time last year, the city was already deep into the rainy season. There were days when she woke up to the sound of rain; she loved that moment, curling up in her blanket and lingering to listen to the rain.
Short stories byLa Thi Anh HuongJuly 18, 2026
Sitting in the waiting area outside the clinic, she looked out and saw the sky was overcast with gray clouds. Perhaps, in just a moment, raindrops would begin to fall, dispelling the oppressive heat, even though it was already summer. Never before had the summer weather been so hot and humid. Around this time last year, the city was already deep into the rainy season. There were days when she woke up to the sound of rain; she loved that moment, curling up in her blanket and lingering to listen to the rain.
For some reason, she had the feeling that the early morning rain would slow down the pace of life, making the crowds on the streets loosen up, and that thought made her feel more at ease. Around this time last year, the rows of brown flowers in front of the Rach Mieu area drooped silently, waiting for the wind to come and release their petals, a mesmerizing dance of flowers that captivated many eyes.
Around this time last year, she was so excited because the old sapodilla tree in the park she walked past every morning would be in bloom. Perhaps no one else was excited about sapodilla blossoms except her. Every time she passed by the blossoms, she slowed her pace just to inhale the delicate fragrance from the clusters of flowers nestled among the leaves high above. She was also excited because after the flowering season, the tree would bear abundant fruit, which a few days later grew large, plump, and golden yellow, falling onto the grass. She used to receive those ripe fruits with the childlike joy of receiving a gift; it seemed that autumn had arrived then.
"This time last year," she murmured to herself, trying to remember what she was doing, where she was, but certainly not in a hospital waiting room like today. Everything is impermanent; today it's one way, tomorrow it's another.
"An Nhien!" – she jumped up when she heard the nurse call her name. "Why are you so late in coming to the doctor when you're sick? Hurry, do some more blood tests and then see the doctor." She had already guessed this next step, because it wasn't the first time.
Yesterday, at the hospital near her home, they told her to do a series of additional tests. The results came in the afternoon. By then, she was exhausted, hoping, as usual, that the doctor would say, "All the indicators are normal!", and then she could return to her warm room and sleep soundly. But in life, things don't always go as planned. The doctor looked at the results, pondered for a long time, then turned to her and asked with concern, "Are you still in a lot of pain?" She was suddenly touched. Was she still in a lot of pain? She didn't know, she just felt tired and wanted to lie down. The doctor paused for a long time at the ultrasound results, then said to her, "You should be transferred to another hospital! A higher-level hospital will provide better support for you!"
And she was there, sitting and watching the gray sky before it turned into heavy rain. It took almost two hours for her name to be called, but she didn't complain because the people waiting in the same row as her had all come from very far away. And today she was getting used to the next step: blood tests, color ultrasound, MRI scan…
In the chilly MRI room, the tall, imposing doctor led her from one room to another, explaining the procedures before she entered the scanning room. She closed her eyes tightly. Before pushing her inside, a warm, deep voice calmed her anxieties: "Just lie still and follow the instructions; we'll take care of everything!"
More than half an hour later, she came out, slightly unsteady on her feet. A strong arm helped her walk, accompanied by the instruction: "The results will be sent to the doctor's consultation room tomorrow morning. Just come during office hours."
She glanced at the clock; it was past 4 p.m. Outside, a rainstorm was brewing. If it weren't for these circumstances, she would have been overjoyed, for the rain would have awakened her rooftop garden. It was strange; nothing, neither water nor fertilizer, could bring them to life like the raindrops. But at this moment, her mind was in turmoil, and she couldn't think about the plants anymore. Was the MRI result the end of her life?
Sitting in a taxi amidst the afternoon rain, she wondered if life were to end, what regrets would she have? She had lived through 38 springs, springs when her parents were still alive, not joyful but not as unsettling as when they left her. There were springs when she didn't visit her parents' graves, but instead slept soundly in her room amidst the bustling streets celebrating the arrival of spring. Only in the last few years, precisely since meeting Quyen, had she and he enthusiastically prepared for a fulfilling spring, with flowers, traditional food, and spring excursions…
Quyen only returned home a few times a year, leaving her with bright plans for the future. She trusted Quyen. Lying beside him at night, she thought of children's voices. Both she and Quyen silently waited, and then both silently realized that not everything they wanted would come true. The lesson of navigating adulthood was to get used to things not going as planned. She had learned that, but this time it was different.
To be honest, there were many times when life's hardships pushed her into a negative state, and she thought, "Living is hard, but dying is easy!" It turns out that all thoughts, words, and judgments are superficial when one hasn't experienced them firsthand. She wants to live. Even though life can be monotonous at times, and she's been sick so many times she's lost her sense of self, everything eventually passes. She wants to welcome beautiful springs with Quyen in the future, or simply to be able to wake up every morning, to be busy with the daily grind of earning a living like so many others… That's all!
***
In the morning, she arrived very early but already saw her husband's file overflowing in a square plastic basket. The nurses were busy preparing for the day's work. Just a few minutes later, the waiting area outside the consultation room was full. This was the final step to hear the doctor's results and the treatment plan they would offer for each patient's condition. She had stayed up all night. That same night, Quyen had video called her, saying he would return on the earliest flight and that she shouldn't worry. "What about work?" she blurted out. Quyen answered decisively, "I'm doing everything for our future, but to reach that future, we need good health first. I believe you'll be alright!"
It was past 7 o'clock. Work at the clinic began with the loudspeaker calling out the names of the first people to submit their medical records. She heard the sobbing of the girl sitting next to her. She looked over; it was a very young girl. She cried, then answered a phone call, then cried again. During a phone call on speakerphone, she heard a young woman's voice on the other end, telling her not to trust the results from this hospital, to get checked elsewhere, and then listing other reputable hospitals. Just then, a doctor walked by, and the girl hung up the phone.
But after a moment, her phone rang again. This time, she didn't answer it, but turned to her, holding out a stack of medical records, her voice hoarse: "Sister, please take a look at these results for me. Is it still possible? My two children are still so young."
She looked directly at the words the girl was pointing to. The terminal illness hung like a death sentence before her, so obvious; what comfort could she possibly offer?
“I noticed my stomach was bulging, but I thought it was just from sitting too much and eating too much, not from a tumor. Because I sell vegetables, I sit all day. And do you know where I sell vegetables? Right at the hospital gate, yet I couldn’t spare a few minutes to go in for an examination and ultrasound,” she said, as if making a belated confession to herself.
Only then did she notice the girl's gnarled hands and dirty fingernails. There was something so familiar about this figure, this voice, this situation. So many women, once married and with children, no longer have time for themselves. The girl's voice continued to whisper, "I still have elderly parents; if something happens to me, how will they survive, sister? And what's wrong with you? Is it dangerous?" Before she could say anything, she heard the nurse call her name.
In the consultation room, which resembled a small examination room, the voice of a very young male doctor could be heard:
"Congratulations. Although there's a small percentage chance your tumor is malignant, we're still considering it benign."
She breathed a sigh of relief. But her joy was short-lived.
"However..." the doctor hesitated. "Have you had enough children yet?"
She shook her head, her heart suddenly tightening. The doctor explained her medical history and proposed surgery. It was the best option for her life, but it was also the choice that would force her to give up her dream of motherhood forever. The sound of children's giggles in her dreams with Quyen suddenly vanished.
She asked the doctor for permission to go outside to call Quyen. In the hallway, she had to walk quite a distance to avoid the noise, the crying, and the nurses calling out patients' names all mixed together. She dialed the number, her hands trembling. Tears streamed down her face onto the touchscreen.
Quyền answered the phone very quickly, but the voice wasn't coming from the tiny speaker; it rang right next to her ear. She looked up, her vision blurring as she saw Quyền standing before her in flesh and blood. His clothes were still dusty from the road, and his hastily rolled suitcase was tucked into a corner of the hallway.
"I'm here. Didn't I tell you not to worry, that I'd be by your side?"
His arms wrapped around her, warm and secure. She buried her head in his chest, sobbing like a child, releasing all the pent-up emotions and fears of the past few days. Quyen tightened his embrace, gently kissed her hair, and whispered, "It's alright. All we need is for you to be safe; nothing else matters."
As she left the consultation room, she saw the vegetable vendor from earlier still weeping, her face buried in her hands. Her fate seemed a far darker path than her own. She paused for a moment, gathered all the cash she had, and pressed it into the woman's gnarled hands. She said nothing, only gently squeezed the woman's shoulder as a silent prayer, then walked away with Quyen.
A sudden downpour began. Cool summer raindrops pattered rhythmically on the streets. She held out her hand to catch the raindrops from the sky, feeling as if all the gloom and suppressed emotions she had harbored for so long were being washed away by the water. Watching the trees along the road shake off their dust and burst with new life after the rain, she understood that she had been reborn.
