Short story: Facing each other

Illustration: Vu Thuy

The streetlights have come on.

Hoang hurried home. Since the accident, he hadn't had a single peaceful day on the road. It was like a ghost haunting him.

It was dusk that day, and Hoang was driving his newly purchased Mazda away from work. His house was in a suburban district, so it took him quite a while to get there, especially during rush hour. After some maneuvering, Hoang finally managed to get out of the city. On a relatively deserted stretch of road, a motorbike suddenly swerved into his lane, forcing him to make a quick right turn. A scream rang out. Looking in his rearview mirror, Hoang vaguely realized he had just grazed a man on a bicycle going in the same direction. In a panic, as if possessed by a demon, Hoang slammed on the gas and sped off.

When he got home, Hoang kept thinking about the man on the bicycle. Was he alright? Because it was dark, and looking in the rearview mirror, Hoang only saw the bicycle fall over onto the roadside after the man screamed, and then everything went dark again. But that image kept replaying in Hoang's mind like a black and white film. That evening at dinner, Hoang's father said:

- Is something wrong at work, son?

Hoang shook his head:

- No, Dad.

- Did you have another argument with your girlfriend?

- Oh no, that's not true, Dad. Vy and I are fine.

Mr. Huy urged his wife to serve Hoang more rice, but Hoang had already put down his chopsticks. He went back into his room and lay silently in the darkness. Then, as if unable to bear the thoughts and anxieties overwhelming him, he called Vy to confide everything that had just happened. Vy's voice rang out through the phone, which was on speakerphone:

- Maybe tomorrow you should go back to that road and ask the locals around to see what's going on? If he has any problems, we can turn ourselves in.

- Hmm... I'll see how things go tomorrow.

The next morning, on his way to work, Hoang walked slowly along that stretch of road to examine the scene, but everything seemed as if nothing had happened. There were no houses along the road, so he didn't know who to ask for directions. Every day, Hoang had to pass that same road. Everything was still the same, as if the accident had never happened, but his mind was no longer as cheerful as before.

One day, Hoang discovered a note in his car, on the back seat, that read: "Take responsibility for your actions!" He was utterly shocked. It took him a moment to compose himself, and he looked around but saw no one. He had used the car to drop off a friend for drinks yesterday afternoon and then driven straight home. He picked it up this morning to go to work and found the note.

The whole day dragged on slowly. No matter how hard he thought, Hoang couldn't figure out who had done this. Only Vy knew about the accident. Vy couldn't possibly do this to him. He hadn't seen Vy since yesterday either.

Strange things continued to happen. About a week later, a note appeared in the car that read, "You need to face the truth, don't be afraid." Then came sleepless nights for Hoang. He tossed and turned all night thinking about everything. He even wondered if he had a delusional disorder, like his father. According to the doctor, this condition is also hereditary. The notes were torn up immediately after he received them. Hoang wished he hadn't torn them up, at least so he could have pulled them out as evidence when he doubted himself. One day, unable to bear it any longer, he told Vy everything.

- I think you should discuss it with your parents. Then go to the scene of the accident, tell the police everything. At least that will help resolve your psychological issues.

He can't tell his parents.

- Why?

- My father is suffering from mental illness in his old age. He has paranoia, is suspicious of everyone, and worries about everything. He's been getting some relief with medication lately, but I don't want him to worry any more.

Day after day passed. Hoang wished he could go back to that evening, he wished he had gotten out of the car and gone back to help the man up. Or at least, if anything had happened to him, he could have taken responsibility. He believed that the punishment he was receiving was far worse than the other penalties.

What he feared most was the mental illness that was haunting him every day. He worried that one day he would be like his father, sitting silently at home, observing and doubting the whole world. These internal struggles would only push him faster down that path. No, he needed to get to the bottom of this. Before reporting to the police, he needed to know who had thrown those pieces of paper into his car.

Throughout that day, Hoang maintained a sufficient distance from the car to observe it. Starting from work, he went to the security guard's room and asked to play chess with him. But while playing, Hoang's eyes barely left the car for more than ten seconds. The whole day dragged on, with no sign of any intruder. In the evening, Hoang returned home along the familiar road. When he reached the spot where the accident occurred, he stopped, got out of the car, and walked along the side of the road for a while. He needed to face this. By this point, Hoang no longer felt fear or anxiety. He was anticipating whatever would happen. Whoever the masked intruder was, he no longer felt the need to be afraid or ashamed.

That night, Hoang fell asleep earlier than usual. But then he woke up with a haunting dream. He dreamt that a pink tranquilizer pill suddenly appeared in his car, and then the pill swelled up until the car exploded. Panicked, Hoang jumped up and ran down to the parking garage. Suddenly, he saw someone opening the door of his car.

"Dad! So it's you? So this is how you've been threatening me all this time?" Hoang shouted when he realized Mr. Huy was standing right by the back door of the car.

Mr. Huy stared intently at Hoang, his hand still clutching the piece of paper he hadn't yet slipped into the car. Hoang snatched the paper and saw the words: "It's Dad. I know everything. Don't be afraid, face it all. I'm always here for you."

The piece of paper in Hoang's hand trembled. He hugged his father, whose eyes were welling up with tears.