Chapter 4
362 Words
Tieu An used to think people stopped crying once the pain was too much.
She was wrong.
Tears could keep falling—slow, relentless—like proof that her heart still had places left to be shattered.
Pho Trach Huy returned at 1 a.m.
She hadn’t slept.
She heard the front door. His heavy footsteps echoed, stopping outside her room.
A brief silence.
She thought—maybe he’d come in.
She sat up, adjusted her collar, hands nervously clasped.
Maybe… just a question: “You’re still awake?”
She would’ve cried right then—not from sadness, but because, for once, he noticed she was still here.
But…
The door never opened.
His steps faded—colder, farther—dragging the last hope out of her chest.
She laughed. Softly. Bitterly.
The next morning, he ate breakfast without looking at her.
But this time, he spoke.
“Come with me to the hospital this afternoon.”
She looked up, hope flickering.
But his expression wiped it away.
“My sister needs a blood match. Yours works.”
Just a bag of blood.
Once again, she was the substitute.
She nodded. No complaints.
At the hospital, she lay still while the needle slid into her vein.
White ceiling tiles stared back at her.
He stood beside her with no emotion.
Behind the curtain, another woman rested—Le Tieu Nhi. The woman he had never let go of.
“Thank you,” a soft voice said from the other bed.
Tieu An smiled faintly—even as her blood left her body.
But she knew… that thank you wasn’t for her.
It was for the man holding the other woman’s hand.
The one she bled for.
The one he held.
There was no space left for her—not even in pain.
On the ride home, Pho Trach Huy suddenly said:
“Don’t pretend to be close next time. You don’t belong in our world.”
She wanted to ask: How much more blood, how many more years of my youth, do I have to give… before I can take one step toward you?
But she stayed quiet.
Because tears couldn’t save anyone.
- Writer
