THAT DAY, YOU WERE THERE

Chi Nhuoc once believed that as long as there was a roof above her head, she could call that place a home. Later, she learned that some roofs only sheltered rain, not hearts. Her mother passed away when Chi Nhuoc was still very young. She could no longer remember her mother’s face clearly, only fragments remained—soft hands brushing her hair, a warm voice whispering lullabies in the dark, and a faint scent that sometimes appeared in her dreams. Soon after, her father left. He did not argue, did not explain, and did not look back. He chose another family, leaving Chi Nhuoc behind as if she were a mistake he wished to forget. From that day on, her grandparents became her entire world. They were old and frail, yet they loved her with everything they had. Life was hard, money was scarce, but Chi Nhuoc never felt lonely. Their small house was filled with warmth, laughter, and simple happiness. She thought that as long as she stayed there, everything would be fine. Until the year she turned fifteen. A sudden accident took her grandparents away forever. In just one night, the world she relied on collapsed completely. Standing at the funeral, Chi Nhuoc felt numb. She did not scream or cry loudly like others. Instead, she stood still, staring at the ground, as if her soul had already left her body. After the funeral, she was sent to live with her uncle’s family. The moment she stepped into that house, Chi Nhuoc understood one thing clearly—she was not welcome. Her aunt’s eyes were sharp and cold, filled with impatience and annoyance. “Another burden,” her aunt muttered, without trying to lower her voice. Those words followed Chi Nhuoc into every corner of that house. From then on, her days were filled with endless chores. She woke up before sunrise to clean the house, prepare meals, wash clothes, and take care of everything. She moved quietly, spoke carefully, and tried her best not to make mistakes. She believed that if she worked hard enough, she might earn a place in that family. But kindness never came. A small mistake was enough to invite harsh scolding. Sometimes, it was followed by slaps that burned on her skin long after the pain faded. Chi Nhuoc learned to lower her head and remain silent. Resistance only made things worse. Her cousin, Tham Moc, disliked her openly. They were the same age, yet completely different. Tham Moc was spoiled and proud, while Chi Nhuoc was careful and withdrawn. At school, Tham Moc mocked her in front of classmates. At home, she blamed Chi Nhuoc for every little problem. To her, Chi Nhuoc was nothing more than a servant who lived under the same roof. Chi Nhuoc endured everything. She endured the misunderstandings. She endured the humiliation. She endured the loneliness that followed her everywhere. The only person who ever defended her was her uncle. He was a gentle man who believed Chi Nhuoc deserved better. Whenever her aunt became too harsh, he would step in and stop her. But he worked far away and rarely stayed home. Sometimes he was gone for weeks, sometimes for months. When he left, the house returned to its cold and suffocating state. At school, Chi Nhuoc was almost invisible. She sat in the back of the classroom, avoided eye contact, and never raised her hand. No one bullied her openly, but no one cared either. She felt like a shadow drifting through the corridors, existing but never truly seen. There were nights when Chi Nhuoc lay awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering why she was still alive. She wished she could disappear, vanish into thin air, and escape the pain that followed her every day. One afternoon, everything reached its breaking point. Tham Moc secretly stole money from her mother to go out with friends. When the missing money was discovered, Tham Moc did not hesitate to blame Chi Nhuoc. Without listening to any explanation, her aunt dragged Chi Nhuoc into the living room and beat her violently. Chi Nhuoc did not fight back. She curled up on the floor, protecting herself as best as she could. She knew that if she resisted, she might lose even this place to stay. For a child with nowhere else to go, silence was her only defense. That night, she cried quietly into her pillow. Her body hurt, but her heart hurt even more. A child who grows up without love learns early how to survive alone. Years passed slowly. By her final year of high school, Chi Nhuoc had grown used to the pain. She no longer cried easily. She no longer expected warmth from anyone. Yet deep inside her heart, a small flame still burned. She wanted to leave. She wanted freedom. She wanted a life that belonged to her. That flame turned into hope when she received her university acceptance letter. She had been admitted to the sculpture department of the school she dreamed of. Holding the letter in her hands, Chi Nhuoc felt her chest tighten. For the first time in years, she smiled sincerely. It felt like light breaking through endless darkness. She packed her belongings quietly and left her hometown behind. The house, the memories, and the pain stayed there. As she stepped into the city, she promised herself that she would never return to that life again. Under the morning sunlight, Chi Nhuoc walked through the gates of her university. With each step, she felt as if she were shedding her old self. New faces, new surroundings, and new possibilities lay ahead. She did not know yet that her future would be filled with unexpected encounters, betrayal, and emotions she had never experienced before. Among those encounters was a man named Te Mac—someone who would change the course of her life forever.