“My aunt called me.”

Co Dien’s words made my brain stop working.

I stared at him.

“My mother… called you?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Two weeks ago.”

My mouth opened.

Then closed.

So the “elite who studied abroad, handsome, successful, perfect family background” my mother had praised for half a month…

was my ex-boyfriend.

The ex-boyfriend I had fled the country to escape.

I suddenly wanted to call my mother and ask whether I was actually her biological child.

Co Dien leaned back slightly.

“You seem disappointed.”

“No.”

I shook my head so quickly that I almost hurt my neck.

“Just surprised.”

“Really?”

His eyes rested on me.

“Because three years ago, you seemed much more surprised.”

My fingers tightened around the glass.

Here it came.

The reckoning.

I took a breath.

“Co Dien, what happened back then—”

“You broke into my study.”

He interrupted calmly.

“Called me a fraud.”

“Yes.”

“A bastard.”

I lowered my head.

“Yes.”

“And something about never seeing me again even if the Earth exploded.”

I whispered:

“I was emotional.”

“You threw your phone at me.”

“It missed.”

“You deliberately missed.”

“…Yes.”

His lips twitched.

For one second, I thought he might laugh.

But then his expression became serious again.

“And then you disappeared for three years.”

I looked toward the window.

“I thought you wanted to get rid of me.”

There.

Finally.

The sentence I had hidden from everyone for three years.

Co Dien frowned.

“What?”

“That phone call.”

I forced myself to look at him.

“You said the troublesome matter had dragged on too long.”

His expression slowly changed.

“You told your assistant not to worry about her reaction and to deal with it directly.”

I laughed bitterly.

“The day before, I had ruined that project and cried to you that I was causing trouble.”

“So I thought…”

I stopped.

Co Dien stared at me as if I had suddenly announced that I believed the moon was made of cheese.

Then he closed his eyes.

Very slowly.

When he opened them again, there was something terrifyingly calm in his gaze.

“Lin Hieu.”

“Yes?”

“The ‘troublesome matter’ was a lawsuit.”

I froze.

“What?”

“My cousin’s ex-partner had been harassing her for months.”

I said nothing.

“My assistant was arranging a restraining order and property settlement.”

My scalp went numb.

Co Dien continued:

“When I said not to worry about her reaction, I meant the opposing party.”

I stared at him.

My brain refused to process the information.

“So…”

“Yes.”

“That wasn’t about me?”

“No.”

“Not even a little?”

“Not even remotely.”

I slowly covered my face with both hands.

Three years.

I had fled for three years.

Changed countries.

Changed phone numbers.

Skipped my best friend’s wedding.

Nearly developed a nervous reaction every time I saw a black luxury car.

Because I misunderstood half a telephone conversation.

Co Dien’s voice came from across the table.

“Anything else you’d like to confess?”

I peeked through my fingers.

“No.”

He stared.

I lowered my hands.

“Maybe one thing.”

“What?”

“I thought you were going to scatter my ashes.”

For the first time, Co Dien genuinely lost his composure.

“What?”

I spoke faster.

“Because I left without explaining, and Nien Nhien said you weren’t going to her wedding because you had something to do, so I thought that ‘something’ was probably hunting me down—”

“Lin Hieu.”

“Yes?”

“I missed my sister’s wedding because I was in Europe looking for you.”

My smile disappeared.

The café suddenly felt too quiet.

“You… looked for me?”

“For eight months.”

I stopped breathing.

He looked down at his coffee.

“I contacted your old school.”

“Your former company.”

“Every mutual friend.”

“I flew to three cities because someone said they had seen you.”

His voice remained flat.

But that made it hurt more.

“Then I realized you were deliberately hiding.”

I swallowed.

“Why didn’t Co Nhien tell me?”

“Because she didn’t know we were dating.”

I stared at him.

Right.

We had hidden it from her.

Co Dien gave me a cold look.

“Your excellent undercover strategy worked beautifully.”

I wanted the floor to swallow me.

Then another question came to mind.

“Why did you agree to the blind date?”

His fingers paused.

“I was told there was a woman who had lived abroad for three years, worked in interior design, was stubborn, irresponsible, and terrified of marriage.”

My face slowly changed.

“That description is way too specific.”

“Your mother is not subtle.”

I almost cried.

“So you knew it was me before coming?”

“Yes.”

“And Co Nhien?”

“No.”

I suddenly understood why my best friend had looked like she had discovered buried treasure.

Co Dien looked at me.

“Now it’s my turn.”

“What?”

“Why did you block my sister?”

“Because she was your sister!”

“She thought she had offended you.”

My chest tightened.

“She cried for weeks.”

The guilt hit immediately.

I looked down.

“I’m sorry.”

“She kept asking whether she had done something wrong.”

“I was scared she would tell you where I was.”

“She didn’t know where you were.”

“I know that now.”

Silence.

Then Co Dien said:

“You owe her an apology.”

“I do.”

“And me?”

I looked at him.

His expression was unreadable.

“What do I owe you?”

“Three years.”

My heart skipped.

I tried to laugh.

“That’s a little expensive.”

“I’m not joking.”

Neither was he.

I looked away.

“Co Dien, it’s been three years.”

“I know.”

“We’re different people now.”

“I know.”

“You might already have someone.”

“No.”

That answer came too quickly.

I stared at him.

He continued:

“I didn’t get married.”

“I didn’t date anyone.”

“I didn’t wait because I believed you would return.”

He paused.

“I waited because I never understood why you left.”

My eyes burned.

For three years, I had imagined him moving on effortlessly.

Beautiful women around him.

A new girlfriend within months.

Perhaps even someone better suited to his world.

But he had been standing on the other side of the misunderstanding, asking the same question.

Why?

I whispered:

“I’m sorry.”

Co Dien looked at me for a long time.

Then:

“I don’t accept it yet.”

My heart sank.

But his next sentence stunned me.

“You can apologize properly over dinner.”

I blinked.

“What?”

“Tonight.”

“Are you asking me on a date?”

“No.”

He stood.

“This is debt collection.”

Then he picked up his coat.

“You owe me approximately one thousand ninety-five days.”

My mouth fell open.

“You calculated?”

“I’m good with numbers.”

At that moment, Co Nhien suddenly appeared from behind a decorative plant.

I nearly screamed.

“You were listening?!”

She looked shameless.

“Only the important parts.”

Then she grabbed me.

“You idiot!”

Before I could react, she hugged me so tightly I nearly lost my breath.

“You disappeared because you misunderstood a phone call?!”

“I know!”

“I thought I accidentally exposed you two!”

“I’m sorry!”

She hit my shoulder twice.

Then hugged me again.

Behind her, Co Dien watched us.

For the first time that afternoon, he smiled.

Not the cold, dangerous smile I had feared for three years.

The same quiet smile he used to show me late at night when nobody else was looking.

My heart suddenly became very noisy.

Six months later, I was still in the country.

Not because Co Dien forced me to stay.

Because I chose to.

I opened a design studio.

Co Nhien became my loudest unofficial marketing department.

And Co Dien…

became annoyingly patient.

He didn’t ask me to move in.

Didn’t demand that we continue where we left off.

He simply started again.

Coffee.

Dinner.

Movies.

Arguments.

Normal things we had skipped the first time because we had been too busy hiding from everyone.

One evening, he drove me home and handed me a small box.

I immediately panicked.

“What is this?”

“Open it.”

Inside was not a ring.

It was a plane ticket.

I stared at him.

“Where are we going?”

He leaned against the car.

“Anywhere you want.”

I looked at the ticket.

No destination had been selected yet.

Then he said:

“Last time you boarded a plane because you were running away from me.”

His voice softened.

“This time, choose somewhere you actually want to go.”

My nose suddenly hurt.

I looked at him.

“And if I choose somewhere far away?”

“I’ll buy the seat beside you.”

“And if I run again?”

Co Dien raised an eyebrow.

“Then this time, at least listen to the whole phone call first.”

I burst out laughing.

Three years earlier, I had believed love ended because of one sentence I overheard.

Only later did I understand that the real problem was never that sentence.

It was that I was too afraid to ask what it meant.

And Co Dien was too certain I would always stay long enough to explain.

We had both learned something.

Love does not survive because two people never misunderstand each other.

It survives when they stop running long enough to ask.

So when Co Dien eventually proposed a year later, I did not flee to the airport.

I looked at him carefully.

Then I asked:

“Are you sure this proposal is about me?”

He stared at me for three seconds.

Then laughed so hard he had to cover his face.

And that was how the man I spent three years hiding from finally became the person I stopped being afraid to face.