When I opened my eyes again, it was already the next morning.

My right leg was wrapped and immobilized.

I tried to move, but a hand immediately pressed gently against my shoulder.

—Don’t.

I turned my head.

Mac Bac Uyen was sitting beside the bed.

He was still wearing surgical clothes, and exhaustion showed beneath his eyes.

—My leg?

—Saved.

Those two words made my entire body relax.

I closed my eyes.

—Thank you.

Bac Uyen was silent for several seconds.

Then his voice became colder.

—You promised me you would return safely.

I smiled weakly.

—Technically, I returned.

—On a stretcher.

—Still counts.

He stared at me.

I knew that expression.

Chief Mac, the most respected surgeon at the central military hospital, was angry.

But unlike Ta Quy Hong, his anger came from fear.

He leaned closer to my right side so I could hear him clearly.

—Your left ear suffered permanent damage.

My smile faded.

—I know.

—And rehabilitation for your leg will take months.

—Then I’ll spend months rehabilitating.

Bac Uyen sighed.

—You’re impossible.

I looked at him.

—Yet you’re still here.

His expression softened.

—Where else would I be?

That simple sentence made my throat tighten.

Three years ago, when everyone blamed me, Ta Quy Hong had sent me away without listening.

Three years later, I returned broken from the border, and Bac Uyen’s first question wasn’t what mistake I had made.

It was whether he could save me.

Two days later, news of the border evacuation reached headquarters.

My unit had successfully protected hundreds of civilians.

The two children I shielded had survived.

My injuries were officially recorded as occurring during the rescue operation.

That afternoon, Ta Quy Hong returned from his trip.

He came directly to the hospital.

I heard his voice outside.

—I’m here to see Lam Te Vu.

The guard answered:

—Major Lam is resting.

—Move.

Then another voice sounded.

Calm.

Cold.

—Major General Ta, this is a hospital, not your special forces headquarters.

Bac Uyen.

Silence followed.

Several minutes later, Bac Uyen entered.

—He wants to see you.

—No.

Bac Uyen nodded.

He didn’t persuade me.

That evening, however, Ta Quy Hong was still outside.

Finally, I agreed.

He entered alone.

His face looked completely different from the airport.

—Te Vu…

—Major Lam.

He stiffened.

Then he placed a folder beside my bed.

—Your border report.

I didn’t touch it.

—I read everything.

His voice became quieter.

—You weren’t injured because you violated discipline.

I laughed softly.

—Congratulations. It only took you three years to consider the possibility that I wasn’t incompetent.

His face tightened.

—Why didn’t you explain at the airport?

—Would you have believed me?

He couldn’t answer.

I continued:

—Three years ago, I explained what happened with To Tuyet.

You didn’t believe me.

—You slapped her.

—I did.

I didn’t avoid responsibility for that.

—But did you ever investigate what happened before that?

Ta Quy Hong fell silent.

That year, To Tuyet had interfered with equipment assigned to a junior soldier and tried to shift responsibility after being confronted.

Our argument escalated.

I had been wrong to strike her.

But Ta Quy Hong had accepted only her version and supported sending me to the border before the entire matter was properly reviewed.

Now another witness had finally spoken.

The truth had arrived three years late.

—I’m sorry, he said.

Once, those words would have destroyed every defense I had.

Now I simply nodded.

—I know.

His eyes suddenly moved toward the flowers beside my bed.

The card read:

“Come back to me properly this time. — Bac Uyen.”

Ta Quy Hong’s expression changed.

—At the airport you said you had a boyfriend.

—Yes.

—Mac Bac Uyen?

—Yes.

His jaw tightened.

—How long?

I looked toward the door.

Bac Uyen was speaking quietly with a nurse outside.

—Long enough.

—You barely know him.

I laughed.

—And yet he knows which ear I can hear him with.

Ta Quy Hong froze.

I continued calmly:

—He knows I hate celery. He knows I pretend I’m fine when I’m in pain. He knows which old injury aches when it rains.

My gaze returned to him.

—Most importantly, when I’m injured, he asks how to help me before deciding I’m guilty.

Ta Quy Hong’s face went pale.

—Te Vu, if I had known—

—But you didn’t.

He stepped closer.

—I can have you transferred back to my unit after rehabilitation.

—No.

—I can personally supervise—

—No.

My voice remained quiet.

—Stop deciding my future for me.

That finally silenced him.

Three months later, I could stand with assistance.

Six months later, I returned to limited duty.

Bac Uyen accompanied me through every medical review but never promised that everything would return to exactly how it had been.

He simply helped me build a life around what remained.

Nearly a year after the evacuation, I received a commendation for my role in protecting the civilians.

Ta Quy Hong attended the ceremony.

So did To Tuyet.

Afterward, she approached me.

—Major Lam.

I looked at her.

Her eyes were red.

—I’m sorry.

I waited.

—For hiding what happened back then. For letting everyone believe you attacked me without reason.

I was quiet for several seconds.

—Then tell the truth officially.

She nodded.

—I’ve already submitted my statement.

That was enough.

I didn’t need her humiliation.

I needed the record corrected.

Outside the hall, Bac Uyen was waiting.

When he saw me, he smiled.

—Finished?

—Finished.

He offered his hand.

Before I could take it, someone called behind me.

—Te Vu.

Ta Quy Hong.

I turned.

He remained several meters away.

For the first time since I’d known him, there was no command in his voice.

—If I had believed you three years ago…

He stopped.

Maybe he wanted to say we would still be together.

Maybe he wanted to say I would never have gone to the border.

Maybe he wanted another chance.

But none of those possibilities belonged to my present anymore.

I smiled faintly.

—But you didn’t.

His eyes moved toward Bac Uyen.

Then back to me.

—I hope he treats you better than I did.

I looked at the man waiting beside me.

—He already does.

Then I took Bac Uyen’s hand.

We walked away.

Ta Quy Hong didn’t follow.

Three years earlier, I had been sent to the border believing I’d lost everything.

My position.

My relationship.

My future.

Instead, I found people who trusted me with their lives.

I found the courage to stop begging someone to believe me.

And eventually, I found a man who never required me to become smaller so he could feel stronger.

At the airport, Ta Quy Hong had looked at my wounded body and thought it proved he had always been right about me.

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

Those injuries weren’t proof that I was weak.

They were proof that when two frightened children needed someone to stand between them and danger, I had been the one who stayed.

And by the time Ta Quy Hong finally understood the kind of woman he’d sent away, I had already stopped needing his approval to know exactly who I was.