At six in the morning, my shift finally ended.
I changed out of my white coat, opened my locker, and stared at the pregnancy test hidden inside my bag.
Two lines.
Three days ago, those two lines had made me sit on my bathroom floor and cry with happiness.
Now they looked almost cruel.
I had imagined telling Ha Tri Ngon over dinner.
I had even bought a tiny pair of white baby socks and put them inside a gift box.
I wondered how he would react.
Would he smile?
Would he touch my stomach?
Would he finally talk about marriage?
What an idiot I had been.
I put the pregnancy test back into my bag and walked out of the hospital.
I had barely reached the parking lot when someone grabbed my wrist.
“On Lan.”
I didn’t need to turn around.
Ha Tri Ngon.
He looked exhausted. His shirt was wrinkled, and there was dried blood on his cuff.
Au Thien Thien’s blood.
“Let go.”
“We need to talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
His grip loosened.
“Thien Thien and I—”
“She’s pregnant with your child.”
He went silent.
“I heard her very clearly.”
“It’s complicated.”
I almost laughed.
Men always seemed to discover that word when the truth became ugly.
“How complicated can seven weeks be?”
His face stiffened.
“That night happened before she returned officially. She was in the country for medical treatment. She was emotionally unstable and—”
“And you slept with her.”
He looked away.
That was enough.
I pulled my hand free.
“How long?”
“On Lan…”
“How long have you been cheating on me?”
“It only happened once.”
I stared at him.
For four years, I had loved this man.
For four years, I had accepted that there was a woman named Au Thien Thien buried somewhere in his heart.
Everyone knew about her.
His first love.
His unattainable moonlight.
The woman who left for Paris ten years ago.
I had believed that time would eventually make me more important than a memory.
Apparently memories could come home.
And get pregnant.
“I understand.”
I turned away.
He caught my arm again.
“What do you understand?”
“That we’re finished.”
His expression changed.
“Don’t say things you’ll regret.”
“I won’t.”
“On Lan, we’ve been together for four years.”
“Exactly.”
My voice finally trembled.
“Four years, Ha Tri Ngon. And you destroyed them in one night.”
He became silent.
Then his phone rang.
The moment he looked at the screen, I already knew.
Au Thien Thien.
He answered immediately.
“Thien Thien?”
I watched his expression turn tense.
“What happened?”
A pause.
“I’m coming.”
He hung up.
“She’s bleeding again.”
Of course.
He looked at me as if expecting me to understand.
“On Lan, we’ll finish this conversation later.”
“No.”
He stopped.
“There won’t be a later.”
But he was already walking away.
“You’re angry right now,” he said over his shoulder. “Go home and sleep. I’ll explain everything tonight.”
Then he disappeared through the hospital doors.
I stood alone in the parking lot.
My hand slowly moved to my abdomen.
Eight weeks.
One week older than hers.
I whispered,
“Did you hear that?”
My throat tightened.
“Daddy is busy.”
I went home and slept for almost twelve hours.
When I woke up, there were twenty-three missed calls.
Most were from Ha Tri Ngon.
The last message read:
“Thien Thien’s condition has stabilized. I’m coming over.”
I looked around the apartment.
His slippers were beside the door.
His toothbrush was in my bathroom.
His clothes occupied half my wardrobe.
Four years of his existence had quietly spread through every corner of my life.
I got out of bed.
Then I began packing.
Not my things.
His.
At eight thirty, the door opened.
Ha Tri Ngon walked in.
He froze when he saw two suitcases beside the entrance.
“What are you doing?”
“Returning your belongings.”
His face darkened.
“Stop acting impulsively.”
I looked at him calmly.
“Your clothes are inside. I packed your laptop charger too.”
“On Lan.”
“And the watch your mother gave you is in the front pocket.”
He kicked the door shut.
“Enough.”
For the first time, anger appeared in his voice.
“I admitted I made a mistake. What else do you want?”
I stared at him.
“You think sleeping with another woman and getting her pregnant is a mistake?”
His jaw tightened.
“I’ll take responsibility for the child.”
I almost admired the irony.
“What about Au Thien Thien?”
“She can’t raise a baby alone.”
“So you’ll take responsibility for her too.”
Silence.
There it was.
The answer he didn’t want to say.
I nodded.
“Then congratulations.”
“On Lan, don’t twist my words.”
“I’m not.”
I picked up his suitcase and pushed it toward him.
“I’m making room for your family.”
Something in his expression changed.
“You are my family.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“I was the woman you stayed with while waiting for your family to come back.”
His face went pale.
“That’s not true.”
“Then tell me something.”
I looked directly into his eyes.
“If Au Thien Thien and I were both lying in hospital beds tonight, and you could only stay beside one of us…”
I paused.
“Who would you choose?”
He didn’t answer.
Three seconds.
Five.
Ten.
I smiled.
“Thank you.”
I opened the door.
His expression suddenly became uneasy.
“On Lan—”
“Leave.”
He didn’t.
Instead, he looked at me strangely.
“Why are you so pale?”
My heart skipped.
“I’m tired.”
He stepped closer.
“Are you sick?”
“No.”
His eyes dropped toward my hand.
Only then did I realize I had unconsciously covered my lower abdomen.
His gaze sharpened.
“What’s wrong with your stomach?”
“Nothing.”
I moved away too quickly.
And my bag fell from the table.
Everything spilled across the floor.
Wallet.
Keys.
Lip balm.
Hospital ID.
And a folded laboratory report.
I froze.
Ha Tri Ngon bent down before I could reach it.
He unfolded the paper.
For several seconds, he didn’t move.
Then his eyes slowly lifted to mine.
“Eight weeks?”
I said nothing.
His face lost all color.
“You’re pregnant?”
The room became unbearably quiet.
“When did you know?”
“Three days ago.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Something inside me finally broke.
“I was going to.”
My voice cracked.
“I was going to tell you this morning.”
He stared at me.
Then his eyes filled with realization.
“You were going to tell me after your shift…”
“Yes.”
“And then…”
“Then you carried another woman into my emergency room.”
He closed his eyes.
For the first time that night, Ha Tri Ngon looked genuinely shattered.
He reached toward me.
I stepped back.
“Don’t.”
“On Lan, that’s my child.”
I laughed softly.
“Interesting.”
His brows drew together.
“What?”
“Last night you said nothing could happen to Thien Thien’s child.”
I placed one hand over my stomach.
“But you didn’t even know this one existed.”
“I didn’t know!”
“Exactly.”
My tears finally fell.
“And whose fault is that?”
He had no answer.
His phone rang again.
Au Thien Thien.
Neither of us moved.
The phone continued ringing between us.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
I looked at him.
“Answer it.”
He didn’t.
“Go ahead.”
“On Lan…”
“She’s waiting for you.”
He silenced the phone.
“I’m staying.”
Strangely, hearing those words didn’t make me happy.
It only made me tired.
“You don’t understand.”
I wiped my tears.
“I don’t want you to choose me because I’m pregnant.”
His expression froze.
“And I don’t want my child growing up watching his father run to another woman every time she calls.”
“That won’t happen.”
“It already has.”
I opened the door again.
This time, my voice was calm.
“Take your things.”
He stood there for a long time.
Finally, he picked up the suitcases.
At the doorway, he turned back.
“I won’t give up on my child.”
I met his eyes.
“You should have thought about what you might lose before creating another one.”
He flinched.
Then he left.
I closed the door.
Only after hearing the elevator descend did I allow myself to collapse against it.
My hand rested over my abdomen.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“I thought I was going to give you a complete family.”
Tears slipped down my cheeks.
“But maybe…”
I breathed slowly.
“…a peaceful home is better than a complete one.”
What I didn’t know then was that Ha Tri Ngon never returned to Au Thien Thien’s hospital room that night.
And by morning, Au Thien Thien had discovered why.
Because when she called him for the twenty-fourth time, he finally answered.
She cried and asked,
“Tri Ngon, where are you?”
He stood outside my apartment until sunrise.
And gave her only one answer.
“Waiting for the woman I should never have betrayed.” pasted
