Luc Lam Chau never turned around.
At that moment, all his attention was on Ta Chi Nhu, who was trembling in his arms.
—Don’t be afraid.
His voice was still gentle.
—I’m here.
Those words…
I had waited for them for so many years.
But I never received them.
Not even when I was carrying his child.
Not even when I was bleeding on the operating table.
Not even when I grabbed his uniform with the last bit of strength I had left.
I looked at the man I had loved for half my life.
And suddenly…
I no longer felt pain.
Only exhaustion.
The next morning, the military hospital released the official report.
Major General Luc Lam Chau’s wife, Kieu Nguyet.
Deceased.
The unborn child.
Deceased.
The cause:
Severe blood loss caused by an accidental shooting injury.
The report was only a few pages.
My entire life.
My child’s entire life.
Reduced to a few cold sentences.
And Luc Lam Chau…
still hadn’t signed it.
Because he still believed I was angry.
Because he still believed I was hiding somewhere waiting for him to apologize.
Because he still believed I loved him too much to leave.
Three days later.
The funeral hall was empty.
No relatives.
No husband.
No flowers.
Only a cold portrait of me placed in front.
The staff looked at the documents.
—The husband hasn’t arrived yet?
The person responsible shook his head.
—No.
—Should we contact him again?
A pause.
Then:
—He said he was taking care of the injured person.
The staff member sighed.
—Poor woman.
I stood beside my own portrait.
Listening.
But I no longer cried.
Because the tears I had left…
had already fallen on the operating table.
On the fifth day, Luc Lam Chau finally learned the truth.
It wasn’t because someone told him.
It was because he accidentally opened the file that Tieu Chu had left behind.
Inside was my medical record.
The emergency report.
The death certificate.
And one final document.
The paternity confirmation for the baby.
His hand froze when he saw the name.
Father:
Luc Lam Chau.
Mother:
Kieu Nguyet.
Child:
Male.
He stared at the paper for a long time.
Then he laughed.
A broken, empty laugh.
—Impossible.
His voice trembled.
—She was just angry.
Nobody answered.
The room was silent.
Because everyone already knew.
Only he didn’t.
Luc Lam Chau rushed to the morgue.
For the first time in his life…
he ran without caring about his image.
Without caring about discipline.
Without caring about anyone watching.
The cold door opened.
Inside were two small beds.
One large.
One tiny.
He stopped.
His entire body became stiff.
Because there I was.
The woman who had spent years waiting for him.
The woman who had once smiled and said:
“Even if everyone gives up on you, I won’t.”
The woman who had protected him countless times.
The woman who had carried his child.
And beside me…
was his son.
A child who would never call him father.
Luc Lam Chau slowly walked closer.
His fingers touched the cold blanket.
For the first time…
the strongest man in the military district looked completely helpless.
—Nguyet…
His voice cracked.
—I came.
But there was no response.
There never would be again.
He knelt beside me.
Like someone finally understanding a punishment that could never be reversed.
That night, he stayed in the morgue until sunrise.
No one dared disturb him.
At dawn, Tieu Chu found him still sitting there.
In his hand was my old phone.
The screen was broken.
But the last message I had sent him before the accident was still there.
Three days before my death.
“Lam Chau, the baby moved today.”
“I think he recognizes your voice.”
“I recorded it. When you come home, I’ll let you hear it.”
Below that…
was his reply.
Only two words.
“Busy now.”
Luc Lam Chau stared at those words.
Over and over.
Until his eyes turned red.
Because he finally understood.
The last thing his son wanted to give him…
was something he had never even received.
Meanwhile, Ta Chi Nhu heard the news.
She became pale.
—He’s dead?
The nurse nodded.
—Both mother and child.
For a moment, Ta Chi Nhu was silent.
Then she asked softly:
—Does Major General Luc hate me?
The nurse looked at her.
—Miss Ta…
—If he hates me, what should I do?
Her voice trembled.
But her eyes remained calm.
Because she knew.
She had lost the battle of innocence.
Three months later.
The Military Affairs Department reopened the investigation.
The truth came out piece by piece.
The bullet was not an accident.
The gun had been hidden intentionally.
The blood transfer order had been signed by Luc Lam Chau himself.
The emergency resources had been redirected.
And the complaint document…
had been forced under pressure when I was unable to think clearly.
The entire military district was shocked.
The hero everyone admired…
had made the biggest mistake of his life.
When Luc Lam Chau stood before the investigation committee, nobody recognized him.
He looked older.
Much older.
The proud major general who once believed he could control everything…
could only lower his head.
—It was my fault.
Three words.
But they came too late.
A committee member asked:
—Major General Luc, do you have anything else to say?
He was silent.
Then he answered:
—Tell Kieu Nguyet…
His voice stopped.
Because he suddenly remembered.
She would never hear him again.
Finally, he whispered:
—Tell her I was wrong.
But the dead cannot forgive.
And the living must carry the consequences.
Years later, people still remembered the story.
The major general who lost his wife.
The child who never opened his eyes.
The woman who loved someone until her final breath.
But nobody called Kieu Nguyet foolish anymore.
Because everyone understood one thing:
The greatest tragedy was not losing someone who loved you.
It was realizing their value…
after you had already destroyed the only chance you had to protect them.
And Luc Lam Chau spent the rest of his life remembering:
The day he chose another woman…
was the day he lost the only woman who would have chosen him forever.
