That night, I learned that some coincidences were cruel enough to feel deliberate.

Tu Tri Yen was sitting on the sofa, touching the necklace around her neck while smiling at her phone.

Suddenly, she looked at me.

“Lam Lam, are you free Saturday?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Thu Chu is coming.”

My hand stopped.

She continued happily.

“I want the three of us to have dinner together.”

I immediately shook my head.

“I have work.”

“You work from home.”

“Then I have overtime.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“You’re avoiding my boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Then Saturday.”

Before I could invent another excuse, she had already sent him a message.

Two seconds later, her phone rang.

She answered on speaker.

“Thu Chu?”

His familiar voice came through.

“Saturday evening?”

“Yes. My roommate will come too.”

There was a brief silence.

Then he asked:

“Your roommate?”

“The one you met at the hospital.”

Another pause.

“Okay.”

For some reason, that single word made my heart uncomfortable.

Saturday arrived far too quickly.

I deliberately wore the simplest clothes I owned.

No makeup.

Hair tied back.

Nothing that could possibly attract attention.

When we reached the restaurant, Luong Thu Chu was already there.

He stood when Tu Tri Yen approached.

She smiled brightly and handed him something.

“Your bracelet almost broke last time, so I asked Lam Lam to repair it.”

My footsteps stopped.

Luong Thu Chu looked at his wrist.

Then at me.

“You repaired it?”

I wanted to disappear.

“Yes.”

Tu Tri Yen laughed.

“She made the original one too.”

The atmosphere changed instantly.

Luong Thu Chu’s expression became unreadable.

“You made it?”

“Tri Yen asked me to.”

His fingers slowly touched the red thread.

For some reason, he stared at it for several seconds before sitting down.

Dinner should have been normal.

It wasn’t.

Tu Tri Yen talked constantly.

I concentrated on eating.

Luong Thu Chu barely spoke.

But several times when I raised my head, I found him looking at me.

Not casually.

Not accidentally.

As though he was trying to solve something.

Halfway through dinner, Tu Tri Yen received a call from work.

She stepped outside.

The moment the door closed, silence descended.

I lowered my eyes.

Then Luong Thu Chu suddenly asked:

“Why did you leave?”

My chopsticks stopped.

“What?”

“Two years ago.”

My heart began beating faster.

So he remembered.

I forced myself to smile.

“There was nothing keeping me there.”

His gaze darkened.

“You changed your number.”

“Yes.”

“You left your apartment.”

“Yes.”

“Luong Thien said even she couldn’t contact you.”

I finally looked at him.

“Mr. Luong, why does it matter?”

His jaw tightened slightly.

“I’m asking a question.”

“And I don’t owe you an answer.”

The words came out sharper than intended.

But I was tired.

Two years ago, I had already embarrassed myself enough.

I wasn’t going to do it twice.

I stood.

“I’ll check on Tri Yen.”

His voice stopped me.

“Lam Nhu.”

It was the first time he had spoken my full name since we met again.

I froze.

Behind me, he said quietly:

“I recognized you at the hospital.”

My fingers curled.

So much for hoping he had forgotten.

I turned around.

“Then why pretend otherwise?”

“Because you were pretending first.”

I couldn’t answer.

He looked at me for several seconds.

Then he asked:

“Do you still misunderstand what happened back then?”

I almost laughed.

“Misunderstand?”

“You told me yourself that you were waiting for someone.”

“I was.”

“And apparently she came back.”

His expression changed.

Before he could answer, the door opened.

Tu Tri Yen returned.

“Sorry! My boss talks forever.”

The conversation ended there.

But something had already shifted.

For the next week, I avoided both of them whenever possible.

Then, late Friday evening, someone knocked on our apartment door.

I checked through the peephole.

Luong Thu Chu.

I considered pretending nobody was home.

Then he knocked again.

“Lam Nhu.”

I reluctantly opened it.

“What do you need?”

“Tri Yen left something here.”

Of course.

I moved aside.

He entered but didn’t go toward her bedroom.

Instead, he placed a small paper bag on the table.

“For you.”

I stared at it.

“What?”

“Open it.”

Inside was a new phone.

I immediately pushed it back.

“I don’t need this.”

“It isn’t a gift.”

“Then?”

His eyes settled on mine.

“Your old phone.”

My breathing stopped.

He couldn’t mean—

“The one you left behind two years ago.”

I stared at him.

“How do you have it?”

“You left it in Luong Thien’s apartment.”

I remembered.

That night, after everything fell apart, I had thrown away my SIM card and abandoned almost everything connected to my old life.

“I kept it,” he said.

“Why?”

He didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he took the phone from the box.

The screen was cracked.

The battery had been replaced.

But it was unmistakably mine.

He unlocked it.

Then opened an old message thread.

My face turned cold.

There were dozens of unsent drafts.

All addressed to him.

Things I had written during years of secretly liking him but never dared send.

I reached for the phone.

He moved it away.

“You read them?”

“No.”

“Then give it back.”

“Not yet.”

I glared at him.

“What exactly do you want?”

His expression was unusually serious.

“To correct something.”

“What?”

“The person I told you I was waiting for.”

My throat tightened.

I didn’t want to hear this.

Especially not while living with Tu Tri Yen.

“Don’t.”

But he continued.

“She left without telling me.”

I stared at him.

“I waited two years.”

My heart sank.

Two years.

Exactly the amount of time Tu Tri Yen had been abroad before returning.

I stepped backward.

“Then you should be happy now.”

He frowned.

“Why?”

“Because she’s back.”

He looked genuinely confused.

I suddenly became angry.

“Tu Tri Yen.”

Silence.

Luong Thu Chu stared at me.

Then his expression changed completely.

“What does Tri Yen have to do with this?”

Now it was my turn to freeze.

“She’s your girlfriend.”

“No.”

I couldn’t process the answer.

“What?”

“Tri Yen isn’t my girlfriend.”

I laughed nervously.

“She calls you her boyfriend.”

“No, she doesn’t.”

“She told me her boyfriend’s surname is Luong.”

He nodded.

“It is.”

“She said he waited for her while she was abroad.”

“Yes.”

“She said he’s from Beijing.”

“Yes.”

I stared at him.

Every answer fit.

Then he delivered the one sentence that destroyed everything I thought I understood.

“My cousin Luong Thien has an older brother.”

I stopped breathing.

“Tri Yen is dating him.”

The apartment suddenly felt too quiet.

“But the hospital…”

“He was overseas. He asked me to handle things until he could return.”

“The necklace?”

“A discharge gift from their family.”

“The bracelet?”

He raised his wrist.

“This?”

My face burned.

He stepped closer.

“You made this.”

“Because Tri Yen asked me to.”

“No.”

His voice became softer.

“She asked you to repair it.”

I frowned.

“The original bracelet was given to me two years ago.”

My heart slammed against my ribs.

“That’s impossible.”

Luong Thu Chu looked directly at me.

“Luong Thien found it among the things you left behind.”

Memory flashed through my mind.

Years ago, when I first learned to weave bracelets, I had made one secretly.

For him.

I never gave it to him.

I had been too afraid.

I thought I lost it when I moved.

My voice trembled.

“Why would you wear it?”

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he unlocked my old phone again.

This time, he opened the photo gallery.

There was an image I had completely forgotten.

A photograph taken at university.

Luong Thu Chu was standing beneath a tree.

I had photographed him from far away.

Underneath the image was a note I had written to myself:

“If I ever become brave enough, I’ll tell him.”

My face burned.

I reached for the phone.

He finally handed it to me.

Then he said:

“You disappeared before I could explain.”

I stared at him.

“Explain what?”

“That night, when I said I was waiting for someone…”

He paused.

“…I didn’t know the person standing in front of me was her.”

My mind went blank.

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“It will.”

He took something from his coat.

An old photograph.

Four university students stood together.

Luong Thien.

Me.

Two others.

On the back was handwriting.

Mine.

Except I had never written that message.

I looked closer.

The final line said:

“Please don’t tell Lam Nhu yet. She doesn’t remember me.”

My blood ran cold.

I raised my head.

“What is this?”

Before he could answer, the apartment door opened.

Tu Tri Yen walked inside.

She saw the photograph.

Her smile vanished.

Then she looked at Luong Thu Chu.

“You showed her?”

I turned toward my roommate.

“You knew?”

Tri Yen slowly put down her bag.

Her eyes filled with guilt.

“Lam Lam…”

“Knew what?”

Neither answered.

I looked again at the photograph.

Then I noticed something in the corner.

A date.

It was taken three years before I supposedly met Luong Thu Chu for the first time.

And suddenly I understood the real mystery wasn’t why he had rejected me two years ago.

It was why I couldn’t remember meeting him years before that.