I stood in the kitchen and watched the soup simmer.

For years, Luc Canh Xuyen had loved the soup I made.

When he returned from night training, I waited for him.

When his stomach hurt, I learned which ingredients he could tolerate.

When he went on missions, I packed medicine, clothes, and everything he might forget.

I had once believed loving someone meant remembering everything for them.

Now I understood something else.

If only one person remembered, it wasn’t devotion.

It was exhaustion.

Forty minutes later, I carried the soup into the room.

To Van Van smiled immediately.

“Thank you, Sister Nien.”

I placed it on the table.

Mrs. Luc frowned.

“Feed her.”

Canh Xuyen finally lifted his head.

“Mother, that’s enough.”

Mrs. Luc stared at him.

“What did you say?”

“I said that’s enough.”

His voice wasn’t loud, but the room went silent.

Van Van quickly lowered her eyes.

“Brother Canh Xuyen, don’t argue with Auntie because of me.”

Brother.

Such an intimate word.

I smiled.

“She’s right. Don’t argue.”

Canh Xuyen looked at me.

I took my coat.

“I’m leaving.”

He immediately followed.

“Nien Nien.”

His hand almost touched mine.

I stepped away.

His fingers froze in midair.

“What do you mean by annulled?”

“I submitted the documents three months ago.”

His face changed.

“Three months?”

“Yes.”

The exact day he left me at the military medical station and accompanied Van Van away.

That mission had been the final crack.

Van Van had discovered she was pregnant during the deployment.

Mrs. Luc demanded that Canh Xuyen personally escort her back.

I had been left behind with an injured unit and no transport until the next morning.

Before leaving, I had asked him one question.

“If you go with her now, what about me?”

He had been impatient.

“You’re always jealous.”

Then came the sentence I would never forget.

“Stop behaving like a crazy woman.”

So I stopped.

I stopped asking.

Stopped waiting.

Stopped being jealous.

And started preparing to leave.

Canh Xuyen stared at me.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I tried.”

“When?”

“The first week.”

I looked at him.

“You didn’t answer.”

His expression stiffened.

“The second week, I called again. Your mother answered and said you were busy accompanying Van Van to an examination.”

His lips parted.

“The third week, I sent the documents to your office.”

“I never saw them.”

“That isn’t my problem anymore.”

He grabbed his phone.

“I’ll call my assistant.”

I stopped him.

“Don’t bother.”

“Nien Nien—”

“You asked why I changed.”

My voice remained calm.

“This is why.”

I walked toward the elevator.

This time, he didn’t stop me.

The following morning, however, Canh Xuyen appeared outside my apartment.

He looked as though he hadn’t slept.

In his hand was the envelope containing the annulment documents.

Still sealed.

His name was written across the front.

He stared at it as if it had betrayed him.

“My assistant found this in a locked drawer.”

I opened the door only halfway.

“And?”

“He said my mother ordered him not to give it to me.”

That didn’t surprise me.

“Then speak to your mother.”

“I came to speak to you.”

“There is nothing left to discuss.”

He put his hand against the door.

“Nien Nien, Van Van’s child isn’t mine.”

I looked at him.

“I know.”

That clearly wasn’t the reaction he expected.

“You know?”

“Yes.”

“Then why did you say those things at the party?”

“Because whether the child is yours stopped mattering.”

His expression darkened.

“How can it not matter?”

“Because you chose them anyway.”

Silence.

I continued:

“When she needed someone, you went.”

“When your mother called, you went.”

“When I needed you, you told me to understand.”

I looked directly at him.

“The problem was never whether you betrayed me physically.”

“The problem was that every time you had to choose where to stand, I already knew it wouldn’t be beside me.”

His hand slowly fell from the door.

For once, Major General Luc Canh Xuyen had no answer.

Three days later, the military legal office contacted me.

The annulment could proceed.

Canh Xuyen had refused to sign.

I expected that.

What I didn’t expect was the second call.

It came from Colonel Tran, an old commander who had known both of us for years.

“Miss Lam, could you come to headquarters?”

“Why?”

“There is something concerning your injury from three years ago.”

My hand tightened around the phone.

That injury had ended my first pregnancy.

Doctors had later told me another pregnancy would be extremely unlikely.

“What about it?”

Colonel Tran hesitated.

“The original mission report has been reopened.”

I went.

Canh Xuyen was already there.

So was Van Van.

The moment she saw me, her face lost color.

A folder lay on the conference table.

Colonel Tran opened it.

“Three years ago, during the evacuation, Miss Lam was injured while helping Major General Luc.”

Canh Xuyen lowered his eyes.

He remembered.

I remembered too.

But the colonel continued:

“The official report states that enemy activity caused the security breach.”

“Yes,” Canh Xuyen said.

Colonel Tran pushed forward another document.

“We now have evidence that this was incomplete.”

Van Van suddenly stood.

“I don’t feel well.”

“Sit down,” Colonel Tran said.

She froze.

He placed a communications log on the table.

“Someone transmitted the convoy’s altered departure time through an unauthorized device.”

Canh Xuyen’s expression changed.

“Who?”

Colonel Tran looked at Van Van.

She went completely pale.

“No.”

Canh Xuyen slowly turned toward her.

“What does this mean?”

Van Van shook her head.

“It wasn’t intentional.”

My blood went cold.

Colonel Tran’s voice became harder.

“You admit using the device?”

“I only sent one message!”

“To whom?”

“My cousin.”

“Why?”

Van Van began crying.

“He wanted to know when I would return.”

Canh Xuyen stared at her.

“You leaked our movement schedule?”

“I didn’t know anyone else would see it!”

He stood so abruptly that his chair fell backward.

For three years, he had blamed himself for failing to protect me.

I had blamed fate.

And now we were discovering that the chain of events had begun with a message Van Van had never been authorized to send.

Canh Xuyen looked at me.

His eyes were red.

“Nien Nien…”

I stepped back.

“Don’t.”

The investigation continued.

Van Van’s message had not been intended to harm anyone, but it had violated operational rules and exposed sensitive information. The consequences for her career were serious.

Mrs. Luc arrived that evening.

She didn’t ask how I felt.

She asked me to stay quiet.

“If this spreads, Van Van’s future is destroyed.”

I almost admired her consistency.

“Three years ago, my future changed too.”

“She didn’t mean it!”

“And that restores what I lost?”

Mrs. Luc fell silent.

Canh Xuyen stood behind her.

For the first time, he didn’t defend his mother.

Instead, he said:

“Leave.”

She turned.

“Canh Xuyen?”

“Leave.”

His voice shook.

“You hid the annulment documents. You pressured Nien Nien. You brought Van Van into our home and treated her like your daughter-in-law.”

Mrs. Luc’s face darkened.

“I did it for the Luc family!”

“No.”

He looked exhausted.

“You did it because you decided Nien Nien was worthless once she couldn’t give you a grandchild.”

Mrs. Luc slapped him.

The room went silent.

Canh Xuyen didn’t move.

He only opened the door.

“Go.”

She left.

Then he turned toward me.

“I’ll sign.”

I stared at him.

“The annulment.”

His voice became quiet.

“I’ll sign it.”

That evening, he did.

No argument.

No condition.

No promise that he would change.

When he finished, he placed the pen down and looked at our names on the document.

“We were supposed to marry next month.”

“Yes.”

“Do you hate me?”

I thought about it.

“No.”

That seemed to hurt him more.

“I used to.”

I picked up my copy.

“Then I got tired.”

Two months passed.

I moved to another city and accepted a position at a rehabilitation research center.

Canh Xuyen didn’t follow me.

He sent no flowers.

No gifts.

No dramatic apologies.

For the first time, he respected something I had asked for.

Then, one rainy afternoon, a package arrived.

Inside was the bracelet I had thrown away.

Cleaned.

Repaired.

But not restrung.

The two halves remained separate.

There was only a note.

I finally understand that repairing something doesn’t mean you have the right to wear it again.

I placed the bracelet back in the box.

I thought that was the end.

Until three weeks later.

Colonel Tran called.

“Nien Nien, there’s something you need to know.”

“What happened?”

“The investigation into Van Van’s unauthorized message uncovered another communication.”

I frowned.

“Another message?”

“Yes.”

“From her?”

“No.”

My hand slowly tightened around the phone.

“Then whose?”

There was a pause.

“Mrs. Luc’s.”

I stopped breathing.

“What did she send?”

Colonel Tran’s voice became grave.

“The night before your mission, she contacted the medical unit.”

My heart began pounding.

“Why?”

“She requested access to your health records.”

I couldn’t speak.

Then he continued:

“And according to the archived response, she received them.”

My legs weakened.

Three years earlier, before I lost my child, Mrs. Luc had repeatedly claimed she didn’t know I was pregnant.

That she would never have allowed me onto the mission if she’d known.

That my infertility afterward was simply a tragedy no one could have predicted.

I gripped the phone.

“Colonel…”

“Yes?”

“Did she know?”

His silence answered before his words did.

Finally, he said:

“According to these records, Mrs. Luc knew about your pregnancy before you were deployed.”

I stared at the rain running down the window.

And suddenly the story I had believed for three years began falling apart.

Because if Mrs. Luc had known—

then the question was no longer why Canh Xuyen had failed to protect me.

The question was why his mother had made sure I went to the front line in the first place.