Pho Can never asked me again why I had thrown away the bracelet.

Perhaps he was afraid of the answer.

Or perhaps he believed what he had always believed—that no matter how angry I became, I would eventually stay.

That night, he slept beside me as usual.

His phone vibrated three times after midnight.

Each time, he silenced it without checking the screen.

On the fourth vibration, he got up.

“I have an urgent meeting.”

I opened my eyes.

“At one in the morning?”

He paused while fastening his uniform jacket.

“Something happened at headquarters.”

I nodded.

“Be careful.”

He stared at me for several seconds.

That was all?

No questions.

No suspicion.

No request for him to return early.

The old Hoai Am would have sat up immediately.

She would have asked which department had called.

She might even have waited awake until dawn.

But I simply turned off the bedside lamp.

“Good night.”

Pho Can didn’t move.

Finally, he came back, bent down and kissed my forehead.

“I’ll explain everything soon.”

I closed my eyes.

“You don’t have to.”

He left.

Five minutes later, I got up.

Through the window, I watched his car disappear beyond the compound.

Then I opened my phone.

There was one unread message from my father.

Transfer approved. Report to Bac Thanh in four days.

Four days.

That was all that remained of my life with Pho Can.

The next morning, I asked him for my birthday present.

He had returned at dawn and was drinking coffee when I placed my passport on the table.

“What do you want?”

“A plane ticket.”

His eyebrows lifted.

“Where?”

“Bac Thanh.”

He smiled.

“You want to travel?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Four days from now.”

He immediately picked up his phone.

“Then I’ll go with you.”

“No.”

His finger stopped.

I smiled.

“You’ve been busy lately. I want to spend a few days alone.”

Pho Can studied me.

Then his phone rang.

The name appearing on the screen was only visible for a second.

Co Van Tinh.

He turned the phone face down.

I pretended not to notice.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll buy it.”

“One way.”

This time he frowned.

“Why one way?”

“I don’t know when I’ll come back.”

Pho Can stared at me.

Then he laughed.

“All right. I’ll buy the return ticket whenever you get tired of Bac Thanh.”

I smiled too.

“Okay.”

He booked the ticket himself.

Window seat.

Business class.

One way.

Then he pushed the phone toward me.

“Happy birthday in advance.”

I looked at the confirmation.

For a moment, I almost felt sorry for him.

Pho Can had personally purchased the ticket that would take me out of his life.

And he didn’t know it.

Three days before departure, I returned to the unit for the last administrative procedure.

My transfer was still confidential.

Only the commander and personnel department knew.

As I walked through the corridor, I heard several officers discussing an upcoming ceremony.

“Major General Pho’s marriage is really happening?”

“Apparently.”

“Co Van Tinh’s family has already sent invitations.”

“Didn’t he have a girlfriend?”

A laugh followed.

“Dating and marriage aren’t necessarily the same thing.”

I kept walking.

Nobody noticed me.

Then someone called my name.

“Hoai Am!”

I turned.

Captain Minh ran toward me.

“You’re leaving without even telling us where you’re being transferred?”

“Orders haven’t been announced.”

“At least tell me whether you’re staying in the military region.”

I smiled.

“You’ll know soon.”

He lowered his voice.

“Have you heard about Major General Pho?”

I looked at him calmly.

“What about him?”

Minh hesitated.

“Forget it.”

“Tell me.”

He scratched the back of his neck.

“People say he’s marrying Co Van Tinh.”

“I know.”

His eyes widened.

“You know?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re this calm?”

“What should I do?”

Minh couldn’t answer.

Neither could I.

That evening, when I returned home, Pho Can was waiting.

There was a cake on the table.

My favorite dishes.

And a bouquet of white roses.

“Your birthday isn’t until tomorrow,” he said, “but I’ll be busy.”

Of course.

Tomorrow was also the day the Co family was holding their private engagement banquet.

I sat opposite him.

Pho Can poured me a glass of juice.

“I may not be able to answer the phone tomorrow.”

“That’s fine.”

“Don’t get angry.”

“I won’t.”

He looked uncomfortable.

Then he took a velvet box from his pocket.

Inside was a diamond necklace.

“Do you like it?”

I didn’t touch it.

“It’s expensive.”

“You deserve expensive things.”

I almost asked him whether Co Van Tinh’s engagement ring had cost more.

Instead, I closed the box.

“Thank you.”

Pho Can suddenly reached across the table and held my hand.

“Hoai Am.”

“Yes?”

“If one day you discovered I had hidden something important from you, would you forgive me?”

There it was.

One final door.

All he needed to do was open it himself.

I looked directly into his eyes.

“Depends on why you hid it.”

His fingers tightened.

“What if I had no choice?”

“Everyone has a choice.”

His expression changed.

I continued softly:

“Sometimes we just don’t like the price of the choice we should make.”

Pho Can looked away.

And once again, he said nothing.

The next morning, I woke before sunrise.

Pho Can had already left.

On the table was a note.

Emergency duty. I’ll call tonight. Don’t forget to eat.

I folded it once.

Then placed it beside the diamond necklace.

I took my suitcase.

Everything I owned fit inside it.

Uniforms.

Books.

Two photographs of my mother.

A military medal she had left me.

Nothing belonging to Pho Can.

At the airport, my phone rang.

It was him.

“Are you already there?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you wait for me? I could have sent someone to drive you.”

“No need.”

Behind his voice, I heard music.

People talking.

Glasses touching.

Not an emergency meeting.

A banquet.

“Hoai Am.”

“Yes?”

“When will you return?”

I looked at the boarding gate.

“I don’t know.”

He laughed softly.

“Then enjoy yourself. I’ll pick you up whenever you come back.”

My eyes burned for the first time.

But I still smiled.

“You don’t have to wait for me.”

“What?”

The boarding announcement began.

I stood.

“My flight is boarding.”

“Call me when you land.”

“Pho Can.”

“Hmm?”

I wanted to say goodbye.

Instead, I said:

“Take care of yourself.”

He was silent.

Something in my tone must have finally reached him.

“Hoai Am, wait—”

I ended the call.

Then I boarded.

By the time Pho Can called again, my phone was already in airplane mode.

What I didn’t know was that less than two hours later, his engagement banquet collapsed.

Not because of me.

Because of my father.

The Commander-in-Chief had arrived unexpectedly for an inspection at the military headquarters.

Pho Can was summoned immediately.

He entered the conference room still wearing the formal uniform he had prepared for the Co family’s banquet.

My father sat at the head of the table.

Several senior officers were present.

Pho Can saluted.

“Commander.”

Father didn’t ask him to sit.

Instead, he opened a red personnel folder.

“Major General Pho.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Your unit recently submitted a transfer request for an officer.”

Pho Can remained composed.

“Which officer, sir?”

Father turned the folder around.

A photograph was attached to the first page.

Mine.

Pho Can’s expression changed.

My father watched him.

“Officer code 12138.”

Silence.

Pho Can stared at my photograph.

“Hoai Am?”

One of the generals frowned.

“You know her?”

Pho Can hesitated.

“She’s my girlfriend.”

My father’s eyes became cold.

“Girlfriend?”

“Yes, Commander.”

“And you don’t know where she’s being transferred?”

Pho Can’s face slowly lost color.

“No, sir.”

Father leaned back.

“Interesting.”

He opened another page.

“Because she requested reinstatement into Bac Thanh’s strategic command.”

Pho Can looked up sharply.

“Strategic command?”

“Correct.”

“But her rank—”

He stopped.

My father pushed the document across the table.

Pho Can looked down.

Then he froze.

The transfer wasn’t for an ordinary officer.

It listed the rank awaiting formal reinstatement.

Major General.

Pho Can stared at those words.

“That’s impossible.”

The room became silent.

My father slowly removed his glasses.

“Why?”

Pho Can struggled to answer.

“She never told me.”

“Apparently there are many things neither of you told the other.”

The sentence struck exactly where it needed to.

Then the door opened.

An aide entered and handed my father another document.

“Commander, the aircraft has landed safely in Bac Thanh.”

Father nodded.

Pho Can’s head snapped up.

“Aircraft?”

The aide looked confused.

“Major General Hoai’s transport, sir.”

Pho Can went completely still.

My father closed the folder.

Then he finally said the sentence that destroyed the last certainty Pho Can had about me.

“Major General Pho, since you claim she’s your girlfriend, perhaps you can answer something I’ve wondered for years.”

He looked directly at him.

“How did you date my only daughter for so long without ever realizing who her father was?”

Pho Can’s lips parted.

No sound came out.

Commander-in-Chief.

Only daughter.

The unknown girlfriend he had never considered suitable enough to introduce formally to his family.

The woman whose background the Co family had mocked as ordinary.

The woman whose one-way ticket he had personally bought.

It all connected at once.

Pho Can immediately reached for his phone.

My father stopped him.

“Don’t.”

Pho Can looked up.

“Commander, I need to call her.”

“No.”

For the first time, my father’s voice carried something more dangerous than authority.

It carried the anger of a father.

“She gave you years to speak.”

He looked at the clock.

“Now you can wait.”

At that exact moment, hundreds of kilometers away, I stepped onto the military airfield at Bac Thanh.

Two lines of officers stood waiting.

At the front was the deputy commander.

He saluted.

“Welcome back, Major General Hoai.”

I looked toward the familiar headquarters beyond the runway.

For years, I had hidden my name, my family and my rank because I wanted one person to love me without any of them.

I finally understood the irony.

Pho Can had gotten exactly that chance.

And he had wasted it.

My phone reconnected to the network.

Thirty-seven missed calls appeared.

All from him.

Then came a message.

Hoai Am, don’t sign anything. Don’t make any decisions until I explain.

Another arrived.

I didn’t marry her.

Then another.

I know who you are now.

I stared at that sentence.

And for some reason, it made me smile.

Because Pho Can was wrong.

He knew who my father was.

He knew my rank.

He knew the family name I had hidden.

But after all those years together, there was still one thing he had never truly known.

Me.