“Kien Vi, I’ll finish stringing it very soon.”
Nguyen Tinh Hoa stood in front of me holding the box of red agate beads.
Bui Tu Xuyen followed behind her.
When he saw that I was still standing near the registration counter, his expression relaxed visibly.
He probably thought I had waited again.
Just like the previous seven times.
He walked over and lowered his voice.
“See? We made it. Don’t be angry anymore.”
I looked at the digital clock.
Four minutes until closing.
Then I looked at him.
“Who said I was waiting for you?”
His smile disappeared.
“What?”
Before I could answer, the glass door behind us was pushed open.
A man stepped inside, slightly out of breath.
White shirt.
Black trousers.
Car keys still in one hand.
To Ky Bach.
The woman at the reception desk immediately glanced at the clock.
“You’re cutting it close.”
He walked directly toward me.
“I know.”
Then he looked at me.
Not at Bui Tu Xuyen.
Not at Nguyen Tinh Hoa.
Only me.
“Did you bring everything?”
I nodded.
“ID card, household registration, photos.”
To Ky Bach raised the document folder in his hand.
“Me too.”
For the first time, Bui Tu Xuyen seemed unable to understand what was happening in front of him.
He looked at To Ky Bach.
Then at me.
Finally, his eyes fell on the forms in my hand.
“Kien Vi.”
His voice became strangely low.
“What are you doing?”
I answered calmly.
“Registering my marriage.”
His face loosened.
Perhaps he still thought I meant with him.
Then To Ky Bach took the number slip from the receptionist.
The slip showed:
A039.
Our number.
Bui Tu Xuyen froze.
The receptionist called:
“A039, please proceed to counter three.”
To Ky Bach held out his hand to me.
“Let’s go.”
I placed my hand in his.
Behind me, something fell onto the floor.
The box in Nguyen Tinh Hoa’s hands.
The beads scattered for the second time that day.
But this time, Bui Tu Xuyen didn’t bend down to help her.
He grabbed my wrist.
“Duong Kien Vi.”
I stopped.
His fingers were cold.
“What does this mean?”
I looked down at his hand.
“Let go.”
“You’re marrying him?”
“Yes.”
His grip tightened.
“Are you insane?”
To Ky Bach stepped forward.
“Let her go.”
Bui Tu Xuyen finally looked at him directly.
His eyes were red.
“This is between me and my girlfriend.”
I corrected him.
“Ex-girlfriend.”
The words were not loud.
But they silenced the entire lobby.
Nguyen Tinh Hoa stopped picking up the beads.
The receptionist at counter three stared at us through the glass.
Bui Tu Xuyen looked as if someone had struck him.
“When did we break up?”
“Just now.”
His expression changed.
“You can’t decide something like that alone.”
I almost laughed.
“For seven years, every important decision between us has been made by you alone.”
I pointed toward the doorway.
“Whether we registered our marriage.”
“Whether we canceled.”
“Whether I waited.”
“Whether Tinh Hoa needed you more.”
“You decided everything.”
I pulled my wrist free.
“So today I decided something.”
His throat moved.
“Kien Vi, stop making trouble.”
There it was.
That sentence.
Every time I was hurt, I was “making trouble.”
Every time Nguyen Tinh Hoa cried, she “needed help.”
I looked at him for a long moment.
Then I said:
“I canceled the wedding hotel three weeks ago.”
His face changed.
“I moved out.”
He stared at me.
“I transferred the lease.”
His lips parted.
“The things missing from the wardrobe weren’t honeymoon luggage.”
His entire body stiffened.
“They were mine.”
Nguyen Tinh Hoa finally stood.
“Sister Kien Vi…”
“Don’t.”
I didn’t even look at her.
“This has nothing to do with you anymore.”
That sentence seemed to affect her more than an accusation would have.
She went silent.
Bui Tu Xuyen shook his head.
“No.”
He looked at To Ky Bach.
Then suddenly laughed.
“You’re angry, so you brought him here to provoke me.”
To Ky Bach said nothing.
Bui Tu Xuyen turned back to me.
“You’ve known him for years. Fine. Use him to make me jealous if you want.”
He stepped closer.
“But marriage?”
He lowered his voice.
“Kien Vi, do you know what you’re doing?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t love him.”
The lobby became quiet again.
To Ky Bach’s fingers moved slightly beside mine.
I looked at Bui Tu Xuyen.
Then answered honestly.
“Maybe not the way I loved you.”
His expression softened instantly.
He thought he had won.
Then I finished:
“But I don’t want to love you anymore.”
His face went blank.
I continued.
“Loving you made me wait outside hospitals.”
“Wait in cafés.”
“Wait in cars.”
“Wait beside wedding counters.”
“Seven years, Tu Xuyen.”
I smiled.
“I’m tired.”
The employee tapped the glass.
“If you two are registering, please sit down now. We are closing.”
To Ky Bach looked at me.
One question in his eyes.
Are you sure?
A month ago, when I had cried in his car after the seventh failed registration, he had said:
“If one day you stop waiting, turn around.”
I had thought it was only comfort.
Later, when I asked him what he meant, he had answered simply:
“I mean exactly what I said.”
I sat at counter three.
To Ky Bach sat beside me.
The employee checked our documents.
“Both registering voluntarily?”
“Yes,” To Ky Bach said.
I nodded.
“Yes.”
Behind us, Bui Tu Xuyen suddenly said:
“No.”
The employee frowned.
“Sir?”
“She can’t register.”
I turned.
His face was pale.
“She already has a marriage appointment with me.”
The employee looked confused.
“An appointment is not a marriage.”
Someone nearby coughed, hiding a laugh.
Bui Tu Xuyen didn’t seem to hear.
He walked toward me.
“Kien Vi, come outside.”
“No.”
“Five minutes.”
“No.”
His voice cracked.
“For seven years, I’ve never asked you for anything.”
I stared at him.
That was almost unbelievable.
He had asked me to wait.
To understand.
To forgive.
To cover for him.
To accept Nguyen Tinh Hoa’s emergencies.
He simply had never called those things requests.
At that moment, Nguyen Tinh Hoa suddenly spoke.
“Tu Xuyen.”
He didn’t turn.
She was holding the broken red string.
Her voice trembled.
“Maybe… you should let Sister Kien Vi go.”
Bui Tu Xuyen spun around.
“Shut up.”
Everyone froze.
Even Nguyen Tinh Hoa looked shocked.
I had never heard him speak to her that way.
He walked back toward me.
Then his eyes landed on the marriage form.
The section for my signature was already filled.
Duong Kien Vi.
His breathing became uneven.
“Kien Vi.”
I picked up the ink pad.
To Ky Bach placed his thumbprint first.
Then it was my turn.
Bui Tu Xuyen suddenly reached across the counter.
But before he could touch the document, To Ky Bach caught his arm.
“Enough.”
The two men stared at each other.
Bui Tu Xuyen whispered:
“You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?”
To Ky Bach’s answer was calm.
“Seven years.”
I looked at him.
He had never told me that.
Bui Tu Xuyen laughed bitterly.
“So that’s it.”
He looked at me.
“You prepared everything together.”
“No.”
I pressed my thumb into the red ink.
“He didn’t know I would call.”
Then I placed my fingerprint beside my signature.
The employee took the document.
Bui Tu Xuyen stared at the red mark.
As though watching something disappear forever.
The employee began entering our information.
Then she paused.
She looked at To Ky Bach’s identification.
Then at me.
Her expression became strange.
“Mr. To…”
“Yes?”
She looked toward the computer again.
“Your information shows that there is a special note attached to your marital registration record.”
To Ky Bach’s expression changed for the first time since entering.
My heart tightened.
“What note?”
The employee hesitated.
Then turned the screen slightly away from us.
“I need a supervisor.”
Bui Tu Xuyen immediately looked up.
Nguyen Tinh Hoa also stopped moving.
A minute later, the department supervisor approached, read the screen, and frowned.
Then she looked directly at me.
“Miss Duong, before we continue…”
She lowered her voice.
“There is something about Mr. To’s identity that you need to confirm first.”
To Ky Bach slowly stood.
And when I looked at him, I realized something that made my chest tighten.
He already knew exactly what she was about to say.
