Chapter 45: The Good Days
Dinh Bac and
Phuong Nga settled into the work quickly.
They were put on
the same team, tasked with reviewing and reorganizing trial files that had been
shunted through several generations of storage systems.
Dinh Bac had an
eye for numbers that didn’t sit right.
Phuong Nga was
meticulous with every page, every file code, every date stamp. Wherever he had
a doubt, she went hunting for the original to check it against. Wherever she
was burning too much time, he narrowed the field down for her.
In those first
days they spoke about almost nothing but the work.
“This file’s
missing a page.”
Phuong Nga dropped
the stack in front of him.
Dinh Bac glanced
at the sequence numbers.
“It isn’t
missing. Whoever entered the data filed it under the code next to it.”
“You’re sure?”
“Pull file one
hundred twenty-six and compare.”
Phuong Nga found
the exact stack he’d named. The missing page was sitting inside it.
She looked up at
him.
“Do you have
every code memorized?”
“No.”
“Then how did you
know?”
“The figures in
the two files run on from each other. They filed it wrong and forgot to fix the
date.”
Phuong Nga double-checked
and nodded.
“You’re good at
this.”
Dinh Bac didn’t
look away from his screen.
“I’m aware.”
She bit back a
laugh.
“I pay you one
compliment and you can’t manage even a little modesty?”
“It’s not every
day a woman compliments me. Let me enjoy it.”
She didn’t answer
that. But from that day on, she got used to the way he talked, blunt on the
surface, and never anything but straight.
And he got used
to having someone in the chair beside his.
Phuong Nga never
asked about his past. She was never curious about the faint scars on his face.
When his eyes forced him to stop, she’d simply pull the blinds partway or swap
a paper document for the digital copy so he could magnify it.
She did all of it
so naturally that it never once felt like pity.
One afternoon she
had to leave early for the hospital. Her work wasn’t finished, and she started
packing part of it to take home.
Dinh Bac pulled
the stack out of her hands.
“Company files
don’t leave the building.”
“I know. But it’s
due first thing tomorrow.”
“Leave it. I’ll
finish it.”
“It’s my share.”
“You’ve already
cross-checked nearly all of it. All that’s left is entering the results, isn’t
it?”
Phuong Nga
hesitated.
“You don’t have
to do this for me.”
“I’d just rather
the whole team didn’t get chewed out tomorrow morning over a missing section.”
There wasn’t a
scrap of warmth in the way he said it. But when she came in the next day, her
section had been squared away, and every uncertain entry had been flagged for
her to verify.
Phuong Nga set a
cup of warm water on his desk.
“Thank you.”
Dinh Bac looked
at the cup.
“For what?”
“You know what.”
“I did the team’s
work.”
“Then thank you
for looking after the team.”
Phuong Nga went
back to her desk.
Dinh Bac watched
her go, and felt something in his chest ease. And the fact that it had eased at
all irritated him.
That evening at
home, he asked Hoa the same question he always asked.
“Anything on An
Nhien and Dong?”
Hoa shook her
head.
“Everywhere we
can access has come back empty.”
“Keep looking.”
“I am looking.”
Dinh Bac fell
silent.
Hoa studied him.
“How’s the job?
Settling in all right?”
“It’s fine.”
Hoa didn’t push.
Dinh Bac went
into his study and opened the private file marked Tran An Nhien.
Six years of
searching had never produced a single lead worth the name. And he still
believed there would come a day when he found her.
At Truong Sinh,
Phuong Nga was starting to draw attention for how hard and how quietly she
worked. Among those who noticed was Huu Tri, the second son of the man who held
the reins of the group, and an executive director in his own right.
Huu Tri met her
for the first time during a progress review of the departments.
He asked her a
few questions about the work. She answered plainly, without fawning and without
trying to charm him. After that day, Huu Tri began turning up in the data
division far more often than he used to.
Sometimes he came
down over something he could have handed to an assistant. Sometimes he’d spend
a couple of minutes with the team lead, then turn and ask Phuong Nga a question
or two.
Nobody in that
room missed what it meant.
Phuong Nga kept
her distance regardless.
He invited her to
dinner. She declined, she had the hospital.
He offered to
drive her. She declined that too.
“I can get myself
there.”
“It’s on my way.”
“Thank you,
Director, but there’s no reason for you to spend your time on my private
business.”
Huu Tri looked at
her for a moment, then smiled.
“All right. I
won’t push.”
And he meant it.
No sulking, no leaning on his position to force the issue.
A few days later,
he turned up at the place where she was living.
Mr. Son opened
the door, found a well-dressed man standing outside, and called her out.
Phuong Nga
stopped short when she saw who it was.
“How did you know
where I live?”
“It’s the address
on your personnel file.”
Phuong Nga stayed
in the doorway and made no move to invite him in.
“I hear your
brother is in long-term treatment. Truong Sinh has connections all through the
industry. If you need it, I can help you find a specialist, or cover part of
the cost.”
Her hand
tightened slightly at her side.
Those hospital
bills were pressing down on her a little harder every day. One nod, and the
months ahead would be so much easier.
She shook her
head anyway.
“Thank you. I can
manage.”
“There’s no need
to feel awkward about it.”
“I’m not
uncomfortable. I just don’t want to take help from you personally.”
Huu Tri
understood her perfectly.
“You’re afraid of
being in my debt?”
Phuong Nga looked
straight at him.
“I’m afraid of
taking on debts when I don’t know what I’ll be asked to pay later.”
The smile faded
slowly from his face. He wasn’t angry. He just nodded.
“Understood.”
Before he turned
to go, he added, “When you truly need it, the offer still stands.”
Phuong Nga stood
outside the door and watched the car until it disappeared past the mouth of the
alley before she went back in.
In the days that
followed, Huu Tri didn’t give up.
Huu Tri still
paid attention, still pursued her quietly, and never once pressured her to say
yes.
Phuong Nga knew
what he felt was real.
It was only that
life had taught her a hard lesson: not every honest heart is one you have the
right to accept.
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