Highland morning

Illustration: Phan Nhan

The car slowly crawled down the slope and stopped next to a cluster of ivy that formed a flower gate leading to a small, pretty homestay nestled in the middle of a windy pine forest. Hoang shouldered his faded backpack and slowly walked down, the cold air quickly seeping through his several layers of clothes and hitting his skin. 5:15. Hoang put his hands in his coat pockets and walked towards the reception desk. The bus slowly spewed smoke and soon disappeared into the thick fog.

In the distance, the sound of roosters crowing late still lingered. The cool night air seemed to linger on the climbing roses, giving off a gentle fragrance. Hoang lifted his nose and inhaled the sweet scent, filling his chest; the wild nature of the mountain town seemed to wash away all the dust from the hours spent on the bus, as well as the smell of morphine and hospital disinfectants from the past week.

Remembering last week, while preparing dinner, Hoang's mother collapsed from a sudden bout of stomach pain. He arrived just in time because his mother called: "Your uncle is away on a business trip, the house is so sad, come and have dinner with your siblings and mother". Hoang's father died early after a serious illness, his mother remarried, Hoang went to live with his grandparents since he was thirteen. His mother's new family looked quite happy and loving. Hoang should not appear as an extra character, disturbing that beautiful life.

Panicking and calling for an ambulance, Hoang followed his mother to the hospital. If this unexpected incident had not happened, after dinner, which was the last time the mother and son had sat together for a long time, Hoang would have taken a bus to the highlands. There was a girl who always looked forward to taking him back to the city of fog and flowers blooming all year round.

As soon as he arrived at the hospital, his mother was diagnosed with an ultrasound and immediately had surgery. Acute appendicitis. Hoang went to pay the hospital bill and sign the paperwork. He had to pay a large sum of money in advance. After pressing the transfer button, Hoang's account balance was only a few dollars. Luckily, he still had some money to deal with when he needed it. Returning to the waiting area, Hoang dropped into a chair, listening to the heavy ticking of the wall clock.

Working as a freelance photographer, Hoang has been busy with a tight schedule recently. Although he graduated from school with a degree in architecture, Hoang has an endless passion for capturing slices of nature, people and life. The work was quite slow at first, but after winning prestigious awards in the country, more and more customers booked Hoang's schedule. Many couples liked the style and shooting angles of this logical guy so much that they trusted Hoang to take their wedding photos.

Seeing her son studying in one place and working in another, Hoang's mother often asked: "Do you make enough to live on?" Hoang smiled: "My grandparents have a pension, I only support myself so it's not too bad." Mother held Hoang's hand and said: "I've always saved some money. When you want to open a studio, tell me." Hoang shook his head and told his mother to keep it for protection. Although he didn't visit her often, Hoang knew that he depended on his uncle, and his mother was not comfortable. He gave his mother a small amount of money each month to cover daily bills. His uncle said that he was the boss so she didn't have to go to work, she just had to stay home to cook, go to the market and take care of the two children. Although she was the boss, his mother rarely attended company parties or receptions at his uncle's lavish and luxurious places.

In the name of love and bondage, Hoang knew that life could not be comfortable. In order to save some money, his mother had to cut back on regular health checkups and self-care. Whenever Hoang came, if his uncle was home, he would often try to act hospitable by sitting and talking to him the whole time. Actually, it was because his uncle did not want Hoang to have much time alone with his mother. Once, Hoang accidentally heard his mother scold his uncle: "What are you guarding against?" His uncle sneered: "If not, this family's property will be smuggled to another family."

Trying to maintain a normal mother-son relationship that had long been divided, Hoang once asked: "Is living with your uncle okay?" Mom was stunned for a moment, then nodded and said: "I'm fine." Hoang reassured her: "I've always been independent, don't worry. As for the studio, I'll try to save up for a few years and then open it, it's not too late."

Waiting until midnight, Mom was finally transferred to the recovery room. Standing from the fourth floor corridor of the hospital, I could still see the brightly lit cable-stayed bridge in the distance, and the streets below were dotted with cars and people. In the outer room, the nurses and night-shift caregivers were playing soft music and talking and laughing softly.

Hearing that his mother was hospitalized, his uncle from Europe arranged his work to fly back as soon as possible. Even so, it was two days before he landed at the airport. When he saw Hoang, he asked indifferently: "Are you okay?" Hoang nodded. Just waiting for that, he pretended to be urgent, walked past his wife's stepchild, and dragged his suitcase into the hospital room. When he arrived, he anxiously went to the bedside of his mother who had just dozed off a little, and asked: "How are you feeling?" Her face and lips were pale as she whispered: "I'm fine". Then there were a few more people in the hospital room, and his uncle loudly complained: "Why did Hoang bring you here? You should have been in Vinmec or Hoan My." Then his uncle talked about his busyness, hoping his mother would understand because in the past few days he had to go meet this client, that partner. All of them were big shots. He had to receive them at the most luxurious and expensive restaurants and hotels in Europe. The short trip had cost my uncle tens of thousands of dong. While my uncle was talking nonsense, my mother remained silent, facing the wall. A stream of salty water gently fell down.

I remember when I first got married to my mother, my uncle once cautiously asked Hoang to come live with him. He affirmed that with his strength, he could take care of Hoang's education at an international school. Hoang politely told me that his father was an only child, and that after his father passed away, his grandparents only had Hoang to rely on. Seeing Hoang in and out helped them somewhat ease their longing for their short-lived child. When my uncle heard that, he tried to look sad, but as soon as Hoang turned away, he curled his lips: "Luckily, you know what to do."

Even though his uncle had already returned, Hoang stayed until his mother was discharged from the hospital. That was yesterday morning. After a long holiday, everyone had started going back to work. Hoang stopped by his grandparents' house to have dinner, at noon he met his friends for coffee, in the evening he stopped by to check on his mother's health again, told her a few things, then took a Grab to the bus station.

And now Hoang was here. The silence was gradually fading, the light of day was becoming brighter. While he was absorbed in his chaotic thoughts, the receptionist opened the door, politely wishing Hoang a good day.

The room was as small as a bird's nest with a view of the pine forest. Hoang waited for the first rays of sunlight to appear, then he couldn't wait any longer and went straight to Du Nhien Farm, where Thoa's family ran a fruit farm and a small beverage shop.

From afar, he could see the cheerful figure of a girl sitting at her coffee shop in the morning. It had been 2 years since the first time they met, but Hoang felt like it was just yesterday that he had brought his camera to the graduation photoshoot of a group of Tourism students about to graduate. At that time, Thoa went to Hoang's hometown, the coastal city, to study at university. During the photoshoot, although he didn't start a conversation, the photographer's eyes kept looking up and his heart fluttered before the gentle, reserved, yet wild beauty of the girl who seemed to have stepped out from the depths of the forest.

A short time later, on the photography journey, Hoang coincidentally met Thoa again. It was a sunny morning, Hoang went to Cu Lao Cham to hunt for photos of the brilliant parasol flowers in the blue sea and white sand. And in the unplanned scene, an innocent girl threw red and pink flowers into the sky. In a flash, Hoang pressed the record button. When she realized that the person who secretly took the photo was the photographer who took the yearbook for her class a while ago, Thoa pretended to make things difficult for him. She mischievously promised to forgive Hoang if he took a few more beautiful photos of her to bring back to the mountain town.

From strangers to acquaintances in a flash. And even though they had secretly liked each other for over a year, thinking about his life as a vagabond without a complete family made Hoang hesitate to say it. But time and opportunity never wait for anyone. Without a complete family, Hoang wished even more to give the girl he loved a complete family. Hoang's job was now more stable with a regular flow of customers. He was still waiting for a suitable occasion to officially confess his love.

When she saw the young man suddenly appear, holding her favorite yellow salem bouquet and smiling meaningfully, Thoa was stunned for a long time. The coffee tray in her hand was shaking, Hoang quickly came to take it and brought it to the couple who were still waiting. Standing next to Thoa, still not over her surprise, Hoang handed her the morning flower bouquet, his voice mischievous: "If the owner accepts, I will be your servant for the rest of my life."

Thoa received the flowers so that her hands were contained in her hands. Her cheeks were red, and she shyly bowed her head.

But silence means agreement.

Source: https://baolamdong.vn/van-hoa-nghe-thuat/202506/buoi-sang-cao-nguyen-59d7537/