“Yesterday, when I stopped at Tram Suong, I think I saw Nhien there.” His friend called to ask about work, casually adding a sentence like that, not knowing that it had triggered Duẩn’s search. For the past three years, there have been times when Duẩn has been exhausted with this search. He thought maybe Nhien was playing hide and seek when occasionally a few traces appeared somewhere. The traces were vague, but in the eyes of a lover, they would be related to Nhien. Like when he was surfing Facebook and saw a photo of his friend traveling to a small house in a mountain town somewhere, on the porch drying a child’s floral dress, Duẩn was sure that Nhien was there. Simply because the day she left, she took little Bong with her wearing the same floral dress. His friend laughed and said, clothes bought online have thousands of each model, so there are many people wearing them, searching like that is like looking for a needle in a haystack. Another time, he accidentally surfed TikTok and saw someone filming a train leaving the station, the train window showing a quarter-side view of the woman’s face. Just a few short seconds were enough to make Duẩn frantically search the train platforms. By the time Duẩn realized he was only looking for birds and fish, the familiar scent on the handkerchief Nhien left behind had also faded.

Six years ago, Nhien brought a three-year-old girl to knock on the door of a rented room on a stormy night. The “room for rent” sign was blown to the ground by the wind, covered with dust. The thin umbrella in Nhien’s hand was constantly blown back by the wind. The child, despite being covered, was still wet, looking up at Duan with big round eyes. In her small hands, trembling with cold, she still hugged a gray teddy bear. Duan opened the door of the last rented room at the end of the row for Nhien and her mother. The old tenant had just moved out and had not yet cleaned up. Duan said: “Turn on the hot water so you two can take a bath, don’t catch a cold. Clean the house later, if you need anything, just call.” That night, the child had a fever, Nhien knocked on the door and asked if he had any fever-reducing medicine. The child woke up from the fever and looked at the bowl of instant noodles on the table, swallowing his saliva. Duan searched his pocket for a lollipop left in the house since Tet. Nhien and her mother’s arrival made Duan’s single life even busier.

Duẩn is ​​a painter and has a small studio at home. He lives with his old mother, who all he likes to do is pickle vegetables and talk to cats. Sometimes she complains that the house is so boring that it would be nice to have more children and grandchildren. Although the house has two rows of rented rooms, they are both busy. They work all day, come home late at night, and then go into their room and close the door to rest, not wanting to talk. Since Nhien and her mother came back, the old woman has been much happier. Sometimes, Nhien leaves little Bong for her to look after so she can go somewhere and doesn't come back until dark. Nhien's job is to write content, edit, consult and support publishing, and accept book writing projects. When she takes her eyes off the computer screen, Nhien often sits and chats with the old woman about all sorts of things. Sometimes she sits and threads a needle to help Duẩn and her mother sew loose clothes. Sometimes she sits and helps her cut vegetables and vegetables, talking about the countryside, stirring up the nostalgia of an old person. Sometimes, Nhien would sit on a chair to dye the old lady's hair, and many people would tease her, "I thought she was my daughter-in-law." Nhien would smile shyly, not knowing that there was a pair of eyes always secretly watching her from the studio window.

Little Bong loved the cat so much that she played with it all day without getting bored. The old lady often waited for the street vendor to pass by, using the coins from selling melons to buy gifts for Bong. Sometimes the little girl would peek into the studio, Duẩn would give her a piece of white paper and a box of colored pencils and she would sit there obediently all day. Duẩn noticed that recently when going to the market, his mother bought more things. The medium-sized pots that had been stored in the cupboard for a long time were taken out to replace the small pots that were still enough for the two of them to eat. Sometimes she asked Duẩn to bring Nhien and her mother a bowl of sour soup, a plate of braised fish, or some hot corn that had just been taken out. Sometimes the old lady would slowly say a few sentences, pretending to be talking to herself, but only so that someone else could hear. "If only I could eat from one tray, I wouldn't have to carry it back and forth." Duẩn could only laugh and blame his mother, saying that people who had been here for less than a year knew how shallow their hearts were, yet they were already taking it personally. "What, when it comes to judging people, I'm still far from being as good as this old lady." But the old lady did not see Nhien's thoughts. She came to this city with no intention of staying long. If she could not find someone, she would take the child and leave. Like a boat setting sail to find another shore.

- But who is she really looking for?

- Well… she went to find her child's father.

The old lady said that, absentmindedly looking at the painting of a cat that Bong left for her. She kept muttering, “Why didn’t you let her finish her cup of tofu pudding and leave? Why did you have to rush her away like she was running away from a debt?” Well, it was true that she was running away from a debt. She didn’t owe money or silver, but Nhien felt she owed a debt of gratitude. She owed the thoughtfulness and expectations of an old man. She owed the dream of a warm family that Duẩn had once hinted at to her. One day, looking into the studio, Nhien saw Duẩn sitting motionless in front of an unfinished painting. She realized that the woman in the painting was none other than herself. This city was not the first place, nor the last place Nhien and her mother would live. She didn’t want to make anyone miss her, to be attached to her, to make them suffer. When she dragged her child away, a certain sadness and regret rose in Nhien’s heart. Nhien wondered if she was running away from Duẩn or from herself? Was it true that she had nothing to miss about this place?

***

According to your story, just go along Highway 6, Tram Suong will appear on the road to Da Trang Pass. It is a restaurant for tourists to rest. That is the only clue, nothing more. Maybe the person you met was Nhien. Maybe Tram Suong was just a short-term resting place. When you arrived, Nhien had probably left without leaving any trace. Who knows, even the owner of the station, after thinking for a long time, could not remember a girl with shoulder-length hair, dimples, leading a child of about eight years old. That's right, who knows, Nhien had cut her hair short. Who knows, when she sat at the station, she did not smile, so how could you see her dimples? Who knows, little Bong has grown up like a young woman now. Every time Duan's mother saw her son closing the studio to prepare for a trip, she would leave a few handfuls of candy on the car. "If you see Bong, remember to give her some. Which child does not like candy?" Gradually the tray in the car was full of candy but the old lady still couldn't find Bong.

The car passed by and Duan just realized that Tram Suong was lying quietly by the roadside. Not flashy and ostentatious, Tram was like an indigenous girl sitting on a rocky slope. Her back was turned to the road, her face was turned to the mountain, and below the valley rose layers of white clouds. Duan stepped into Tram, feeling a sense of familiarity that was hard to describe in words. When the door closed, all the noise from the national highway was blocked out, a separate world appeared. On the reception desk, a vase of wild banana flowers seemed to gather the earth and sky to make it red. Tram did not play music, but all the natural sounds here made him feel comfortable. The staff member stepped out and asked softly:

- What do you need?

- I need to find someone.

- Looking for someone?

- Yes! But first give me a cup of filter coffee.

- Coffee will be right there, but who do you need?

- The woman was over thirty years old, with dimples. She was carrying an 8-year-old girl named Bong.

The waitress was stunned for a moment, then smiled, without saying anything more, and quietly went inside. The sound of the wind chimes did not startle the little cat. It lay peacefully sleeping on the brocade skirt on the table. Outside, the clouds rose high, covering the balcony chairs. The waitress came out and politely placed a cup of chrysanthemum tea in front of him.

- I ordered coffee.

- If you have a stomach ache, you should not drink coffee. Chamomile tea mixed with a little honey has the effect of cooling, anti-inflammatory, and preventing stomach spasms.

Duẩn raised his head and looked as if asking, was she here? Nhiên had said the same thing many times when he saw the cup of coffee he made by the window of the studio. Because she had heard the old lady complain that her son had a stomach problem and didn't eat or sleep on time. Once Nhiên brought home a package of chrysanthemum tea and told him to try drinking this, maybe he would like it. He had thought that those flower teas were only suitable for women and could not help him sublimate his emotions. It wasn't until Nhiên and her mother left that he made himself a cup of chrysanthemum tea.

There was a woman secretly looking at Duẩn from behind. Still the same thin figure, dressed simply, sitting with her head bowed as if she was deep in thought. That back had bent down many times to help Bong put on slippers, fix some broken things in the rented room. That hand had taught Bong many times to be friends with colors, touched her feverish forehead, timidly handed Nhien a snack he had bought somewhere on the roadside. There were simple, ordinary things that only became warm and precious when they were far away. Nhien had been absorbed in searching for something that did not belong to her. Until she realized who truly loved her. That was when Bong, in the middle of her fever, called out Duẩn’s name. It was when sitting on the train, seeing everything rushing by, Bong absentmindedly looked at the pebble with a smiley face that Duẩn had given her that day. It was the moment Bong asked: “When will we return to the old house? I wonder what grandma is doing now, Mom? Does Uncle Duan still remember me?” Nhien realized that she did not need a father who had abandoned her in her mother’s womb.

Duẩn did not know that Nhiên was still following him through his statuses or a few rare photos posted on Facebook. Duẩn also did not know that when his friend stopped at Tram Suong, Nhiên deliberately left traces because he knew that his lover would come looking for him. Just by looking up at the place where Duẩn was sitting, one could recognize the familiar strokes on the newly hung painting. Bong painted a family of four gathered in a small yard, where the old lady often sat to light a charcoal stove to cook fish. The tabby cat lay curled up in Bong's bag. Bong said that in all the places he had stopped, he would leave behind a painting of his. So that if Duẩn went looking for him, he would know how to follow the traces...

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