Late at night, the hospital room was quiet, as if even time itself was holding its breath.
Bach Lan sat beside Trach Dong's bed. He was in a deep sleep, his face pale, but his breathing had steadied. The soft glow of the bedside lamp fell gently on his face, easing some of the worry that weighed on her heart.
Her gaze drifted to the small bag at the head of the bed, where he always kept his old notebook. A tiny, seemingly insignificant thing, yet it was always right next to him.
She picked it up and flipped through the pages. The first section was all work schedules, notes about the company, names of partners neatly listed, disciplined, dry, just like the exterior he always showed to the world.
But then, amid the orderly lines, a messy, hurried handwriting caught her eye. The words were tilted, rushed, like they were written when his mind was tangled and restless:
"Day 51, in a dream, lying on an icy lake. A voice called through the mist, 'Bach Nhi'. I woke up, my heart aching as if I had lost something precious."
On the next page:
"Today, she smiled at me. A polite, distant smile... but somehow it made my heart race. Why do I feel this strange, unfamiliar flutter?"
Bach Lan held her breath. Those vague feelings she'd carried for so long, the times her heart raced when she looked into his eyes, it turned out she wasn't the only one bearing traces from a past life.
She flipped quickly toward the back of the notebook. A loose sheet tucked in the last cover slipped out. The handwriting wasn't Trach Dong's. The paper had yellowed, ink faded, but the first line made her whole-body shiver:
"Reincarnation does not erase memories. They are only sealed. When emotions grow strong enough, the deepest layers of the soul begin to stir."
"Nothing is accidental. Even the fact that the two of you meet again... has been arranged."
Bach Lan's hand trembled in shock.
Who... who had written these lines?
Why did he have it?
And if everything really had been set on this "trajectory" as the note said, then her life, her love, her losses, her suffering... even this reunion was any of it truly her choice?
She bit her lip, the thin paper between her cold fingers.
No. If someone was pulling the strings, she needed to know.
The top-floor balcony of the hospital. That night, the sky was moonless, clouds drifting like smoke. The wind tore through, tangling Bach Lan's hair. The paper in her hand was crumpled and worn, but she refused to let it go. Standing in the vast emptiness, she lifted her head:
"Where are you?" – She called out, her voice low and steady. – "You interfered with reincarnation. You've been watching us. Show yourself."
A long silence stretched on. Then a swirl of white mist rose from the void. In an instant, the air turned sharply cold.
A figure appeared, faceless, draped in a silver robe, hair long and ash-like, eyes pale and hollow like a frozen winter lake.
The God of Reincarnation.
He said nothing, simply standing there as if he had waited for this moment for centuries.
"Did you write the letter?"
"No." – He replied, his voice echoing like it came from the void itself. – "But I am the keeper of the reincarnation paths. I know everything."
"Why allow this to happen? Why must he... and I... go through all these cycles?"
The God of Reincarnation did not blink.
"Because he begged." – He said slowly. – "He only wanted to see you again... to love once more, from the very beginning."
Bach Lan's heart ached, and she forced out a bitter, lopsided smile.
"So... it was all because of Trach Dong?"
Bach Lan no longer flinched, her voice soft but firm:
"You let me remember... also to choose again. So now, what do you want?"
The God of Reincarnation studied her for a long moment, his eyes reflecting the shattered moon.
"I want nothing. This time it is your choice, and it will be the last."
"The last?" – She murmured, frowning slightly.
"Reincarnation does not last forever. The threads of karma between you have run dry. If you choose wrong this time..." – He paused, letting the weight of his words hang. – "There will be no next life to fix it."
A cold, spectral wind swept by, like destiny whispering in her ear.
But Bach Lan did not waver. She stepped forward, gripping the letter tightly, her gaze unwavering.
"Then all the more reason to choose correctly."
"This time... I choose him."
The God of Reincarnation remained silent. The wind stilled, and then he slowly dissolved into the mist, leaving behind one final warning:
"Very well. Then walk the path you have chosen to the end."
Many days later, the evening light quietly spilled over her slender shoulders, across a face still damp with tears. She said nothing, sitting there in silence as if waiting for something that seemed far away, until...
A faint movement.
Bach Lan lifted her head, eyes wide with disbelief, staring at her hand.
Was it a trick of her imagination?
No! It was real. His hand had moved.
Trach Dong was trying to reach for her hand.
"Trach Dong?" – She whispered, her voice trembling with a spark of hope.
His eyelids twitched, then very slowly, ever so slowly... they opened.
Those familiar gray-ash eyes, gentle and soft, now reflected her figure like a small flame in the cold winter day.
He looked at her, a gaze that spoke without words.
Bach Lan could no longer hold back her tears. She cried like a child.
"You're awake... you're really awake! Trach Dong, you scared me so much."
Trach Dong tried to speak, but his throat was dry. All he could do was grip her hand, fragile but steadfast, as if never wanting to let go.
"Sleep... I'm here." – She murmured, bowing her head to place a soft kiss on the back of his hand. – "I won't leave anymore, no matter who you are, whatever the past was, or what the future holds. I'll stay."
Trach Dong's gaze softened. No words, no grand gestures, just the warmth of his hand was enough for her to know he understood.
And his heart, too, was beginning to awaken.
One day, the sky was gray and heavy, fine drizzle blurring the glass that separated two worlds: on one side, freedom; on the other, a darkness with no escape.
Trach Hien sat across from her, hands cuffed, eyes shadowed with sleepless nights, yet still wearing a forced arrogance, as if nothing could touch the pride that had long been fractured. But when he saw her step into the room, a faint glimmer flickered in those eyes.
Bach Lan pulled a chair and sat down, her gaze calm and still like a winter lake.
"This is the last time I'll come to see you." – She said, her voice light but cold, like wind cutting through stone walls.
Trach Hien gave a bitter, thin smile, trying to hide the sting: "Are you here to mock me? To say I deserve it?"
She shook her head.
"I'm here to make one thing clear... all the injustices you've shouted about your whole life, you brought upon yourself."
Trach Hien froze.
"You said your mother was belittled. That's true. But she knew Trach Dong's father already had a wife and still interfered. She gave birth to you, not out of love, but to fight for status, to claim a share of the inheritance. She brought you into the family estate, fully aware of what life would be like in the Trach household, but she wanted your father to accept you as his heir."
"You said life was unfair. But what about Trach Dong? He had a happy family, a father, a mother. If it weren't for your mother interfering in that marriage, he would have had a complete family. And at that time, he was just a child. What crime did he commit?"
Bach Lan's hand clenched around Trach Hien's, nails digging into his skin.
"You said no one ever loved you." – She lifted her eyes to his, cold and unyielding, tears gone from her gaze. – "But when I trusted you, when I truly loved you, what did you do?"
Her voice caught for a moment, then she continued, each word carving into old wounds:
"You used me. You turned my trust into a tool. You made me help harm Trach Dong, a man who never wronged you once."
Trach Hien shouted: "From the start, his existence was wrong! He had everything! Love, power, family, even you! Why did he get it all?!"
Bach Lan stood, looking at him like a lost soul who had gone too far.
"Because he didn't steal it. He earned it with effort and sincerity. And you... you only know hate, only know comparison... to the point you've lost all conscience."
Trach Hien laughed hoarsely, voice rough, lost: "So I was wrong?! In the end, you still chose him."
"Yes. But not because he has everything... because he never betrayed me."
She turned and walked away, never looking back.
Behind the cold iron door, only fragmented screams remained, fading gradually... like the last ghost being buried in the sins and tragedies it had created.
At Trach Dong's private mansion, the room was so quiet that the ticking of the wall clock seemed unnaturally loud. The late afternoon sun filtered through the thin curtains, casting a soft golden hue over Trach Dong's half-closed eyes.
The door opened quietly. A servant bowed slightly, then slipped to the side.
A lady entered, her hair neatly styled, a long ash-colored dress flowing elegantly. In her hands, she carried a bag of herbal medicine and a box of steaming hot porridge.
Trach Dong opened his eyes, his voice husky:
"Mother... you're here."
She did not answer immediately. She walked over to the bedside table, set down the items, and glanced around the room.
"You wouldn't come home." – She said softly, a hint of reproach in her tone. – "You got shot and didn't let anyone know, then secretly hid here to recover."
He closed his eyes for a moment, then replied:
"I didn't want to make a scene."
She sighed, pulling a chair close to the bed. After a pause, she spoke again, her voice calm but firm:
"Do you remember what I told you before, Trach Dong?"
He remained silent.
"I said Trach Hien is not simple. As the heir, there are matters you must see beyond mere blood ties. But what about you?"
Her hand tightened slightly.
"And now? You were shot, he's been captured, no one in this house is safe. And the media... they're just waiting to tear everything apart."
The atmosphere in the room grew heavy, almost suffocating.
After a long pause, her voice returned, deeper this time, losing its sharpness but carrying a quiet disappointment:
"And I've heard... you're entangling yourself with that girl from the PR department. What kind of sense is there in this?"
He remained silent.
She looked at him again, her gaze no longer stern but filled with the deep worry of a mother watching her child teeter on the edge of a cliff.
"Do you know what people are saying about her? A girl who just appeared out of nowhere, involved in so much chaos. No family, no background, no foundation. What is she that makes you risk everything like this?"
He answered softly, eyes still fixed on the white ceiling:
"She's the one I want to marry."
"Trach Dong..." – She pressed her voice gently, as if trying to convince him one last time. – "You're still young, you don't see the consequences yet. A woman can drag your entire life into the abyss with just one step."
Only then did he turn to face his mother, his voice calm but firm:
"But there are also people who, simply by being beside you, make the abyss no longer something to fear."
"You're blinded." – She snapped, losing her composure for a moment.
"No." – He said decisively, shaking his head. – "I've never been more clear-headed."
She studied him for a long moment. Something in her eyes softened, not acceptance, but the helplessness of a mother who cannot stop her child from stepping into the fire they have chosen.
Finally, she stood, her voice no longer rigid:
"If you've made your choice... I only hope... that she never gives you reason to regret it."
Trach Dong smiled faintly:
"Even if I do, it will still be my choice."
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