https://chienphan.blogspot.com/2023/12/tinh-duyen-se-en-bat-ngo-2.html
https://doisales.com.vn/index.php/2023/12/24/tinh-duyen-se-den-bat-ngo-3/
https://doisales.com.vn/index.php/2024/01/09/tinh-duyen-se-den-bat-ngo-4/
https://doisales.com.vn/index.php/2024/01/24/tinh-duyen-se-den-bat-ngo-5/
Early in the year. A fortune-telling session. The seer declares: Love will come unexpectedly. From the time of youth to the days when counting birthdays no longer matters. The year is down to its last few days, easy to count on one hand.
She packs her backpack. Heads home. To let the exhaustion of the past year dissolve in a warm family meal. To let the noise of the outside world fade, making way for the cheerful voices of children in front of the house, demanding treats and everything that belongs to their childhood. Then she drifts into peaceful sleep. Rare. Unlike those restless midday naps disturbed by worries of survival. Escaping.
Love, wrapped in a question.
"When will you get married?" they ask.
She thinks to herself. Or maybe just repeated what the fortune teller said: Love will come unexpectedly. Who knows?
The thought alone makes her smile. Carefree. Gathering everything within her sight, under a vast sky. A space filled with people like her, waiting for a ride home. Restless.
A black-and-gold checkered shirt catches her eye. A young man, his chest rising with youthful energy, his shirt soaked in sweat teased by the sun. He stands out. While other young men pass by an elderly person who just dropped something, this one stops. Unhurried. Picks it up, carries it to the back of the bus, and even leaves behind a smile. A little sunstruck.
She finds it strange. A simple act, yet it feels familiar. Like she’d seen him before. But where? The memory is tangled, and elusive.
The thought alone makes her smile. Awkwardly. Gathering everything within her sight, through the glass frame of the bus window. She sits at the back—right next to the black-and-gold checkered shirt. Smiles. Sun-drunk.
She finds it strange. A simple act, yet it feels familiar.
She hears him speak.
Like she’s heard him before.
A slender figure with rosy cheeks, tousled hair catching the last rays of the year, amidst the hurried crowd. She wonders—will he smile at someone else, too?
The thought alone makes her smile. Foolishly. A young man who wouldn’t push past an old person, unafraid to miss a bus like every other normal guy. But no, she can’t just say that out loud. That would sound too easy. So she changes the topic.
She asks, "Where are you headed?"
He says, "Home."
She asks, "Where’s home?"
He says, "The last stop."
...
A shared ride. A shared destination.
She falls into a deep sleep, worn out by the last days of the year. When she wakes, her pillow is a shoulder wrapped in black-and-gold fabric, still carrying the warmth of sun-drenched air. She blushes. Blames the sun.
A gentle smile. "Did you sleep well?" he asks.
She blushes again. It must be the sun. Better change the topic.
She doesn’t know why, but their conversation flows endlessly, all the way to the end of the journey. Then, they part ways.
She waves. Smiles.
She wonders—will he smile at someone else, too?
After saving his contact under a self-given nickname: Golden Sunlight.
She whispers. Early in the year. A fortune-telling session. The seer will say it again—Love will come unexpectedly.
And there he is. Black-and-gold checkered shirt. Stopping by her house. Amidst the noisy children demanding treats and everything that belongs to their childhood.
Who knows?
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