The scrap of paper lay in Ha’s hand for a long time.
She read the words over and over.
**"If one day I have to leave, don't hate me."**
Just one sentence.
But it was enough to leave her entire morning feeling empty.
Ha didn't know when Minh Khoi had written it.
She didn't know whether he really intended to leave or was only talking about a possibility.
She wanted to call him.
But his phone was turned off.
She wanted to ask Gia Bao.
But he hadn't come to class either.
Ha sat by the window, looking out at the schoolyard.
Everything was just as it was every day.
The students' voices.
The sound of shoes running down the hallway.
The teacher's voice drifting over from the next room.
Only the seat beside her was empty.
And for the first time, Ha realized that an empty chair could hurt someone this much.
Three days.
Minh Khoi didn't come to school.
On the fourth day, the homeroom teacher announced:
"Minh Khoi is taking some time off because of a family matter."
The whole class erupted in whispers.
Ha lowered her head.
An Lam turned to look at her.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah."
"Did he say anything to you?"
"No."
Ha didn't mention the scrap of paper.
She didn't want to turn a private promise into the story of the whole class.
But one thing was perfectly clear in her heart.
She missed him.
She missed him so much that every time she walked into class, she instinctively looked toward the door.
She missed him so much that she still unconsciously turned toward the seat beside her during recess.
She missed him so much that every time her phone vibrated, her heart began to race.
But it was never Minh Khoi.
Just a message from her carrier.
Or homework from An Lam.
Ha gradually began to understand what it meant to wait for someone.
It wasn't always a sharp, overwhelming pain.
Sometimes it was only a dull ache.
Resting quietly in her heart.
Never disappearing.
A week later.
Ha was studying when her phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number.
**"Khoi is in the hospital."**
Ha sprang to her feet.
She called back.
No one answered.
She texted:
**"Which hospital?"**
There was no reply.
Ha stared at the screen.
Her palms turned ice-cold.
She immediately ran to the teachers' office to ask for the day off.
On the way to the hospital, she kept calling Gia Bao.
He didn't answer until the fifth time.
"Ha?"
"Where's Khoi?"
"You know already?"
"Which hospital?"
Gia Bao was silent for a few seconds.
"City Hospital."
"What happened to Khoi?"
"Not Khoi."
Ha stopped short.
"Who, then?"
"His dad."
She let out a breath of relief.
But immediately afterward, she began to worry again.
"How is he?"
"He needs surgery."
Ha said nothing.
She looked out the car window.
The winter sky was gray and bleak.
Minh Khoi sat in the hospital hallway.
His head was bowed.
His hands were clasped together.
Ha walked up to him.
He looked up.
They stared at each other.
Neither of them said anything.
A while later, Khoi stood up.
"Why did you come?"
"Gia Bao told me."
"I told him not to say anything."
"But I found out anyway."
He sighed.
"Go home."
"No."
"Ha."
"I'm not going home."
He looked at her.
"You can't help with anything by staying here."
"Then I'll sit with you."
"You don't have to."
"I do."
Khoi fell silent.
She sat down beside him.
Neither of them said anything more.
One hour.
Two hours.
Three hours.
Near dawn, the doctor came out.
The surgery had been successful.
But his father would need to be monitored for a long time.
Khoi leaned back against the wall.
He closed his eyes.
It was the first time Ha had seen him breathe such a sigh of relief.
She said softly, "It's okay now."
"Yeah."
"Khoi."
"Yeah?"
"Don't be afraid."
He turned to look at her.
"I'm not afraid."
Ha looked at his red-rimmed eyes.
"Yeah."
She didn't call him out on the lie.
After that night, the distance between them seemed to disappear.
Minh Khoi began telling Ha about things he'd never talked about before.
His family had once been very happy.
His father hadn't always been cold.
He used to take Khoi out to play soccer.
He had taught him how to ride a bike.
He had waited for him outside the school gate whenever classes ended.
But when the company began to struggle, he changed.
He became short-tempered.
He spoke less.
He was always tense.
And little by little, the distance between father and son grew.
"He wants you to study abroad?" Ha asked.
"Yeah."
"How long?"
"At least four years."
Ha fell silent.
"But you don't want to?"
"No."
"Because of me?"
Minh Khoi looked at her.
"Not only because of you."
She was a little disappointed.
He continued:
"Because I don't want to leave my mom and dad."
Ha nodded.
"Yeah."
"But if I stay, I might have to stop going to school for a while to help my family."
Ha looked at him.
"You can't."
"Why not?"
"You have to stay in school."
"My family matters more."
"But your future matters too."
Khoi gave a bitter laugh.
"You sound like my mom."
"Then listen to her."
He looked at her.
"Do you want me to go?"
Ha didn't answer.
The question hurt.
If she said no, she'd be selfish.
If she said yes, she was afraid of losing him.
In the end, she only said, "I want you to do what's best for you."
Khoi looked at her for a long time.
"But I want what's best to include you."
Ha lowered her head.
She didn't dare look at him.
She was afraid she'd cry.
That winter came quickly.
Ha began getting used to going to the hospital.
Some days she brought porridge for his mother.
Other days she brought homework for Khoi.
The two of them often met in the hallway.
Each had a loved one lying in the hospital.
They were both exhausted.
Both worried.
But whenever they met, they still forced themselves to smile.
One evening, Ha sat by the hospital window.
Khoi handed her a scarf.
"Put it on."
"I'm not cold."
"You're shivering."
Ha took it.
"You're cold too."
"I can handle it."
"Don't always say you can handle it."
Khoi looked at her.
"Then you shouldn't either."
Ha fell silent.
They looked at each other.
Then they both burst out laughing.
Maybe love at seventeen really was that simple.
There were no flowers.
No fancy dates.
Just a knitted scarf.
A box of porridge.
A single question:
**"Are you okay?"**
And someone who always answered:
**"I'm here."**
But those peaceful days didn't last.
A month later, Khoi's father was discharged from the hospital.
The company officially faced the threat of bankruptcy.
His family had to sell some of their assets.
Including the house where Khoi had grown up.
Ha found out when she saw him standing in front of the house for the last time.
"You're really selling this house?"
"Yeah."
"Are you moving?"
"I don't know yet."
Ha looked at the house.
She had never been inside.
But she knew how important this place was to him.
"Khoi."
"Yeah?"
"Are you sad?"
"Yeah."
"Then why aren't you crying?"
"Crying doesn't always solve anything."
Ha looked at him.
"But it's okay to cry too."
Minh Khoi turned toward her.
"Then cry with me."
Ha laughed.
"Idiot."
"Yeah."
He looked at the house one last time.
"Let's go."
The two of them walked away.
Neither of them knew that this would be the last time Minh Khoi stood in front of his childhood home.
A week before Lunar New Year.
Ha learned that her mother had to be hospitalized again.
This time, her condition was more serious.
Ha dropped everything to focus on school.
Every day, she stayed at the hospital.
Minh Khoi wanted to come, but Ha refused.
"You should worry about your dad."
"I can handle both."
"No."
"Ha."
"I don't want you to see me like this."
He fell silent.
Then he asked, "Why?"
"Because I'm weak."
"So what?"
"I don't want you to think I'm a burden."
Minh Khoi looked at her.
"You've never been a burden."
"But..."
"Listen to me."
He spoke slowly.
"If one day you can't stand, I'll stand beside you."
"If you can't walk, I'll walk with you."
"If you can't speak, I'll sit beside you."
Ha looked at him.
"Stop."
"Why?"
"Because I'm about to cry."
"Then cry."
Ha lowered her head.
Tears fell.
Minh Khoi stood in front of her.
He didn't hug her.
He didn't offer too much comfort.
He simply stayed there.
Just as he had once promised.
On Lunar New Year's Eve.
Ha sat in the hospital hallway.
Her phone showed 11:58 p.m.
She looked at the clock.
Minh Khoi texted:
**"Two minutes left."**
Ha smiled.
**"Yeah."**
11:59.
**"One minute."**
Ha looked through the door of the hospital room.
Her mother was asleep.
Her father sat beside her.
Ha texted:
**"What do you hope for in the new year?"**
Khoi replied:
**"I hope you and your mom stay healthy."**
Ha smiled.
**"What about you?"**
**"I'm not important."**
Ha immediately texted back:
**"Don't say that."**
A while later:
**"All right."**
**"Then what do you hope for?"**
The message arrived just as the clock turned to the new year.
**"I hope I'll still have you next year."**
Ha stared at the screen.
Tears fell.
Not because she was sad.
But because she was so happy over something so simple.
She replied:
**"Me too."**
On the first morning of the new year.
Ha woke up to the sound of her phone ringing.
It was her father.
"Ha."
"Yes?"
"Your mother..."
His voice caught.
Ha sprang up.
"Wait for me."
She ran to the hospital room.
The bed was empty.
Her mother had been moved to the emergency room.
Ha stood in front of the door.
The red light was on again.
That feeling again.
That waiting again.
But this time, Minh Khoi wasn't beside her.
She called him.
She couldn't get through.
She called a second time.
No answer.
A third time.
Still nothing.
Ha sat down.
She stared at her phone screen.
In her contacts, the name **Minh Khoi** was right at the top.
She wanted to call again.
But for some reason, she stopped.
Maybe she was starting to get scared.
Scared that something had happened to him too.
That afternoon, the doctor came out.
Ha's mother had been saved.
But her condition had become more serious.
She would need a long course of treatment.
The family needed a very large sum of money.
Ha sat beside her mother's bed.
Her mother opened her eyes.
"Sweetheart."
"I'm here."
"Don't cry."
"I'm not crying."
Her mother smiled.
"Where's your dad?"
"Outside."
"Where's Minh Khoi?"
Ha froze.
"You know him?"
"Did you think I didn't?"
Ha's eyes reddened.
Her mother gave a soft laugh.
"My daughter has fallen for someone."
Ha lowered her head.
"Yes."
"Don't let love make you suffer too much."
Ha fell silent.
She didn't know that her mother's words would become a prophecy.
Three days later.
Minh Khoi appeared.
He stood outside the hospital room.
Ha ran out to him.
"Khoi."
He didn't say anything.
He only handed her an envelope.
Ha looked at it.
"What's this?"
"Money."
She immediately shook her head.
"No."
"For your mother's treatment."
"I can't accept it."
"Take it."
"No."
"Ha."
"Your family is struggling too."
"This is money I've saved."
"You can't."
"I said, take it."
"No."
For the first time, the two of them argued.
Minh Khoi tightened his grip on the envelope.
"I want to help you."
"But I don't want you to, because of me..."
"Because of you, what?"
He looked at her.
"For you, I can do a lot of things."
Ha cried.
"But I don't want you to sacrifice yourself."
"This isn't a sacrifice."
"Then what is it?"
"It's something I'm choosing to do."
Ha looked at him.
In the end, she accepted it.
But she didn't know that the money wasn't as simple as he claimed.
She found out that night.
Gia Bao called her.
"Ha."
"Yeah?"
"You took Khoi's money?"
"Yeah."
"Do you know where it came from?"
Ha fell silent.
"Khoi sold the motorcycle his dad gave him."
She was stunned.
"That can't be."
"It's true."
Ha sat down.
That motorcycle was what Minh Khoi treasured most.
She remembered him saying:
*"My dad bought it for me when I got into high school."*
Ha looked at the envelope on the table.
Tears fell.
She called Khoi.
This time, he answered.
"Yeah?"
"You sold your motorcycle?"
Silence.
"Khoi."
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"Because your mom needs the money."
"But that was your motorcycle."
"I can buy another one."
Ha cried.
"But..."
"Don't cry."
"Khoi..."
"Yeah?"
"Thank you."
He was silent for a moment.
Then he said, "Go to sleep."
"Yeah."
"I'll come tomorrow."
"Yeah."
The call ended.
Ha hugged her phone.
She didn't know what to call this feeling.
Love?
Or companionship?
Or simply two young people trying to protect each other from a life that was far too harsh?
By the end of winter.
Ha's mother began treatment.
Khoi's father decided to sell the company.
Minh Khoi had to live with relatives for a while.
Rumors that he would study abroad were becoming increasingly certain.
One afternoon, he took Ha to the schoolyard.
The entire school was empty.
The two of them sat beneath a flamboyant tree.
Its branches were bare.
There were no blossoms left.
No buzz of cicadas.
Khoi asked, "Ha."
"Yeah?"
"If I leave..."
She turned to him.
"Will you wait for me?"
Ha was silent.
"How long?"
"Four years."
"No."
He stopped short.
"No?"
"You don't need to promise to wait."
"Then?"
Ha looked at him.
"If we still love each other, waiting will happen naturally."
Minh Khoi lowered his head.
"Yeah."
Ha asked, "What about you?"
"I'll come back."
"Are you sure?"
"I am."
"How long?"
"Four years."
Ha smiled.
"Don't promise."
"I'm not promising."
He looked at her.
"I'm telling you."
Ha looked back at him.
Neither of them knew that four years later, when they met again, so much would have changed.
They would no longer be seventeen-year-old kids.
They would no longer sit beside the window.
They would no longer be able to say so easily:
**"I'll be here."**
Because growing up sometimes made people stronger.
But it also made them understand that some promises couldn't be fulfilled through love alone.
The last day before Minh Khoi left.
Ha stood at the school gate.
He carried a suitcase.
He didn't have much.
Just a few changes of clothes and some books.
Ha gave him a small box.
"For you."
Khoi opened it.
Inside was an umbrella-shaped keychain.
He laughed.
"An umbrella?"
"Yeah."
"What does it mean?"
"Remember the first day."
Khoi looked at the keychain.
Then he took something from his pocket and placed it in her hand.
A scrap of paper.
Ha opened it.
It was the first scrap of paper.
**"Don't be sad today."**
She looked up.
"You kept it?"
"Yeah."
"Then why are you giving it to me?"
"Because I think you should keep it."
Ha gripped the scrap of paper tightly.
"Khoi."
"Yeah?"
"Don't forget me."
He looked at her.
"Never."
The car pulled away.
Ha stayed where she was.
She didn't run after it.
She didn't cry.
She only stood there watching until the car disappeared.
Only when she couldn't see anything anymore did she lower her head.
Tears fell.
She opened the scrap of paper one more time.
The words were still there.
**"Don't be sad today."**
But for the first time, Ha couldn't obey.
That winter came to an end.
One person left.
One person stayed behind.
They both thought four years wouldn't be too long.
They thought all they had to do was try.
All they had to do was love each other.
All they had to do was remember each other.
Then the day they reunited would still be just like today.
But they didn't yet understand that distance wasn't measured only in cities.
It was also measured in the years that changed people.
And four years later...
Ha would receive a phone call.
A call that would make her understand that some promises were spoken with complete sincerity—
but could still be torn apart by life.
**Four years of separation began that day.**
And that was also the day their seventeen-year-old love entered its greatest trial.