That day at the office, Bach Lan deliberately took the long way around, avoiding the places where she might run into Trach Hien. All morning her eyes were distant, her thoughts scattered. The words he had spoken the other night still lingered, clinging like ink that had not yet dried.
Trach Hien seemed to notice. A flicker of disappointment crossed his eyes, though he said nothing.
A few times their paths crossed in the hallway. She avoided his gaze. Each time, he only gave her a faint smile, never pressing, never questioning. But his silence carried a patience that weighed on her, making her feel as if she were the one at fault.
Two days later, while she was standing by the coffee machine in the break room, Trach Hien walked in.
"You've been... avoiding me lately." – He said.
His tone was calm, yet in his eyes there was a shadow of quiet sadness.
Her hand trembled, spilling a few drops of hot coffee across her skin. He was at her side in an instant, offering her a tissue, every movement careful, as though he didn't want to add to her discomfort.
"I'm sorry if what I said the other night made things awkward for you."
"No..." – She shook her head quickly, her gaze dropping, her voice soft as a passing breeze. – "It's not that. I just... need a little time."
He nodded once, accepting her answer, and asked no more.
From that day on, he no longer spoke with the same intensity, but his presence lingered near her in a quiet, natural way. Sometimes it was as simple as carrying a stack of documents for her, sometimes it was a warm cup of tea when the wind turned cold.
He never asked for anything, never pushed. Every gesture was as light as a passing breeze enough to remind her she was not alone, but never enough to feel like chains.
Little by little, the anxiety inside her began to soften. Bach Lan wasn't sure if it was because her feelings were truly growing, or if she was simply too tired of keeping her guard up. Yet each time he smiled, that smile scattered the mist clouding her heart.
One evening after work, he was waiting for her in the lobby. Rain drifted outside the glass, and he held out an umbrella toward her.
"Shall we go home together?" – He asked, his eyes calm, without force.
She hesitated for a few seconds, then nodded gently.
She didn't know why she didn't refuse. Maybe it was the sincerity in his eyes, patient and quiet, asking for nothing. Or maybe she was just weary.
They walked side by side beneath the same umbrella. The rain fell steadily, and neither spoke. But in that silence, she could hear the rhythm of a gentle feeling sprouting inside her, like a young seed nourished by kindness.
For the first time, after days of inner struggle, she found herself smiling naturally while walking beside him.
And for the first time, she did not think of the dream.
In the days that followed, Bach Lan and Trach Hien began seeing each other more often not just within the walls of the company, but outside, in the quieter corners of daily life.
They found themselves in a small café by the lake, where warm yellow lamps cast soft light over wooden tables, and a low jazz melody curled out from the speakers in the corner. She told him about her childhood, the little things she loved jasmine blossoms, old books, rainy afternoons. And he listened, with patient eyes and warm hands, sometimes letting his fingers brush lightly across the back of her hand, asking for nothing more.
He never rushed, as though he was stepping into her world one careful pace at a time, with all the gentleness he could offer.
Yet sometimes she felt an odd chill, as if he was walking too perfectly in rhythm with her heart, like he already knew the path.
"Today you look tired."
Bach Lan smiled faintly.
"Maybe because I sat in front of the computer all day. And last night I couldn't sleep."
"For what reason?" – His gaze softened.
She hesitated.
"I don't know. Sometimes I feel like I'm living too fast... running and running, without knowing why."
Trach Hien was silent for a moment, then said softly:
"I used to be like that too. Every day full of goals, plans, achievements. But in the end, no one to share a single cup of tea with."
Bach Lan looked at him.
"And now?"
He didn't answer right away. His eyes turned toward the fading dusk outside the window.
"I'm not sure. But I know that every time I walk beside you, it's enough to make me feel at peace."
Her lips curved in a small smile, and she blinked quickly to hide the ripple stirring inside.
"You always know how to make people feel comforted."
"No." – Trach Hien tilted his head, watching her. – "It's only with you that I truly learn how to be gentle."
The air paused for a beat.
She turned away, hiding the faint smile spreading across her lips, her fingers tightening around the teacup.
"Be careful." – He teased lightly, his voice low. – "If you get used to my gentleness, you'll never escape it."
"So, what should I do?" – She played along, her eyes catching the golden glow of the late sun.
"You don't have to do anything." – His voice lowered, warm, as he leaned just slightly closer. – "Just be yourself. Leave the rest to me."
Her heart gave a small tremor. For the first time, she didn't want to run from what she felt.
But somewhere else, in a different corner, within the quiet of the shadows...
On the top-floor office, Trach Dong stood silent in front of the internal monitor. The hallway camera feed rolled by: Bach Lan stepping out of the elevator, clutching a stack of documents up to her chest.
He did not stare. He only frowned for a moment, then turned away.
"Progress report for PR this week?" – He asked without looking at his assistant.
"Already sent, sir. Ah... there have been a few budget supports for PR recently, approved by..." – The assistant stumbled over the words.
"Not necessary to repeat it." – Trach Dong cut in, voice low and almost like a wind passing.
He did not want anyone to learn about the things he did quietly: trimming his own discretionary budget to shield the PR team from staffing pressure, ordering subordinates to shift difficult contracts to other departments so she would not be overloaded. Even when a major partner moved from considering ending cooperation with Bach Lan over a small campaign mistake to reopening talks, it was because of a quiet word he had placed on the side. She never knew.
And he did not intend for her to know.
Yet every time he heard her name in meetings, or saw her in the corridor with tired eyes, his chest tightened in a way he could not explain.
One evening, as Bach Lan left the building after work, she passed along a side lobby where the soft yellow lights spilled over the wet steps, still glistening from the rain.
Without warning, Bach Lan slipped.
Before she could fall, another hand, this one not Trach Hien's, shot out from the shadows and caught her by the elbow.
"Be careful." – The voice was deep, warm, and familiar.
Bach Lan startled and turned around.
It was Trach Dong.
He said nothing more, just gave her a brief, sharp glance, then released her and walked away with a cold, measured calm.
Bach Lan stood there, her hand still tingling from the warmth that had just touched her.
Her heart skipped a beat. Her mind told her it was only a simple reflex, but the lingering warmth along her arm felt like a distant memory she could not quite grasp.
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