story continued from the link -
30-12-2024
#ALT #TEXT - "Serene view of a wide stretch of water flowing through Waterloo Lake in Roundhay Park, with the tranquil lake reflecting the fading copper and violet hues of the sky above, creating a peaceful and picturesque scene at dusk."
Grey clouds loomed heavily in the sky as a white-throated babbler fluttered from the mango tree outside and landed gently on the windowpane of Nguyen’s house. The bird pecked at the insects it found there, its delicate beak tapping at the glass as if trying to signal something unusual lurking in the shadows of the unknown.
Inside the house, the morning routine was disturbingly quiet. The cockerel, a moderate-sized bird with vibrant plumage, crowed several times, but Nguyen was nowhere to be seen. Every morning, she would rise promptly, feeding the cockerel and tending to the birds with tender care, but today, there was an unsettling silence.
Simon, glancing at the clock, said, “Samantha, darling, I’m starving.”
“Don’t worry, breakfast is almost ready,” Samantha replied as she flipped a pancake. She paused for a moment, furrowing her brow. “By the way, I wonder why Nguyen hasn’t come by yet. She’s usually here by 8:30am, without fail.”
“I wonder if she slept in or something,” Simon mused, casually leaning against the counter. But there was a twinge of concern in his voice.
Samantha looked out the window, her eyes landing on the cockerel again. “The cockerel usually wakes us all up, and yet she hasn’t come. Maybe you should go check on her?”
“I could go,” Simon said, but his expression was hesitant. “I’ll go after breakfast.”
Once breakfast was ready, Simon quickly finished his meal, grabbed his white T-shirt, brown shorts, and slippers, and walked over to Nguyen’s house. He knocked lightly at the door. No response. He knocked again, louder this time, but still nothing. Confused and uneasy, he returned to Samantha.
“Nguyen’s not answering,” he said, his voice tinged with worry.
Samantha’s brows furrowed. “That’s odd. I’ll go check with her neighbours.”
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Samantha quickly approached Nguyen’s neighbour, an elderly woman , creamy olive skin , kind hazel brown eyes with a warm smile despite her age. The woman wore a yellow gown that seemed bright against the gloom of the morning.
“I last saw Nguyen at 10pm last night,” the woman said, her expression turning solemn. “She seemed fine.”
Simon joined Samantha after a few minutes. Together, they looked back toward Nguyen’s door, now filled with anxiety.
The neighbour, noticing their concern, suggested they break the door open to check on her. Simon hesitated, feeling an internal struggle, but after a brief pause, he nodded in agreement. The weight of the moment was heavy, and Simon’s heart raced as he swung the door open.
The sight that greeted “Samantha” ,”Simon” and the elderly woman left them breathless.
“Nguyen”, her face pale and her body limp, was hanging by a rope in the centre of the room, her nightgown flowing gently around her lifeless frame.
Samantha gasped, her heart seizing in her chest. She rushed forward, her hands trembling as she grabbed a knife to cut the rope. Simon quickly lifted Nguyen’s body off the ground, desperately trying to keep his composure.
As the rope fell away, Samantha wasted no time. She pressed her hands firmly on Nguyen’s chest, beginning chest compressions with quick, steady movements, her breath shallow with fear and urgency. “Come on, come on,” she whispered under her breath, her eyes locked on Nguyen’s still face.
Simon, with shaking hands, tilted Nguyen’s head back to open her airways, praying for even the slightest sign of life. Then, just as hope began to fade, Samantha noticed a subtle movement beneath Nguyen’s ribs. It was a shallow breath, but it was enough. Nguyen was breathing, albeit weakly.
Samantha felt her pulse at Nguyen’s wrist, and the faint but present carotid pulse confirmed it. Nguyen was alive.
A few minutes later, the ambulance arrived. Two paramedics, a man with honey-coloured skin and sharp chocolate eyes, and a petite woman with piercing grey eyes, moved swiftly. They quickly transferred Nguyen to a gurney and began administering more medical care.
Simon and Samantha followed the paramedics to Sakura Hospital, Yangon ,Myanmar . Nguyen’s condition was still critical but stable. They held their breath, unsure of what was to come, as the medical team rushed her to the intensive care unit.
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At “The Strand café ,” Simon and Samantha sat together for a coffee and a quick bite after the stressful, emotional morning. The weight of what had happened hung heavy in the air. They clung to each other, thankful for Nguyen’s survival but burdened with the uncertainty of what might come next.
“What a day,” Simon said, his voice cracked with emotion. “You can say that again. Thank God Nguyen’s still alive. I can’t imagine what we would’ve said to the children at the orphanage if she hadn’t made it.”
“I dread to think about it,” Samantha replied softly. Her eyes were distant, a hint of sorrow lingering. “We would have had to break their hearts.”
Simon squeezed her left hand tightly. “But I truly believe “Providence” has intervened. Nguyen cheated death by the slimmest of margins to say the least.”
Samantha nodded. “From today’s events, I can say without a doubt that “Hope and Humanity” are still alive and well.”
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Later that evening, Simon and Samantha returned to the orphanage. Despite the lingering tension from the day’s events, they threw themselves into their work, supporting the children. Simon read stories to the children, while Samantha baked chicken pasties and chocolate cake for the children and taught them arts and crafts. The laughter of the children filled the air, and for a moment, everything felt normal again.
But one little girl creamy honey skin , bright green eyes , gave Samantha a gaze with wide eyes and trembling lips, tugged at Samantha’s arm. “Where is Nguyen?”
Samantha’s heart broke as she knelt to the child’s level. “Nguyen is in the hospital, sweetie,” she said gently, her voice soft but firm. “She’s going to be okay.”
The look on the child’s face, the pain and confusion, almost made Samantha break down herself. The little girl began to cry, clutching Samantha tightly. She begged to see Nguyen, and though Samantha’s heart ached for the child, she knew she had to find a way to distract her.
She pulled the child into her arms and rocked her gently, whispering soothing words as the other children played nearby. Slowly, the child calmed, her sobs dying down as Samantha found a distraction in a new song, one that made the children giggle and forget their worries for just a little while.
Samantha smiled through her own unshed tears, knowing that despite the darkness of the day, the light of compassion and love would guide them all through.
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Nguyen spent a week in the intensive care unit at Sakura Hospital. The days were long and filled with uncertainty, but Samantha and Simon took turns visiting her. They sat by her bed, speaking softly to her, offering support and reassurance as she slowly began to regain her strength. Each visit was a reminder of the delicate thread by which life hangs, and each moment they spent with Nguyen was one of quiet hope.
After a week, Nguyen was finally discharged. She was still fragile, her body weak from the trauma, but her spirit seemed to be fighting. Samantha and Simon, who had become her constant source of support, knew she wasn’t ready to go back to her empty house just yet. So, they offered her a safe place to heal—a place where she could rest and recover, both physically and emotionally.
“Nguyen,” Samantha said softly as they sat in their living room, the warmth of the morning sun streaming through the windows. “I understand that life is not easy, especially when you're carrying so much on your shoulders. But I want you to know, we’re here for you. We’ve got you. You’re not alone.”
Simon nodded in agreement; his voice steady but filled with compassion. “You’re an incredible person, Nguyen. You take care of those children at the orphanage every day—children who are not even your own. That’s no small thing. I dare say it’s one of the hardest jobs anyone could do, and you do it so selflessly. But no one should have to carry all that weight alone.”
Nguyen’s eyes, though tired, flickered with a hint of emotion as she listened. She had always been so used to being the one who cared for others, the one who put everyone else first. To hear Samantha and Simon speak to her like this was a kindness she wasn’t used to receiving, and it made her heart ache.
“I wonder,” Samantha continued, her voice gentle, “what led you to that dark place where you thought you had no way out. Please, know that no matter what happens, you have us. We are here for you, no matter what. You don’t have to bear the weight of the world on your own.”
Simon added, “The children miss you a great deal, you know. One of them even wrote you a poem. She said you remind her of her biological mother—the one she never knew. It’s a testament to the love and care you give to them every day.”
Nguyen felt a lump form in her throat at the mention of the poem. The children, those sweet souls she had cared for with such dedication, still remembered her with love, despite her absence. They missed her, and they cared for her as much as she cared for them. It was in moments like these that Nguyen realized how deep the bonds of love could run—bonds that were built through years of hard work, patience, and sacrifice.
Samantha and Simon were quiet for a moment, allowing the weight of their words to settle in. They knew it wasn’t enough to simply tell Nguyen that she wasn’t alone—they wanted to show her, every day, that they meant it.
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“Is there anything bothering you, Nguyen?” Simon asked gently. “Anything that’s been weighing on you that we can help with? We’re just two doors away, and we would be more than happy to lend a hand. You’ve done so much for others, and now it’s our turn to help you.”
Nguyen looked down, her hands trembling slightly. It had been so hard for her to accept help, to allow herself to be vulnerable. But here, with Simon and Samantha, she felt a warmth—a safe space where she could finally let her guard down.
She took a deep breath and, for the first time in days, allowed herself to speak the words she had been too afraid to say. “I don’t know what happened, Simon, Samantha. I’ve always tried to be strong, always tried to keep it together. But lately, everything just felt like too much. The weight of the orphanage, the responsibility for the children, and the loneliness…it all just built up inside of me.”
Tears welled in her eyes, but she didn’t try to hide them. “I never meant to hurt anyone. I never meant to leave you all behind. I just…I didn’t know how to keep going anymore.”
Samantha reached over and took Nguyen’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “We understand, Nguyen. It’s okay to feel overwhelmed. It’s okay to not have all the answers. But we’re here for you. We’ll help you carry that burden, step by step.”
Simon leaned in, his voice earnest. “You don’t have to do this alone anymore. You have us, and we’ll be with you every step of the way. Let us help lighten your load, Nguyen.”
In that moment, something in Nguyen shifted. She had always prided herself on being strong, on being the one who could hold everything together. But now, for the first time, she allowed herself to lean on others—something she had never been willing to do before.
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The next week passed in a haze of recovery and healing. Nguyen stayed with Simon and Samantha, finding comfort in their home, in their routine, and in their unwavering support. Though the road ahead would be long, she no longer felt the weight of the world pressing down on her alone. She had friends who cared, who were ready to help, and most importantly, she had hope.
Samantha, Simon, and Nguyen visited the orphanage together once Nguyen felt strong enough. As they arrived, the children rushed forward to greet her, their faces lighting up in relief and joy. One little girl ran up to Nguyen and handed her the poem she had written, her eyes shining with admiration and love.
The words in the poem were simple, but they spoke volumes:
"You are my mother, though you are not mine,
In your care,
I have found my shine.
Your love, like a light, guides me through,
Nguyen,
I am thankful for you."
Nguyen's heart swelled with emotion as she read the poem. She looked up at the children, their faces full of hope, and for the first time in a long while, she felt like she was where she truly belonged—surrounded by love, and with people who cared for her as much as she cared for them.
And as she looked at Simon and Samantha, standing by her side, she knew that no matter what life brought her way, she would never have to face it alone again. The road ahead might still have challenges, but with the support of those who loved her, she felt ready to face whatever came next.
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