I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned on the floor mat that served as my bed.

All around me, the rest of the family was fast asleep. The sound of snores, subtle movement, and soft breathing echoed through the one-room home.

I sighed, looking up at the thatched roof, my hands folded over my chest.

He was the reason I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, his face popped up behind my lids, haunting me with his warm smile.

It had all been a lie.

If he had really “loved” me as much as he’d said he did, he wouldn’t have left without saying goodbye. The thought was painful, like someone had sunk a dagger into my heart and continued to twist it back and forth, carving out a bigger and bigger hole, until eventually, my heart would be no more.

Frustrated and angry that these memories had resurfaced, I got up as quietly as I could, grabbed my journal, and headed outside.

It had to be at least one in the morning. The moon was full, illuminating the slumbering village with a soft glow.

I walked slowly along the main road, looking for somewhere to sit and write out my feelings. I just had to get this off my chest or it would drive me insane, gnawing at me from the inside out.

Soon, I was passing by the small clinic set up in the easternmost part of the village. The staff spoke among themselves, trying to stay awake during the late hours. I figured I might as well join them and make myself useful. Tucking my journal into my back pocket, I tried to clear my mind before I pushed the tent flaps aside.

The female nurses looked at me, confused.

“Xin lỗi.” I bowed my head, apologizing for my sudden presence. I then explained that I couldn’t sleep and that I would be willing to help with whatever they needed. They tasked me with cutting up some bandages into smaller rolls so that they would be easier to use.

Doing so, I looked around, noticing that most of the beds were empty, except for one which housed a man curled up in the far corner. He was covered with an itchy-looking blanket all the way up to his chin. I wondered what was wrong with him.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

The sound of thundering footsteps prevented me from dwelling on the topic. I jumped to my feet, preparing for the worst. The nurses had also jumped to attention, their bodies tense and their eyes fixed on the entrance.

Suddenly, a large man barged into the tent, wearing an American uniform.

A soldier.

He was carrying an unconscious girl in his arms. She looked pretty beat-up, with cuts and bruises all over her body.

“Please, you have to help her.”

His voice made me freeze. It was familiar. Too familiar.

The man stepped forward, just enough for the overhead light to shine on the girl’s face but keep him cloaked in shadows.

“Trang Le!” one of the nurses shouted, recognizing the girl. They started to ask the soldier what had happened, but judging by his silence, it was obvious he had no idea what they were saying.

Wasting no time, they took the woman from his arms and laid her down on a nearby bed, tending to her wounds and trying to get a response out of her. From the paleness of her skin, it looked like she had lost a lot of blood.

They worked with unprecedented skill, almost as if they had done this a thousand times before. Quickly, they began stitching up her more severe wounds before wrapping her in bandages from head to toe.

I stood there, not quite sure what to do with myself. I knew that, realistically, if I wanted to be useful, I could step in as a translator, but a part of me didn’t want to acknowledge the man who had brought Trang in or to jeopardize my own hiding spot among the shadows.

Maybe, if I was lucky, I could sneak out of the tent without him ever seeing me. Then I could pretend he wasn’t here, that he didn’t exist.

“Is she going to be okay?” he asked, stepping forward.

The second I saw him, everything came crashing back. All of the memories. The late-night cuddling under the sheets. Staying outside and suffering through the mosquitos, just to see the stars twinkling overhead. Forehead to forehead, dreamily whispering about our life together, thinking everything was perfect.

And then, having all that taken away.

Having him leave without notice. Calling him to demand answers. Asking everyone I knew if they had known about him running off to join the army. That damned letter with his two-bit apology.

My hands tightened into fists by my side, shaking with all of the pent-up emotions I had been suppressing for ten years.

Unable to handle being so close to him, I dashed out of the tent, tears already gathering in the corners of my eyes. I bit the inside of my lip, refusing to let myself cry over him yet again. I had done that way too often in the past, and I was through feeling sorry about what could have been.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

“Sidney!”

I refused to turn around. I picked up the pace and started running.

I could hear him following me.

“Sidney!” he called out again.

He was gaining on me. I had to find some way to lose him, so I slipped into a small alleyway, making my way toward the river.

Once I reached the water, I stopped, catching my breath, thinking I had finally lost him. My heart was beating rapid fire. Droplets of sweat ran down my neck. Goosebumps covered every inch of my body.

I rubbed my arms, suddenly feeling cold and alone. I sat down on a nearby rock, hugging my knees to my chest, feeling so… hollow.

Why did he have to show up now?