Chapter 4: The Last Page of an Old Story

The next morning, An decided to learn more about the first love her grandmother’s letter had mentioned. She went through the old notebooks kept in the cabinet at the back of the shop, where her grandmother used to write down her memories and thoughts over the years.

In one worn notebook, An found a yellowed black-and-white photo of her grandmother as a young woman, standing beside a man in front of this very bookshop, both of them beaming. On the back was a handwritten line: “That summer, before you left.”

An brought the photo downstairs and showed it to Khiêm. He looked at it for a long while, then told her what he knew from all those afternoons talking with her grandmother.

“She once told me the man in this photo was her first love. They planned to marry once he finished his studies far away. But when he wrote asking her to come and live with him in his new home, she was afraid. Afraid to leave her family, to leave the place where she was born. So she said no, and little by little she stopped writing.”

“Did she ever see him again?” An asked, her voice full of curiosity and sorrow.

“Many years later, she heard he’d married and settled down far away. She never blamed him. She only ever blamed herself for not being brave enough to step outside her comfort zone.”

An fell silent, looking at the photo in her hand. She realized that this bookshop wasn’t only a place that held beautiful memories. It also held an unfinished story, a lesson her grandmother had spent her whole life trying to pass on to her.

That afternoon, An opened the last letter, the one from this year, written when her grandmother was already very weak.

“My dear An, by the time you read this letter, I probably won’t be with you anymore. But I want you to know that I have never regretted living a full life, with all my love for this bookshop, for its books, for the people I’ve met. The only thing I regret is that I wasn’t brave enough to take hold of happiness when it was right in front of me.

I see in you the girl I used to be: clever, independent, but so afraid of her own true feelings. I don’t want you to live a life full of ‘if onlys.’ Khiêm is a good young man. He has waited for you all these years without a word of complaint. That isn’t blind waiting. It’s proof of a rare and sincere love.

I’m leaving this bookshop to you not just because it belongs to the family, but because I believe this place will help you find yourself again, and find the courage you’ve lost. Live your life fully. Don’t let fear steal the happiness you deserve.

I love you, always.

Your grandmother.”

An held the letter to her chest and let the tears fall freely. For the first time in ten years, she felt she truly understood her grandmother: why she had always waited so patiently, always quietly followed every step An took without saying a word.

She looked out the window. Khiêm was standing under the almond tree in front of the bookshop, the sunset casting a warm orange glow over his face. He had no idea she was watching him from the attic. He was just quietly gazing at the familiar street, as he had for so many years.

An wiped her tears, stood up, and went down the stairs. She knew it was time to make a decision about her own life. Not out of duty or guilt, but because it was what her heart truly wanted.