3-2-1...END

This is a true story, about me, and about a past love. I don't think I have enough sharp sentences to tell you a good story. The only thing I'm thinking about is to write something, to feel like I actually existed there.

***

You and I don't have to fall in love at all because of some kind of lightning love, or because we accidentally met somewhere, or just because we were too impressed about each other to give rise to love. We've been schoolmates since childhood. We're not old friends, but we don't have any memories of each other.

I'm a good, good-looking student. And yet, it's still a reputation to be invited to the recruitment team of literate students, and to be a class leader from second grade, third grade, and four years of college. It's not because I'm good at syphilis, it looks like the teacher thinks I am older than my classmates and I have a trusted face, so she just wants me to do it. Anyway, I've never tried to take examinations and studies seriously. You, on the contrary, are not beautiful, but you have a good and decent school.

There's no strange thing about school-age love. You can't tell the difference between love and affection, but you can say that love is great. I don't know what I like you for, maybe I make fun of you every day to the class and arouse feelings. A soul with a little poetic temper, I'm starting to think about you a lot. Shy, so I keep kidding you every day and I feel like you more.

Late in second grade, I probably thought things would change when I went to third grade, and I dared to tell you what I kept secret. Everything doesn't go as expected, I refuse to cheer up. That's right, you're still a psychiatrist, unlike me. And since then, we've been getting farther apart, because of our shyness.

Third grade, even though it's the same school, but different. New class, new friends, you almost forgot about me. Anyway, I'm still paying attention to you. Every time I accidentally see you at home to grind or pass through the classroom, I'm still trying to look at you. And you try to avoid me.

In Grade 12, we started to grow up in thought, maybe that's why we were friends. I'm happy, too. And I decided to try again. But maybe I'm wrong, you talk to me bluntly because you think we can be friends. It's impossible for such a silly reason not to be friends anymore. But my goal is still to learn, love is the only thing that affects my academic results. And from that point on, we're getting really distant.

After the college exam, I fell and went to aspirational school two. You parked a prestigious university, a result worthy of your efforts. We, and our other friends, are starting to socialize. Study, live and experience in the places we have chosen. We've almost never met or talked since then.

That's what the heavens have set. Once again, we found each other. It's either accidental or it's intentional.

Near the end of college. I accidentally browse the face, and I see your face. I'll make friends. We had to rest in our heads at the time, we were old friends. And we talked because we haven't seen each other in a long time. We talked a lot, we laughed a lot because I was quite enthusiastic. I didn't come up with the thought of flirting with you again. So, after a while, I'd like to try it again.

New year, I went to your house playing with the mind of being a longtime friend. Actually, it seems like I haven't seen you in a long time, you look much more beautiful and adorable. Back home, I texted and spoke again. Still failed. She's too busy talking. I'm more sad than I've been before. But maybe it's fate to be just friends. That's when I ended my thinking of flirting with you. We're still talking, and we're trying to finish our last year of college.

I don't understand, but a while later, you're talking to me. I open my mouth and my heart jumps with it. I can't describe it, but I know I'm entering the golden age of happiness and love. That's three or three times I say love to a girl.

Starting from there, the days of love make us feel happy. Sharing begins. And I'm getting more and more aware of the reason why I keep bragging and you're not throwing. At that time I was ugly and slightly uneducated. I followed the book-shaped tendency, so I adored the good schoolchildren. You didn't notice me. And before the third time I made my promise, I hadn't been long since I broke up with my lover, so I wasn't so good at getting to know somebody else. You'll pay close attention to me, and you'll find that I'm not too bad to love. And that's love. I often whisper to myself, do you regret not loving me sooner?

We went to school and started to work. You're in one place, I'm in one. The feeling of wanting to be close to you to take care of you and to care for you it's coming up in me every day with missing you. Just a week. I'm determined to leave the place I spent four years in college to apply for a job in Hanoi to be close to you. After three months without a job application, my family wants me to go back to the countryside to work. Anyway, it's better to work close to home. I left everything to come back to you.

We got a job. It's not the same place, but it's the same countryside. I'm starting to feel like a man who takes care of his lover. I came home early in the morning to get you to work, I went to dinner in the afternoon and we went home together in the evening. Life's been quiet for a year. And we've been in love for over two years. That's enough for you to think of something further away. And that's where things started.

I was sent to a distant place by the company. I don't really want to go. But it's a good chance, you and I or my family both think I should go. If you want your wife and your children to have a better life, accept a little sacrifice. That's what I thought. Then I'll be home in a year or two. It's not gonna be too hard.

The day I leave, you give me a bunch of little things, only your picture is the biggest. I went and thought I'd do my best to get through quickly and get back. Three or four months, I'll be home for a week. It's short. Plus, because we're abroad, there's a lot of interruption between us. I know you remember and worry about me a lot. Me too. But I can't do much to change that. Partly because of the fatigue of work, partly for the loneliness. We disagree a lot. Another thing is we're the same age, and my parents say we don't fit. And also stopping us. When we're in love, it doesn't seem very clear. But when we started talking about marriage, that ban became apparent.

Sadly, my family thinks so. My parents and your parents didn't stop us from falling in love. Still funny to welcome every time we come home to play. But when they're all in the same house. The words of persuasion began to be poured into the ears. My nature is very strange, I like to do things that my parents can't stop, especially love affairs. And you, my family is very family-friendly, and because you don't want me to be sad, you quietly fight with your family the way you think it's right.

Ever since I left my job, my parents started getting more nervous about us. One fateful day: Your sister sent me a message on the face: "You and your family are dear to you, but you don't fit together, getting married will be hard. I hope you stay away from him." My legs are shaking, my heart is beating, my chest is burning like a cornburn, my eyes are blinking. I told you that, and I was very upset. It was only later that I knew you were in my face to block your sister's face. The next time I came home, I went up to your house and I felt the unhappy attitude of your parents. Since then, I've been thinking a lot about us. I feel the weight on your shoulders every day between me and my family. I don't want to upset my parents, nor do I want to break up. I understand how sad and sad you are when you don't have me here to comfort you. I love you, and I do love you even more. But I can't do anything. I can't leave. Your parents thought I'd go so far and marry you would make you hard and lonely. And now I'm leaving, and I don't have a job to play with and raise you after I get married. What every parent thinks about is sending their children to a place where they feel safe. And love and affection aren't the first thing. I don't blame your parents for that. But I'm still very sad.

I finally made a decision, ended everything. I spent a lot of time thinking about how to make you hate me and break up. I've been thinking a lot about this decision. It'll change everything. And then I did it. I turned myself into an amateur villain. The show started, before I had paid enough to buy myself a smartphone, the purpose of which was to communicate with you so much that it cost me a lot of money through a network service like Viber or Zalo. And now, its purpose is different. I deliberately let you be jealous.

One day, on a phone announcement on viber in English and four digits. I accessed the computer to check if I was flirting with her. And that's the encryption sequence for access verification. Just a few seconds later, I told you if I saw any announcements and read me some numbers. I read. And what was left in there was read by me. Tired of protecting this love. It's like an arrow that's too tight, just a little more stretched and broken. And we broke up.

In your eyes, I'm a bitch. How much love and trust, how much effort you've built, is all broken down because of me. You hate me so much. You never think I'm gonna have more time to erase if I do something stupid. Everything impossible is arrangable. The disappointment in me is so high that I don't have the courage to think about everything. We broke up, I quietly agreed. I'm not explaining anything. But for a long time I texted my apologies and it wasn't like that. I understand you, I want to make it clear. What I'm doing is trying to prove that I did it.

Because of that hatred, or because my parents arranged for me to fall in love with someone a month later. The man who's now my husband. I've always made a distinction between sadness and joy. Sadly, what I shouldn't have done, I did. I'm not that noble. But of course I love you. I want you to have a happy life. Somebody's around to take care of you. I'm glad you're fine anyway, you have a small family, you've got a good job. What I did wasn't in vain. And I, still in a place where I used to think I't be staying that long. That's two or two years of love and a year of being together.

And the end is, I think, everybody's got it. This isn't the only girl I love. And this story is real, but not entirely complete and detailed. I don't want to say thank you if someone reads this story and says I'm a noble man. I don't care if anyone believes it's true. The only thing, to me, it's a beautiful love.

I just want you to understand that when you're in love with any of us, you'll have difficulties or crashes that we couldn't have expected. As a man, do something for a girl you love. The person you love may not be with you anymore. But that love will still be in your heart if you want to keep it. I still want to say I'm sorry, I still wish you understood this. But maybe that's it!