Chapter 13: Shy Dawn
The next morning, the early sunlight filtered through the cracks in the door, casting pale yellow rays of light on the wooden floor. The air was cold and fresh, carrying the scent of morning dew. The intoxication of wine and love had vanished, leaving only the naked truth of a new morning, an unavoidable awkwardness.
Tung was the first to wake up. He opened his eyes and the first thing he saw was Ngan’s face sleeping in his arms, peaceful, defenseless, like an angel. All the memories of last night came flooding back, as clear as if it had just happened, every detail as vivid as a slow-motion film. A feeling of extreme happiness, lingering guilt, and utter confusion invaded him, like a storm of emotions.
He didn’t dare move, afraid of waking her up, afraid of breaking this fragile moment. He lay still, looking at her, every line on her face. He looked at her long eyelashes, her straight nose, her slightly parted lips, as if inviting. He looked down at her body, the faint red marks on her white skin caused by him last night, traces of possession, of wildness, a naked reminder. In his head, a fierce internal struggle took place, the voices of reason and instinct screaming at each other:
“Oh my god, what have I done? She’s my sister. I swore… How am I supposed to face her now? What will she think of me? Will she hate me? Or will she… like me?”
Ngan stirred slightly and opened her eyes. Their eyes met, like two electric sparks flying through the air. Tung was startled, quickly withdrew his hand, his face red, like a child caught red-handed. Ngan was also stunned for a second, a flash of confusion flashed through her eyes. The intimate moment of last night disappeared, replaced by the awkwardness of two sober, naked people on the same bed, a painfully naked truth.
Ngan was the one to break the silence. She didn’t say anything, just smiled and sat up, pulling the blanket over her body, as if in self-defense. She got out of bed, started picking up her clothes, the fabric rustling softly, like dry leaves falling. Tung sat on the bed, completely confused, not knowing what to do, like a puppet whose strings had been cut. The morning drama had begun, and he didn’t know what role he should play, the lover or the younger brother.
They were both getting dressed, trying not to look each other in the eye. The silence was heavy, thick. The scent of sex from last night still lingered in the air, an undeniable reminder, a living testament to what had happened.
Tung had finished dressing. He stood there, his hands clasped together, looking awkward like a misbehaving schoolboy, awaiting judgment. Ngan was still calmly buttoning his shirt, each movement slow and deliberate. Tung’s goal was to say something to resolve this suffocation, to admit his mistake, to bring everything back to “normal”. Ngan listened and redefined the relationship according to her own wishes.
Tung’s voice was low, not daring to look at Ngan, his eyes glued to the wooden floor. “Sister… Last night… I… I’m sorry. It was my fault. I couldn’t control myself. I swore…” His voice gradually faded, like a confession.
Ngan stopped, turned to face him. Her face had no anger or reproach, only a small, mysterious smile. She looked a little amused, as if looking at a child who had just done something wrong, both pitiful and adorable. Her voice was gentle, a little teasing, but full of power. “Sorry for what? Didn’t you see how cold it was last night? Without you, I would have frozen to stone.”
Tung looked up, stunned, his eyes wide open. He had prepared for every reaction – anger, tears, rejection – but not this calmness, not these words. Her words had turned a lustful and sinful act into an act of “self-interest”, an act of “help”, a complete redefinition. He was completely disarmed, not knowing how to react, only confusion and a little relief.
Ngan stepped forward, reaching out to fix Tung’s crooked collar. A very sisterly gesture, full of power, but also full of hidden meaning. Her tone had returned to its usual cheerful, commanding tone, but her eyes were cold, looking straight into his eyes, as if wanting to pierce his heart. “Come on, don’t show that mournful face anymore. What happened last night, consider it an accident because it was too cold. Okay?”
She paused for a second, then emphasized each word, like a final, irrevocable agreement, a declaration of sovereignty. “Now pack up and get ready to go, little brother. I’m hungry. Can we still be sisters?”
The weight of the two words “younger brother” and the affirmation “still the same” weighed on him. He looked into her eyes, saw determination and a bit of distance and coldness, an invisible wall had been built. He understood. This was the only way for him to continue to be by her side, even if it was only in the role of “younger brother”. He slowly nodded, his voice returning to normal, but containing disappointment and acceptance. “Yes. Let me pack.”
The deal was sealed. Ngan had successfully redefined their relationship. They cleaned up the room together, erasing all traces of last night. On the surface, they were “sisters” again. But beneath that perfect facade, a secret had been planted, a time bomb that would never truly be defused.