In 1972, Saigon emerged as a multi-colored painting between light and shadow. The city was alive with vibrancy yet filled with contradictions, where neon lights lit up the bustling streets while the echoes of war still rumbled from afar.

Mai sat quietly in a luxurious black Citroën DS, feeling the smooth hum of the engine as the car rolled down the familiar roads. Outside, Saigon flowed like an unceasing current, where street vendors worked tirelessly, children played carefree, and old men sat at their doorsteps, their eyes silently watching time pass by.

In the stillness of the car, Mai took a drag from her cigarette, the smoke curling into the air like painful memories from the past. She thought of the small village where she once lived with her mother and younger sister. Those peaceful days had been shattered by the sounds of bombs when an unexpected air raid claimed the lives of her dearest loved ones.

The car stopped in front of the American Embassy, where the light from inside spilled out, creating a scene of opulence and grandeur. Mai adjusted her deep crimson gown, stepping out with the confidence of a woman familiar with this glittering world. She knew she had a mission to complete, yet she couldn't stop the painful memories from resurfacing.

As she entered the grand hall, Mai blended into the crowd, a faint smile on her lips, though her sharp eyes never ceased to observe. American officers and officials from the Saigon government were engrossed in their champagne glasses, while soft jazz music floated from a small band in the corner.

Mai stepped onto the stage, took hold of the microphone, and her voice rose in the space like a whisper of deep, hidden sorrows.

"Trời còn làm mưa, mưa rơi thênh thang
Từng gót chân trần, em quên, em quên..."
"As long as the sky makes it rain, the rain falls endlessly
With every bare footstep, I forget, I forget..."

Her voice flowed like a cool stream through the room, carrying a melancholic sadness yet also a certain vitality. Each verse was a fragment of memory returning to her mind, like nostalgic paintings of a time long gone.

"Ôi miền giáo đường, ngày chủ nhật buồn
Còn ai, còn ai..."
"Oh, the land of the church, such a sad Sunday
Who's left, who's left..."

Mai recalled the fateful Sundays when she laid roses upon the graves of her mother and sister. The image of the wilted flowers kissing the cold lips of her dearest ones sent silent tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Đóa hoa hồng tàn hôn lên môi..."
"A withered rose kissed upon the lips..."

Mai's tears fell like raindrops, not only of sorrow but also of resilience and determination. For a moment, she was back at that tragic day, where she knelt beside her departed loved ones, crying out in despair.

"Mother, sister, don't die..." Mai had once screamed in hopelessness, but those words echoed into the void, unanswered.

The applause broke through the air as the song ended, but Mai heard nothing except the thundering beat of her own heart. She bowed her head in thanks and stepped down from the stage, concealing the pain still blazing within her chest.

An American officer approached, offering her a glass of wine with a smile of admiration. Mai accepted the drink, though her mind had already drifted far away, focusing on the mission ahead. She had to complete the plan, to leave a mark, a powerful message that she would never be subdued.

John, a young American soldier, couldn't take his eyes off Mai. Her voice had stirred something unfamiliar in him, a connection he couldn't explain. He moved closer, holding two glasses of red wine in his hands.

"You sang beautifully," John said, his voice sincere. "I've never heard a voice that could touch my heart like that. May I offer you a drink to celebrate?"

"Thank you," Mai replied, accepting the glass. "You're very kind."

"I don't understand much Vietnamese," John continued, "but through your song, I could feel that you've been through great loss. Am I right?"

Mai looked distantly ahead. "War spares no one. Everyone has their own story, don't they?"

John nodded. "Yes, war doesn't just bring pain to those who fight, but it affects the innocent, too. Back home, many have suffered losses."

"Do you miss home?" Mai asked softly.

"I do," John admitted. "But it all feels so far away. Here, amidst the chaos, I find rare moments like tonight. Listening to you sing, I felt something... special."

Mai smiled faintly. "Music is the only way I can connect with the past, with those I've lost."

"I'm so sorry. I can't imagine what you've been through," John said, his voice filled with empathy. "You're incredibly strong."

Mai was silent for a moment, her gaze falling on her glass of wine as she remembered the painful past.

"War taught me how to stand up after every fall. The people I love will always live in my heart, and I continue to fight for them," Mai said, her voice firm yet gentle.

John looked at her, his eyes filled with understanding and compassion.

"You make me feel small with my own thoughts," John confessed. "I came here as a soldier, but sometimes I wonder if we're doing the right thing or if we're just pawns in a bigger game."

Mai sighed. "Sometimes, we don't have a choice, but I believe everyone has their own reasons for carrying on. Thank you for listening and for sharing. It means a lot to me."

John smiled softly. "I hope I get to hear you sing again. And maybe, in a better world, we'll meet again."

Mai smiled, feeling the sincerity in John's words. In that moment, she didn't feel so alone in this war.

"Let's hope that day isn't far away," Mai said, looking into John's eyes.

Their conversation ended, but Mai knew they had formed a special connection, one that transcended the boundaries of war and hatred. With a glass of wine and heartfelt words exchanged, they both found a small piece of peace amidst the storm of their time.

Mai bid John farewell, then gently walked out of the ballroom, leaving behind the lights and music. She knew she still had a mission to complete, but her conversation with John had given her strength and hope to continue on the path she had chosen.

As she passed through the main hall, Mai suddenly froze when she heard a voice from behind.

"Leaving so soon?" a mocking voice called out, belonging to another American officer. He stood leaning against the wall, holding a glass of wine, his eyes scanning her with suspicion.

Mai turned, flashing a light smile as if nothing was amiss. "I'm feeling a bit tired, so I'd like to rest. Thank you for your concern," she replied, her voice calm but her eyes sharp.

"Let me walk you out. The night's still young," he said, stepping closer, his intentions clear.

Mai's heart raced, but she kept her composure. She knew she needed to escape this situation without raising suspicion.

"Thank you, but I have my own driver," Mai responded, stepping back to maintain distance.

At that moment, John appeared, like a savior in the tense moment. "She's with me. I'll walk her to her car," he said, his tone firm.

The officer looked at John, shrugged as if it was no big deal, and said, "Suit yourselves," before stepping back, his eyes still full of doubt.

Mai glanced at John, knowing he had saved her from a dangerous situation. "Thank you," she whispered as they walked outside together.

"No problem. I don't think you should be going alone," John replied, his eyes gentle but full of unanswered questions.

Mai smiled, even though she knew their conversation couldn't last. "I hope we meet again," she said before quickly heading toward her car.

John stood there, watching as Mai's figure disappeared into the night, feeling that there was something very special about this woman.

The Citroën DS rolled down the quiet streets, away from the American Embassy. Mai looked in the rearview mirror, seeing John still standing there, a fading silhouette beneath the yellow lights.

As the car drove further away, a loud explosion echoed from behind. The deafening sound of the blast tore through the night, and bright light erupted like a fierce storm. Mai knew her mission had been successful, but she also realized that this war was far from over.

Mai's heart pounded, not from the success of the mission, but from an unfamiliar feeling stirring inside. She wondered why she was concerned about John, a man she had only just met.

She turned her head to see smoke and flames rising from the building. Debris flew in every direction, the bright flames reflected in her eyes. John had been inside, and she couldn't stop herself from worrying about his fate.

Questions about why she cared for him confused Mai. Was it empathy for the unspoken things, or an invisible connection she had yet to recognize? In those moments, the past and present intertwined, and she felt the fragility of life more clearly than ever.

Mai knew she couldn't turn back, but her mind was torn between her duty and her emotions. She had to focus on the road ahead, on what this war demanded. Yet deep inside, she couldn't deny the crack forming in her steadfast heart, a crack caused by her concern for John.

The car continued down the road, taking Mai deeper into the night of Saigon, where the faint glow of streetlights and the soft hum of the engine enveloped the space. She sank into her seat, her eyes closing as her heartbeat gradually slowed, but she couldn't stop her mind from wondering about the safety of that man.

Amidst the passing streetlights, memories of her mother and sister resurfaced, reminding her of why she continued this fight. No matter what, Mai knew she couldn't let her emotions cloud her judgment, nor let a new bond born from the ashes of war derail her path.

With each passing mile, Mai felt the need to grow stronger, not just for herself, but for those who had fallen, for the dreams buried beneath the dust of time.

 End of Chapter 1

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Hello dear readers,

I am Ngọc Ngân Daisy, a screenwriter and storyteller passionate about exploring the pieces of life through words and images. I seek out stories that resonate with deep emotion, offering readers a colorful journey through the nuances of love, hope, and aspiration.

If you are interested in adapting my works into films, I would be delighted to collaborate with you to bring these pages to life on the screen.

Thank you for joining me in the world of art and emotion.

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