Fate
She was an influential gambler's daughter.
She was a Vietnamese forced to be a courtesan.
Miles and oceans didn't prevent Fate for entwining their lives together.
1945, Trang Tien, Vietnam
"Mademoiselle Sesel," Hong Thi Xuan-Lien curtsied elegantly in her chrysanthemum-and-hibiscus uchikake as she regarded her regular visitor with interest. "Here again?" She tightened her obi and presented a welcoming smile.
"Oui, Xuan-Lien." The questioned grinned endearingly, showing a slightly crooked front tooth. "And also, call me Aimee." Aimee took off her beribboned shoes and smoothened her wrinkled garters. "It's my fourth time here."
"Tired?" Xuan-Lien began preparing the tea. The sound of the ceramic bowl and pounded mint leaves joined the orchestra of chirping robins outside and the two ladies' stable breathing.
Aimee shook her head, meaning it. "The cold spring air is a joy and besides," She straightened her spine as she attempted sitting on the tatami just like how she'd seen Xuan-Lien do it. "I adore taking in the long road and the sights bordering Trang Tien on my way here."
Xuan-Lien sipped her tea daintily. "I'm glad."
They became friends, a prostitute and a gambler's daughter. But Fate hated one girl and loved another, the two girl's beginnings very different from each other.
Prologues
1932 - Hanoi, Vietnam
Her name before then was Trinh.
Nhung Thi Trinh. A beautiful name.
The 'noble and pure' as the elders like to say, to describe her. A fitting name for the third child and the second daughter of the Nhung family.
She was all smiles and unrestrained laughter. Her peaches-and-cream coloring and curling mass of silken hair attracted many a glances. Because of being fair than her other siblings, she was the one everybody patted on the head, while her brothers and sisters are patted on the shoulders.
Her outstanding qualities are said to be her blessings.
But it turned out to be a curse. Her curse.
She was sold by her parents to a procuress in the red light district of Trang Tien. She thought that the trip to the city was a change of atmosphere. She never knew that it'll be the last time that she'll ever be with them.
"My, you're as pretty as a picture, dear child." The old lady commented as she eyed her from head to foot. With attractive dents on both sides of her face, Trinh indeed proved to be an exceptional beauty.
"I like the roundness of her eyes, the high cheekbones. You'll get a very high price for her."
Little Trinh never knew what their words meant. She was busy smiling at the passing women in long furisodes.
"I'm a Japanese stationed here in Hanoi to run a pleasure quarter for the coming Japanese. We're going to use foriegn women. Vietnamese girls sure are remarkably beautiful."
"She will be a prostitute..." Her mother remarked, patting the sweat on her brow with a handkerchief. "She's the prettiest of our brood."
The old lady glanced at Trinh again, hiding her raisin lips in an abominable brown fan. "True, true."
Trinh's father looked on both sides of the street. "Quick, hurry! We need money!"
The old lady pulled a drawtring bag with heavy gold coins inside. "Here, you impatient man."
"Great, great. Thank you." Trinh's father took her daughter's shoulders. "Trinh, we'll come back for you. Uh, you wil be left here for a while, until Papa found a stable job, okay?"
Trinh smiled innocently. "Yes, Papa!"
The day she was left in the brothel, she just turned eight.
Her name was changed to Xuan-Lien.
1939 - Paris, France
A loud knock interrupted Francis' reading of documents concerning the guardianship transfer of the left behind Lefevre heiress. Voice dripping with annoyance, he ruffled the lace foaming at his wrists after spotting lint. "Come in."
It turned out that the one who disturbed him was Matthieu, his adopted son. "Sorry to disrupt you Papa. I think someone was knocking." Matthieu just heard the sound and rushed to tell his father about it, the young lad simply on the room next to the study.
"Why didn't you let Toris open the door?" Francis replied, uncapping the black ink bottle and dipping the sharp end of his plume. "He's the butler of this household, isn't he?"
"Toris was out today Papa." Matthieu reminded amiably, hoping to calm his father. Francis Bonnefoy though patient is known for his temper when interrupted during serious matters. "He visited a relative who moved in Nice."
"I forgot about that." Francis raked his hair in frustration and embarassment. "Pardon your old man's temper." He ruefully patted his chest. "I think my age is catching up with me."
Matthieu shook his head, laughing. "Five and twenty is not so old an age." They halted their family banter when they heard the knock again pounding the mahogany-panneled front doors, louder this time.
"I'm glad you didn't open the doors, Matthieu. Mon Dieu, I can imagine the number of soldiers banding together in the streets now that the second world war have officially started. Day and night they gather around in every corner of the city, keeping the nobles in check. Hitler and his theories plagues the European community." Francis looked outside, his brows furrowed discovering that the southern sky was a dark and heavy ebony shade due to the downpour, as dark as his thoughts concerning the impending war. "I think it's simply the wind howling."
"No, I think that's a human hand." Matthieu persisted as his curiosity guided him to trudge the stairs in a hurried walking pace yet with caution. "I'll see to it." On his turn from the stairs he encountered Melisande who was roused from her sleep. She rubbed the sandmen in her eyes and clutched her shawl tighter. "Papa who is it?" They all went down to see who it is.
"Its a little child!" Matthieu remarked as he bent on one knee and patted the girl's wet black hair. "She's cold!"
"Bring her to the receiving room."
"Sir, a-are you..." The little girl gulped, steadying herself. Her teeth chattered helplessly as the cold chill air made the hair in her arms tingle. "...Mo-Monsi-Monsieur F-Francis Bonnefo-foy?"
"Yes, I am." Francis motioned Melisande to get flannel cloths for their young guest. "Speak up my child."
Matthieu took the little girl's hand to warm it.
"Dear sir. I've come from Saint-Cloud bearing a letter. Our orphanage was burned the other day." The girl showed an envelope. "The burning of the orphaange was not made news for it is said that it was caused by the government. The fire was extreme that many of our sisters and fellow orphans are trapped inside. I'm from the few who survived." In the middle of her narration, her voice broke. "Help me, sir."
Francis opened the envelope to read its contents.
Dear Francis,
You meant your promise didn't you? That you'll help me in my times of need? Then, please take care of Aimee. By the time you read this, something might have happened to me. Our orphanage's land is said to be rich and will be used to provide food for the military. We refused for we don't have anywhere to go. The military will begin taking measures now.
Francis, I'm sorry for breaking your heart, for choosing the church over your feelings. I regretted every day since that, hurting your over my decision. However, I never had second thoughts concerning serving the Lord.
If I chose to be with you, the orphaned children you have in your house right now, the ones I read from the newspapers that you adopted, could've been ours. Now that I was tasked to work with children, I keep on having thoughts like having your child or having a family with you, which is forbidden for a nun.
I'm sorry.
Francis closed his eyes and inhaled the warm air enclosed in the room. "Jeanne..."
His children's voices was a distant murmur.
"So, you loved me too."
Francis stood up. He has to make a decision.
"Aimee, welcome to the family." Francis took the little girl in his arms and cradled her head.
"I'm going to be your Papa."
Two orphan girls during the world war. A Vietnamese who became a prostitute. A girl adopted by a kind influential man. Fate can be playful. Fate can be cruel.