That evening.In front of the mirror, Uy Phong adjusted the cufflinks on his shirt sleeves.The tailored suit hugged his frame perfectly, each seam precise, making the reflection in the mirror look more mature—more handsome—than usual. He gave himself a slight nod of approval, though an odd sense of restraint tightened somewhere deep inside his chest.
The reason he had to dress up this much tonight was simple—his parents had returned to the country.A grand "welcome dinner" awaited him, and he was expected to appear as the flawless son they always wanted.
Uy Phong drew in a long breath, exhaled, and shook his head as if to scatter his thoughts. Then, slipping on his suit jacket, he stepped out of the room.
***
At the XYZ Restaurant.The moment he got out of the car, someone hurried up to greet him politely."Excuse me, are you Mr. Hoang Uy Phong?"
When he nodded, the attendant immediately bowed and addressed him as "young master," before escorting him straight to the VIP room on the second floor.
Phong offered a courteous smile, thanked the staff member, and took a steadying breath before pushing open the door.
Inside, his parents were already there.This time… they had truly come back.
His father, Hoang Minh Triet, was a world-renowned businessman—a name that carried weight in every financial circle. A man so meticulous it bordered on obsession: every detail, every figure, had to be flawless.
His mother, Tran Le Anh, was the queen of gemstones and fashion.For her, "beauty" wasn't just a standard—it was a creed. She was the embodiment of perfection, forever chasing eternal and traditional beauty. What terrified Phong most was how mercilessly strict she could be about it.He sometimes thought, if I hadn't been born with a face that fits her idea of beauty, maybe she would've disowned me already.
The combination of those two rigid ideals… became an unbearable weight on Uy Phong's shoulders.His father demanded perfection.His mother worshiped beauty.And he—their only son—was never allowed to simply be himself.His childhood was a cage of discipline, his passions quietly smothered, his freedom something he'd never once truly tasted.
Now, sitting across from them, he felt as if every door to his own world was slowly closing.But no—he wouldn't let them shut completely.Not tonight. He needed to leave at least one open path for himself.
He brushed a hand down his jacket, took a deep breath, and pushed the door fully open.Behind him, it closed with a dull click—the sound of a world sealing itself away.
Uy Phong approached the table and bowed politely.Both parents nodded in approval; his mother gestured gracefully for him to sit.
He took his seat, hands folded neatly on his lap."Dad, Mom… you're finally back. Why didn't you tell me earlier? I could've picked you up at the airport."
His father gave a faint, dismissive smile, raising his champagne glass."No need to trouble yourself. We can handle our own travel. Your studies matter more."
The smile on Phong's lips faltered for a second. His mother quickly smoothed over the moment with a gentle tone."How have your classes been lately? You've settled in at school, haven't you?"
"Yes… it's fine, Mom."
She tilted her head, worry softening her voice."'Fine'? Then why do you look so down? Did something happen at school?"
"No, nothing like that. I'm just… a little hungry. When will dinner be served?"
His parents exchanged a brief glance. His father signaled the waiter, then chuckled lightly."Look at you—why so stiff? It's just a family dinner, relax a little."
His mother laughed softly too."That's right, Phong. Why do you always look so tense around us?"
He forced a small smile."I'm fine, really. Just a bit tired. I haven't eaten since noon."
"What? You skipped lunch?" His mother's brows knitted, worry laced with reprimand.
Uy Phong shook his head and massaged his temple."It's not like that… I just wanted to save some room—to enjoy this meal with you two."
They both paused, then chuckled.
"Oh, come on," his father said, amused. "You talk as if we're at some grand buffet. Skipping lunch just to eat with us?" He shook his head, half laughing, half scolding. "You know how these dishes are—fancy, but hardly filling."
Uy Phong gave a faint, dry smile. Resting his elbows on the table, he asked calmly,"Then why don't we go somewhere that is filling, Dad? Like a buffet, maybe?"
Their smiles froze.The room dropped a few degrees colder. Only the faint clatter of cutlery from the kitchen dared to break the silence.
Uy Phong's tone lowered, eyes sharp."Oh, right… I forgot. You'd never eat anything cheap, would you? Even if it actually made you feel warm inside. You'd still prefer something beautiful on the outside but hollow within. Just like this."
Neither spoke, but irritation flickered in their eyes.And Phong knew—his words weren't really about food.They were about them.
***
A while later.The faint sound of a fork hitting a plate echoed in the frozen air.His parents dabbed their lips with napkins—elegant, practiced, utterly emotionless.
Dinner was over.The warmth that should've filled the room never came—truth was, it had never been there at all.
Seeing Uy Phong still sitting, fork in hand, untouched food before him, his father clicked his tongue softly. He set his napkin down, stood, and spoke in a flat, cold tone:"When you're done, go home."
Without another word, his mother rose and followed her husband out of the VIP room.
The door closed with a clack,snapping the last fragile thread between them.
Uy Phong sat there, motionless, staring at the unfinished meal.After a long moment, his lips curled into a bitter smile.He dropped the fork—it clattered against the plate, the metallic ring sharp in the emptiness.
"Some dinner," he muttered under his breath."Didn't taste like anything at all."