Chapter 3
Three
GIA
Gia woke up about an hour earlier when Carson pulled into a gas station.
He’d apologized for disturbing her sleep, saying he needed to step inside for a refreshment, but she was grateful.
The stop gave her a moment to gather herself.
To mentally brace for what lay ahead and freshen up a bit, she’d slipped into the dingy gas station bathroom.
Her reflection under the flickering fluorescent lights stopped her cold.
Dark circles, too deep for her best concealer to mask, framed her swollen, bloodshot eyes.
The last breakdown had all but erased her makeup, so she reapplied it with robotic precision.
Foundation, concealer, mascara. Her armor.
It didn’t help much. She still looked awful. Sickly. Haunted.
Hours later, Carson pulled the SUV to a stop in the short driveway of Gia’s parents’ modest, two-story home.
The house was small. Its front yard was well-kept but simple, with neat hedges and a faded welcome mat.
From her vantage point in the back seat, Gia spotted a swing set in the backyard that hadn’t been there the last time she visited.
It looked recently installed for the kids.
A quiet pang of something—nostalgia, maybe—fluttered in her chest.
For someone who prided herself on appearances, Gia found it strange how little she cared in the moment. Vanity took a back seat to the overwhelming dread creeping in her chest. All she could think about was what came next.
She was terrified.
Her relationship with her parents has always been strained.
As old-school Vietnamese immigrants, they never truly understood her desire to leave Willowbrook, much less pursue something as precarious and image-obsessed as modeling and acting.
They saw her dreams as foolish—a betrayal of the sacrifices they’d made to give her a stable life.
And yet, she’d proved them wrong.
But at what cost? Was any of it worth it?
Gia’s fingers tightened around the strap of her bag as she stared out the window. Beyond the house, beyond the quiet street, memories of another looming presence cast a heavy shadow. Thao. Her older brother. Her protector. Her best friend.
Losing him had broken something in her. A kind of grief that couldn’t be put into words.
It wasn’t just the loss of a person. It was the loss of a tether—the only one who ever truly saw her.
He wasn’t just her twin. He was her other half and best friend.
Thao’s absence had been the final push she needed to leave Willowbrook.
She couldn’t stay in a place that echoed with his laughter, his music, his everything.
Sleeping under this roof again felt like crawling into a ghost’s skin.
She wondered whether Thao would be proud of her.
Or if he’d be ashamed. No doubt he would’ve hated what she’d done to herself in the worst moments—the drugs and alcohol, the reckless decisions, the self-destruction.
She liked to think he’d see how hard she was trying now.
Maybe he’d recognize the effort. The fight still left inside of her.
He was the only one she’d ever confided in about the darkness inside her. The dark voice whispered to her in the quiet moments, threatening to pull her under every time she let her guard down. Thao had never judged her for it. He let her be. Let her tag along on all his adventures with Jake.
Jake.
The name sent a spike of emotion through her chest. Anger, hurt, longing.
Betrayal. A whirlwind of memories she didn’t want to revisit.
His piercing blue eyes always looked right through her.
He’d seen too much, judged too quickly… and found her lacking.
It was infuriating. Her hands clenched as the memory of their last time together flitted through her mind.
She forced her hands to relax and reached for the door handle, teeth grinding.
If she ever saw Jake again, it would be too soon.
By the time Gia worked up the courage to step out of the car, Carson already had her bags lined neatly on the driveway. She fumbled for her wallet to offer a tip, but he waved her off with a kind smile.
“Miss Kim took care of the gratuity already,” he said warmly as he helped her carry the luggage to the front porch.
He tipped his hat in farewell before climbing back into the vehicle. Gia stood frozen, watching him back out of the driveway, and offered a small wave. Her heart was a tight knot in her chest. She wasn’t ready. Not for this. Not for whatever came next.
It took all of her restraint not to chase after the SUV, to beg Carson to take her with him.
The drive had been long but oddly comforting.
Aside from the breakdowns. It wasn’t often she allowed herself to be vulnerable around anyone, but Carson had seen more of her than most people in the past year.
She hoped he wouldn’t cash in on her mess for a quick paycheck.
“Gia Huy? Is that you?”
She turned at the sound of her name and spotted Minh approaching the screen door, drying her hands on a towel.
Her older sister stared back at her as if she were seeing a ghost. She pulled her dark hair into a bun on top of her head, but loose strands still escaped, framing her round face.
Gia’s shoulders sagged slightly in relief. At least she didn’t have to knock.
If you haven’t been home in over a decade, do you still get to call it your home?
Minh opened the door for her and helped maneuver the bags over the threshold. Gia definitely over-packed, but she didn’t care. A girl had to be prepared for every situation.
She slipped off her shoes and shut the door softly behind her, hesitating at the entryway. She spoke with Minh over the phone occasionally, but their relationship had been strained. Distant. Gia mostly kept in touch out of obligation and guilt. She still hadn’t met her nieces in person.
Gia placed her shoes on the rack beside the door.
Her socked feet on the linoleum reminded her of her childhood.
She stood upright only to feel arms wrap around her in a rare embrace.
She froze. She couldn’t recall ever having been hugged by her sister before.
Or anyone in the family, really. Physical affection had never been their way.
Her family showed love through how hard they worked to ensure the family as a whole thrived.
But standing there, being held, something cracked open inside her.
Tears welled in Gia’s eyes as she gently placed her hands on Minh’s back and leaned her head against her sister’s shoulder.
Minh smelled like home. Like simmering soup and warm spices.
It had been a long time since she’d had a taste of a home-cooked meal.
True Vietnamese cuisine was not watered down to appease Western taste buds.
Gia’s mouth salivated, and her stomach growled at the thought of eating.
Minh chuckled, pulling away enough to smirk.
“Come. I made your favorites. Eat. You’re too skinny.”
Gia offered a grateful smile, silencing the voice in her head that usually warned her not to eat. The one whispering she could always be skinnier.
Not today, Satan. Not today.
She didn’t want to worry about the calories or the consequences. Gia was going to indulge as she hadn’t allowed herself to in years. As much as she hated to admit it, it wasn’t like she had a career to go back to at this point. Not once the news broke on why she didn’t land the contract.
Gia needed to remember to block Jerry’s calls and texts. No doubt they’d start increasing in frequency when the world found out the news.
She hesitated before removing her sunglasses and setting them beside the ornate dish on the entryway table.
She wondered if the drawers still held all the hidden candy her brother used to leave for her when they were kids.
A sudden pang struck her chest as she glanced at the corner of the house.
Her heart stuttered, and her breathing became shallow.
She hadn’t thought about what it would feel like to see a physical reminder of her brother.
His familiar, teasing voice echoed in her memory.
“Come on, Gia. Are you scared or something?”
Only Thao ever called her Gia, not the Vietnamese version of her name, Gia Huy.
The simple act had made her feel less alone when they were kids, trying desperately to fit in.
They had both been born in America, while Minh was a toddler when their parents emigrated here.
Gia liked to think it was why she tried so much harder than Minh to prove she belonged.
Minh always felt comfortable with her heritage, while Gia felt like a stranger visiting.
“Gia Huy, come to the kitchen,” Minh called in perfect Vietnamese. Apparently, Gia could still understand her native language. Speaking it was a different story. She’d be surprised if she hadn’t lost the skill completely in the years since she stopped speaking the language.
Scurrying into the kitchen, she found it mostly unchanged, except for a new high chair across from where she sat. It was strange how familiar everything felt, like time had stopped.
“Where are the girls?” Gia asked, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. She tried to resist plucking at the tablecloth, but some habits were hard to break. The dark material was soft as she rolled it between her fingertips. The nervous habit calmed her frayed nerves.
“Th?y Mai’s at school,” Minh answered, glancing at the wall clock. “And Tuy?t Mai’s napping. She’ll be up soon.”
Minh moved to the stove and began ladling out a steaming bowl of ph? bò viên. Gia’s throat tightened again. Her favorite, noodle soup with beef meatballs. Minh placed the bowl before her, followed by a soup spoon and chopsticks, already knowing how Gia liked it.
“You still like ph? bò viên, I hope.” Minh’s voice was soft as she looked down at Gia.
She blinked away tears, and Minh turned away. Pretending not to see her tears, which Gia was thankful for.
Sniffing, Gia reached for the condiments, a permanent staple on their dining room table.
She artfully layered sriracha and hoisin sauce over the noodles in practiced spirals.
She returned the bottles to their rightful place after squirting some onto a side plate, a ritual she needed to complete before eating.
Thao thought it was crazy how specific she was with her pre-meal preparations.
He usually squirted a giant heap before mixing it all together and shoving the food into his giant mouth.
In response to his teasing, she’d throw a bean sprout at his face and laugh when he tried to catch it with his mouth.
Minh would glare at the two of them while their parents ignored their shenanigans.
The steam from the hot soup wafted off the bowl in delicious, mouthwatering waves.
It smelled so good. So familiar. So much like home.
She stirred with her chopsticks until the broth darkened, plucked out the noodles, blew on them, then wrapped the long strands carefully onto the spoon.
The noodles sat on her soup spoon like a satisfying mountain of joy.
Slowly, almost reverently, she scooped some fresh broth to join her noodle mountain.
Finally, she plucked a meatball from the broth and dunked it in sauce before popping it into her waiting mouth.
As she began chewing on the meatball, she shoved the spoonful of noodles and hot soup inside her mouth.
Her taste buds exploded with flavors and textures of the sweet and spicy broth, meatball, and soft noodles.
Her body sagged with relief and pleasure, and she groaned softly.
It tasted like home and was exactly as she remembered.
“You haven’t changed at all,” Minh said, amused at her antics. Sitting across from her, Gia noticed for the first time how much older Minh looked compared to the last time she’d seen her. Silver strands wove up to where her dark hair rested on top of her head.
Gia also noticed familiar dark circles under her sister’s eyes. Guess neither of them was sleeping well. She probably resembled Gollum when he found the One Ring. Gia looked up sheepishly, mouth full, and glimpsed tears in Minh’s eyes. That struck her harder than any words.
“Thank you. It’s delicious,” Gia murmured, wiping her mouth. She noticed Minh didn’t have a bowl. Swallowing down the mouthful of food, she sat up straighter. Remembered her posture at the dinner table. If her mom saw her right now, Gia was sure she would have words to say.
“Aren’t you eating?”
Minh shook her head but didn’t answer. A small cry echoed down the hallway, and she sighed, standing up.
“Guess she’s up,” Minh said with a grimace before disappearing down the hallway.
Gia was almost done eating when Minh returned, holding a sleepy two-year-old. Tuy?t Mai blinked at Gia with large, curious eyes.
“Tuy?t Mai, this is your auntie.”
Gia froze. She wasn’t used to children. The little girl wriggled out of Minh’s arms and toddled over, standing beside Gia’s chair.
Gia hesitantly waved. Tuy?t Mai stared, unimpressed. Then she lifted her arms.
“Up, Auntie!”
“Oh, okay.” Gia bent down and lifted her onto her lap. The little one immediately began playing with Gia’s hair, tiny fingers weaving through the strands.
Across the table, Minh smirked at Gia’s helpless expression.
“Gia Huy, what’s that on your neck?” Minh’s voice turned sharp.
Gia’s hand flew to the collar of her sweater.
“Oh, uh, nothing.” She knew Minh didn’t believe her. Her sister’s jaw tightened, but thankfully, she let it go.
Tuy?t Mai gave Gia’s hair a hard tug, and Gia winced.
“Hey, you. I’m your auntie,” she breathed, gazing into the toddler’s familiar brown eyes. Something in her heart softened. Her knee started bouncing, unsure of what to do to entertain a two-year-old.
Minh leaned back in her chair.
“I have to help at the restaurant later. Do you want to come? Or stay home with Tuy?t Mai?”
Gia’s pulse spiked. She should not be alone with a toddler. She did not know how to care for a child or how to change a freaking diaper.
“I’ll come with you,” she blurted.
Might as well get it over with.
She knew she would have to face her parents eventually.
Whatever came next, she had already stepped through the door.
No turning back now.