Lucky in Love: A Saigon Serenade

Chapter 2: A Street Called Fate

The streets of Saigon buzzed with life as Evan trailed a few steps behind Mai An, his eyes wandering from her to the chaotic world around them. Vendors shouted over the hum of motorbikes, their stalls overflowing with fruits, vegetables, and colorful trinkets. The smells of sizzling street food, fresh herbs, and incense mixed with the thick, humid air, creating a heady, intoxicating atmosphere that always made the city feel alive. Yet, today, the usual energy that made him feel lucky didn't reach him.

Mai An moved swiftly, her head held high despite the exhaustion that clung to her shoulders. She weaved through the narrow alleys with a determination Evan had never seen. There was a purpose in every step she took, a rhythm to her movement that was different from the people around them who seemed content with the slow, casual flow of the market.

Evan's life had always been the opposite—drifting, floating through days without aim. Everything came easily to him. But Mai An... she was a force of nature, fighting against a tide he couldn't understand. And as much as he didn't want to admit it, he felt drawn to her.

"You don't have to follow me, you know," she said, not turning around but sensing his presence behind her.

Evan picked up his pace to walk beside her. "I'm not following. Just, you know, heading the same way."

She shot him a sideways glance, clearly not buying his excuse. "Is that right?"

He grinned. "Yep, totally."

Mai An sighed, the weight of her cart pressing harder on her arms as she navigated through the crowded market. Her cart was smaller today, just a few simple items left after a long morning of selling. The wheel he had tried to fix earlier was hanging on by a thread, making each bump feel like it could be the cart's last.

"You shouldn't have helped me with the cart earlier," she said, her voice tight.

Evan raised an eyebrow. "I thought I was being helpful."

"You weren't," she replied curtly. "I'll get it fixed later. I'm used to doing things myself."

He was silent for a moment, taking in her words. "Doing things myself." The phrase echoed in his head. He never had to do much of anything for himself. But this woman, she did everything on her own—without help, without luck. And yet, somehow, she was still standing.

"So... what's your story?" Evan asked, trying to sound casual, though he was genuinely curious. He wanted to understand what drove her, how she kept going.

Mai An sighed again, this time more out of fatigue than frustration. "There's no story. Just life. I sell food in the market, make art when I can, and try to pay off the debts my family owes."

Evan glanced at her. "Art?"

Her expression softened, just for a moment, but then hardened again. "Yeah. Not that it matters. I barely have time for it anymore. There's always something more important—like keeping my brother in school or paying for my mother's medicine."

Evan felt a tug in his chest. "That's a lot for one person."

Mai An shrugged, pushing a lock of hair out of her face. "You do what you have to do."

For a moment, Evan didn't know what to say. He had always floated through life, while Mai An seemed to be fighting an endless battle against circumstances beyond her control. Her life was a stark contrast to his, and yet, here she was, carrying a burden that would crush most people.

They turned a corner, leaving the main market behind, and entered a quieter street lined with old apartment buildings. Children ran barefoot, chasing each other with sticks and plastic bags shaped into makeshift kites. The street was narrow, shaded by a few trees, but the oppressive heat still clung to everything.

Mai An paused in front of a small stall, the paint chipped and the sign above it barely legible. An older woman, hunched over, sat behind the counter, peeling vegetables with swift, practiced motions. Mai An gave the woman a small, tired smile, handing her a few coins in exchange for some rice and vegetables.

"That's your family's stall?" Evan asked, trying to piece together more of her life.

Mai An nodded. "It was my mother's before she got sick. Now it's mine and my brother Bao's, when he's not in school."

"And your art?" Evan pressed. "Where does that fit in?"

"It doesn't," she said simply, packing the food into her cart. "There's no time for it. Dreams don't pay bills."

The way she said it struck a chord in Evan. There was a finality in her words, a resignation that made his chest tighten. He had spent his whole life without effort, without sacrifice, and here was someone who had sacrificed everything—including her dreams.

For the first time, Evan felt the weight of the privilege his luck had given him. He had never thought about the people who didn't have it, the ones who had to struggle for every bit of happiness or success. His luck had been a shield, protecting him from the harsh realities Mai An faced every day.

They began walking again, the silence between them thick with unspoken words. Evan watched her, feeling an unfamiliar urge to do more than just stand by. He wanted to help her. But luck wouldn't be enough for this. It wouldn't fix her cart or pay her bills or take away the debt that was dragging her down.

And for the first time in his life, Evan wasn't sure luck could solve anything.

"You know," he began slowly, "I could help you. I'm pretty good at... well, finding opportunities."

Mai An stopped walking and turned to face him, her eyes sharp and unreadable. "I don't need charity, Evan."

"I'm not offering charity," he said quickly. "I just—"

"I don't need your help," she repeated, cutting him off. "You've had it easy. I can see that. You don't know what it's like to work for something that might never happen."

Evan opened his mouth to protest, but the words wouldn't come. She was right. He didn't know what it was like.

Mai An turned and started walking again, faster this time, as if trying to outrun the conversation. Evan stood there for a moment, watching her go, feeling the weight of her words settle over him like a shadow.

For once, his luck had no answer.