A Bánh Mì for Two

by Trinity Nguyen

my parents didn’t pry. They never do. They’ve always silently signed whatever academic forms I needed them to. I picked AP classes and submitted college applications on my own, skills I’ve learned from being a daughter of immigrants and the first of my family to go to college.

As Aunt Hiền leads me out of the room, I begin to understand that love contradicts. That when you have an overwhelming amount of love for someone, you can hurt them, too.

Why wouldn't you ask the aunt for details? Why would you vice all this way and get this cigar and not get the answers to your questions. A simple "what does she mean? " would have been a start!