Losing loved ones during war is an all too common occurrence, but this doesn’t mean that the pain is somehow lessened. It was on the 17th, 17 January 1973, that Vĩ Nạ’s company, including her husband, was obliterated by an American B-52 bombing run, a final sortie of their Operation Linebacker II. I imagined what it must have been like: Vĩ Nạ, staring up into the sky as the bombers approached – a tiny, insignificant ant unable to escape.

The news of my sister’s death did little to help my recovery: in fact, it made things worse. The fever took hold of me once again and seemed unwilling to let me go. A few days later, Blanchet came to see me, but he didn’t say anything, he just stood at the foot of my bed, pondering something, and then left. I knew I was going to die.

That same day, as the sun set, Ngọc came round and gave me the same bit of news. I must say, however, that her method of relaying such bad news was entirely unexpected. That evening, as unconsciousness began to pull me under, I felt an icy draught pass across my face. I opened my eyes with difficulty and saw Ngọc standing alongside my bed gazing at me intently. I had never seen such intensity in her eyes. I had a premonition that she was about to tell me what Dr Blanchet had failed to that afternoon. With what little strength I could muster, I reached out and clutched her hand. ‘Ngọc, you don’t need to say anything. I know … Blanchet has already told me.’

‘Eh? Dr Blanchet said that at this moment … your body is rallying all its energies to combat the illness, and that’s a good thing.’ She held onto my hand as tightly as possible. ‘Fever is a good sign: it means your body is fighting the disease, it means you’re strong, and getting stronger. It means you’re going to be all right.’

I closed my eyes; there was nothing I could say. In the darkness, I felt Ngọc manoeuvre my hand onto something soft and warm. I heard her say, ‘Vı˜ Phu, this is yours. Do you like it?’

I struggled to open my eyes once again. Her white dress was pulled down past her shoulders, exposing her shimmering, silvery flesh. My hands had been placed upon her firm bosom – lost in the soft brightness of her skin. I thought I was dreaming, but Ngọc told me it was no dream.

‘Vı˜ Phu, I’m sure that once you’re better we can get married, right? Please don’t think I’m too forward, but I want to be with you … tonight …’

My eyes were fully open now.

Calmly she let her gown fall to the floor and gingerly climbed under the blankets.

The white gown was all she had been wearing.