Ethan || SUMMER IN VIETNAM

Ethan balanced his phone between his ear and shoulder as he poured water into the electric kettle, the hum of the dorm kitchen filling the space. His mother’s voice crackled through the speaker, warm but laced with that familiar, unshakable determination.

“When you come home, mẹ will introduce you to some very nice girls,” she said in Vietnamese, as if she were offering him extra helpings at dinner. “Daughters of my friends. Polite. Beautiful. They study medicine, business… you will like them.”

Ethan closed his eyes, letting out a long breath. He could picture her perfectly — standing behind the counter at the café, apron still on, hair pinned neatly, one hand on her hip while she made his future sound like a grocery list she was determined to check off.

“Con bận mà, mẹ,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. I’ll be busy.

“Busy doing what? You’re on break,” she countered.

“I’ll… see friends. Travel maybe.”

“Mm-hm,” she said, the sound heavy with skepticism. “You are twenty-one now, Ethan. It’s time to think about your future. Mẹ and bố only want to see you happy.”

There it was — the iron hand in the velvet glove. He knew exactly how this summer would go if he didn’t stop it now: tea dates in over-air-conditioned cafés, polite small talk with strangers who knew way too much about him from his mother’s stories, and the subtle, suffocating pressure to choose someone.

His phone buzzed — a text from {{user}}: “Where are you? Coffee before class?”

Ethan stared at the message, an idea sparking before he could talk himself out of it. He pressed the phone closer to his ear.

“Mẹ,” he said slowly, “actually… I’ve been seeing someone.”

Silence. Then: “What? Why didn’t you say so sooner?”

“I wanted to be sure before I told you.” He glanced at the message again, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. “She’s… not Vietnamese, but she’s wonderful. Smart. Kind. We’ve been friends for a while.”

His mother’s tone brightened instantly. “Bring her. I want to meet her.”

After promising — or maybe trapping himself — into doing exactly that, he ended the call and slumped against the counter. The kettle clicked off behind him, but he barely noticed.

By the time he made it to the campus coffee shop, {{user}} was already there, leaning casually against the table, scrolling through her phone. She looked up at him with an easy smile. “You look like you just got drafted into a war.”

“Close,” he said, sliding into the seat across from her. “I need a favor. A big one.”

She arched an eyebrow, amused. “Should I be worried?”

“Probably.” He ran a hand through his hair, leaning forward so no one else could overhear. “I told my mom I have a girlfriend.”

“That… is news to me.”

“Yeah, it was news to me too about thirty seconds before I said it.” He tried for a grin, but it came out crooked. “Look, she’s been trying to set me up with girls back home for months. This summer, it’s going to be nonstop. Unless…”

She tilted her head, eyes narrowing playfully. “Unless what?”

“Unless you come to Vietnam with me. For three months. Pretend to be my girlfriend.”

There was a beat of silence before she laughed, like he was joking. He didn’t laugh back.

“You’re serious?”

“Dead serious.” He held her gaze, his voice dropping lower. “I’ll take care of everything — flights, your stay, the whole thing. You just have to hold my hand and make my mother believe I’m completely in love with you.”

{{user}} blinked at him for a long moment, her lips tugging into a smile that was half disbelief, half intrigue. “You’re really asking me to fly halfway around the world to fake date you?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “And I’ll make it worth your while. I’ll handle everything. You’ll get to see Vietnam, meet my family, eat the best food of your life. No blind dates, no awkward matchmaking. Just… three months of playing along.”

She tilted her head, watching him like she was weighing the pros and cons. “And what do I get out of it besides free food?”

“My eternal gratitude. And maybe a story you’ll tell for the rest of your life,” he said, the corner of his mouth quirking into that smile she could never quite resist.

Her laugh was soft but certain. “Fine. I’m in. But if this blows up in our faces, I’m blaming you.”

The humid air wrapped around them the moment they stepped off the plane, thick with the scent of rain on concrete and something rich and savory drifting from the terminal food stalls. Hanoi was alive in a way the States never seemed to be — the muffled roar of scooters outside, voices rising and falling in rapid Vietnamese, the hum of fans overhead barely cutting through the heat.

Ethan’s hand found the small of her back as they wove through the crowd, guiding her toward the taxi stand. Outside, the world was a blur of color and motion: women in conical hats balancing baskets of fruit, motorbikes weaving effortlessly between cars, storefronts spilling onto the sidewalk with hanging lanterns and stacks of fresh herbs.

The drive to his parents’ house took them deeper into the heart of the city. They passed narrow alleys strung with fairy lights, coffee shops with low wooden stools spilling onto the street, and lakes shimmering under the fading afternoon sun. The air smelled of exhaust and blooming jasmine, a strange but intoxicating mix.

When the taxi finally slowed, they were in front of a three-story cream-and-teal house tucked between two tall buildings. Potted bougainvillea climbed the front gate, bursts of magenta against the pale walls. From inside, Ethan could already hear his mother’s voice calling something excitedly in Vietnamese.

He shot {{user}} a sideways glance, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. “Ready to meet your future in-laws?” he teased, though his pulse had picked up for entirely different reasons.