The deafening roar of Hanoi's holiday engines fades into a soft, melodic hum as the mint-green Vespa glides along a narrow concrete path. Liam steers the scooter smoothly, his movements confident and relaxed. Behind him, Mai rests her chin on his shoulder, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist.
They are deep in the countryside of Ninh Bình, just a few hours south of the capital. Here, the chaotic gridlock of the city is replaced by endless, emerald-green rice paddies and towering limestone karsts that rise out of the earth like ancient giants. The air is cool, fresh, and carries the faint, sweet scent of damp earth and wild blossoms.
Liam brings the Vespa to a gentle halt at the edge of a wooden pier overlooking a glassy, mist-covered river. The world is perfectly still.
"Not a spreadsheet or a traffic light in sight," Mai whispers, stepping off the bike and stretching her arms toward the sky. "How does it feel, Mr. Consultant?"
Liam removes his helmet, his hair windblown and his eyes bright. He looks out over the breathtaking landscape, then turns to Mai with a soft smile. "It feels like I finally figured out how to balance the accounts."
He walks over to the Vespa's storage rack and pulls out a small thermal flask of hot ginger tea and two ceramic cups—a habit he proudly learned from the holiday riders in Hanoi. He pours the steaming liquid and hands a cup to Mai.
"My parents texted me from Tokyo," Liam says, taking a slow sip. "Mother said she bought a handmade silk scarf at the airport because it reminded her of the colors in the flower market. I think you broke through her corporate firewall, Mai."
Mai laughs, the sound echoing softly against the nearby cliffs. "I told you, Liam. Everyone loves the holidays. Some people just forget how to show it."
Liam’s expression turns serious, his eyes locking onto hers. He sets his cup down on the seat of the Vespa and takes both of her hands in his. The morning sun begins to break over the horizon, casting a warm, crimson and gold glow across the water and painting the mist in shades of pink.
"I spent my entire career looking for the most efficient path forward," Liam says, his voice dropping to a tender whisper. "I thought happiness was something you could schedule, a milestone you hit after enough promotions. But these past few weeks, from the Christmas motorbikes to the Tet rush, I realized the best parts of life are the detours. Especially when you’re riding with the right person."
He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small, delicately carved wooden keychain in the shape of a tiny Vespa, wrapped in a miniature strand of silver wire. Hanging from the center of the wheel is a brilliant, sparkling diamond ring.
"Mai, I don't want to just handle projects here," Liam says, dropping to one knee on the wooden pier. "I want to build a life here. With you. Will you navigate the rest of this crazy, unpredictable road with me?"
Tears of pure joy well up in Mai's eyes. She doesn't hesitate for a single second. "Yes! A million times, yes!"
Liam slips the ring onto her finger, stands up, and pulls her into a deep, spinning embrace. In the distance, a lone local fisherman on a wooden rowboat lets out a cheerful shout of congratulations, his voice echoing across the peaceful river.
As the sun rises fully into the sky, illuminating the vibrant new year ahead, Mai and Liam sit side by side on their trusty scooter. The road ahead of them is wide open, beautifully unmapped, and exactly where they are meant to be.
