Chills backache

Congratulations! You're about to embark on the incredible journey of pregnancy. It's a time filled with excitement, anticipation, and a whole lot of changes. But along with the joy of welcoming a new life, taking care of yourself is key to a healthy and happy pregnancy for both you and your baby. So, let's explore some essential practices to keep you feeling your best throughout those nine months!
1. Finding Your Pregnancy Partner
The first step to a smooth pregnancy is choosing a healthcare provider you feel comfortable with, like a doctor or midwife. This person will be your partner in this adventure, checking on your health and your baby's growth at regular visits. Don't hesitate to ask questions – that's what they're there for! You can also talk to them about birthing classes or pregnancy classes. These classes are a great way to learn more about pregnancy, childbirth, and caring for your newborn.
2. Food is Fun for Two (But Not Literally!)
Eating well is super important for both you and your growing baby. Think colorful fruits and veggies, whole grains like brown rice or oatmeal, lean protein sources like chicken or fish, and healthy fats from avocados and nuts. Limit sugary drinks, processed foods, and too much caffeine. Your doctor might also recommend special vitamins to make sure you're getting everything you and your baby need.
3. Water, Water, Everywhere!
Staying hydrated is essential during pregnancy. Aim for at least 8-10 glasses of water every day. Water helps carry nutrients to your baby, keeps things moving smoothly in your tummy, and gives you energy. It's like magic water for you and your little one!
4. Rest When You Need It
Your body is working overtime to grow a whole new person! Listen to it and get plenty of rest. Aim for 7-9 hours of sleep each night, and don't be afraid to take naps when you feel tired. Feeling well-rested can also help you manage stress and feel your best during pregnancy.
5. Move Your Body, Feel Happy!
Unless your doctor says otherwise, exercise is a great way to stay healthy during pregnancy. Moderate-intensity activities like walking, swimming, or special pregnancy yoga classes can help you gain weight in a healthy way, improve circulation, reduce pregnancy discomforts like backaches, and boost your mood. Exercise can even help prepare your body for childbirth. Always check with your doctor about safe exercises for each stage of your pregnancy.
6. Say No to Bad Habits
Smoking, alcohol, and drugs are absolutely off-limits during pregnancy. These substances can seriously harm your baby's development and lead to complications. If you're struggling to quit smoking or using drugs, talk to your doctor for help and support.
7. Chill Out, Mama!
Pregnancy can be a roller coaster of emotions, with worries and anxieties being par for the course. But finding healthy ways to manage stress is important! Try deep breathing exercises, meditation, spending time in nature, journaling, or talking to a therapist. Prioritizing your mental well-being is crucial for you and your baby. Birthing classes and pregnancy classes can also be a great way to learn relaxation techniques and connect with other moms-to-be, which can help reduce stress and anxiety.
More Important Tips to Remember

• Pregnancy Classes: These classes can provide valuable information and support for navigating pregnancy, childbirth, and early parenthood. Many hospitals, birthing centers, and community centers offer these classes.
• Don't Skip the Dentist: Changes in your hormones during pregnancy can make you more prone to gum problems. Make sure to schedule regular dental checkups to keep your mouth healthy.
• Food Safety First: Being careful about what you eat is important during pregnancy to avoid infections. Avoid raw or undercooked meat and fish, unpasteurized dairy products, and deli meats that haven't been freshly prepared.

Every pregnancy journey is unique. By prioritizing your health, listening to your body, and seeking support from your doctor, loved ones, and pregnancy classes, you'll be setting yourself and your baby up for the best possible start. Embrace the incredible transformation happening within you, and enjoy this magical time!

Hello, this would be my third miscarriage within two years. I can’t even be happy about it because I’m scared I might miscarry. I found out I was pregnant a couple days ago, (17DPO, should be 4 weeks) but kind of already knew because all last week I had the symptoms, fatigue, sore tender boobs, backaches, cramping and appetite skyrocketing. I did experience a mild chills/ hot flashes like I had the fever for two days. (5th-7th) Missed my period on the 5th tested on the 7th and got a positive test. Yesterday I lost most of my symptoms, my boobs aren’t as sore as they were, I don’t have an increase appetite and not much fatigue. All I really have is side and regular cramps and mild backaches. I do have some white creamy discharge. No bleeding tho. I’ve been constantly testing my myself with premom hcg strips and my lines aren’t getting darker nor lighter. It’s a light pink but has a tan to it, definitely not the dark color that’s usually shown. Some are saying I’m testing too early and test every 48 hours. With my first miscarriage I lost my symptoms a week after my missed period and bled two days later. I’m really hoping this one is viable. Has anyone with LC had this happen and successfully carried to term? Really hoping this can be my rainbow baby.

35F non smoker non drinker, take b12, magnesium, vit c and d daily. April 25 I had absolutely horrific. I've since with stiffness of neck. All of my lymph nodes were (and are) lit up along both sides of my neck. This maintained for about a week and has gotten slightly better. 5/2 I got chills and backaches but no fever so went to urgent care who ran mono Covid strep rapid which were all negative but I'm still waiting on the strep culture. 5/3 chills and backache were gone. I've now developed a dry cough and sinus pain but have nausea and diarrhea. Still have headache and neck still hurts. My chest feels heavy but it's not in my lungs. Dr wants me to give it until this Friday to make it two weeks and thinks it's a nasty virus. Should I be concerned it's anything else? Should I get on an antibiotic? The nodes also hurt so bad

Previous Parts
Sitting across from my dad, the dim light of the living room casting long shadows on his face, I could see the toll recounting that story had taken on him. It was a lot to take in, the kind of tale you'd expect to find in books or movies, not in the life of someone you knew, someone as close as your own father.
He leaned back into the sofa, his eyes closing for a moment. The silence between us was heavy.
"Wow," was all I managed to utter.
"I always intended to go back for Tuyet," he began, his voice tinged with a sadness that seemed to permeate the room. "But life... life has a way of taking plans and twisting them into something unrecognizable."
“The US withdrew from Vietnam, and not long after, the South fell to the North. Everything changed overnight. I found myself a refugee, displaced, with nothing but what I could carry and the memories of what had been."
He sighed, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of years and continents. "After I came to America, everything was about building a new life from the ashes of the old one. I met your mom, and we started a family. Life... it just moved on, you know?"
My dad tried to stand up from the sofa, but the chemotherapy had taken its toll on his strength. As he wobbled, I rushed over, catching him just before he could fall. "Dad, you've got to be more careful," I said, helping him sit back down.
"Could you do me a favor? There's something in the closet I want to show you," he asked.
Curious, I made my way to the closet he mentioned. Pushing aside coats and boxes, I found a heavy wooden box hidden at the back.
Carefully, I pulled the box out and carried it back to my dad. His eyes lit up as he saw it. "After the ‘Liberation,’ I had to burn most of my personal effects from the war," he began, his fingers tracing the contours of the box. "But… I managed to save a few things."
I watched as my dad flipped the latch and opened the lid of the box with a reverence that seemed almost sacred. The first items he carefully lifted out were his medals and ribbons. They were worn, the colors faded, but the pride they represented remained undiminished.
Beneath the medals, a stack of photos caught my attention. I carefully lifted them, feeling the weight of history in my hands. The first photo was of my paternal grandparents, along with aunts and uncles. There was a big chunk missing from the side of the photo where my dad would be.
Next, I saw a photo of his platoon, young men in uniform, standing tall and proud. My dad pointed to himself, a much younger version, and then to others he had mentioned in his story.
There was also a more recent photo, taken a few years ago. My dad was sitting with two men, their faces familiar from my childhood. Uncle Lâm and Uncle Hùng. I smiled at the memory of them visiting our home, their families blending with ours during those visits. They were like extended family, their children like cousins to me.
"We never spoke of what happened, not even among ourselves," he confessed. “We were afraid. If the CIA ever found out what we saw, what we did... well, let's just say we weren't sure they’d leave us in peace."
"They've both passed, you know. Cancer took them." He paused. "Lung cancer for Lâm, and Hùng... pancreatic cancer.”
My attention was drawn back to the box as I noticed a scarf, its fabric tinged with specks of dark, half a century-old blood.
I gently lifted the scarf, holding it up to the dim light. The checkered pattern seemed to dance as the light filtered through its weave. It felt surreal, holding a tangible piece of my dad’s story in my hands.
Beneath the scarf, my attention was captured by a torn photograph. It was a picture of a young woman, dressed in a traditional áo dài, her poise and grace undeniable even in the simple black and white photograph, her smile radiating warmth and a sense of familiarity.
“Is this Tuyet?” I asked.
“Yeah, it is,” he said. "After all these years, I still think about her, about what life she led after the war. If she found happiness."
"Did you…" I started. “... Did you ever try to find out what happened to her?"
He sighed, a deep, weary sound. "I did try. But Vietnam was closed off to the world for years, and by the time it opened up again, I… knew it was too late. There was no longer a path back to her. I had to let go, for the sake of my family here, for your mom, and for you kids.”
I could feel the heartbreak in his voice. But I didn’t know what I could possibly say to make it better.
"You know, I've been thinking a lot about my life, especially now," he said. "My time is running out. I've made peace with that." He paused.
"I've lived a good life. I did some crazy shit in my youth. Then I came here and raised a beautiful family. What more can a guy ask for?" he continued, his eyes meeting mine. "But there's always been this... void, an unresolved chapter of my past."
I knew what he wanted to say before he said it.
"If Tuyet is still out there, if she's alive... I’d like to see her one last time. And if she's not, then I'd at least like to lay flowers at her grave. I owe her that.”
His gaze held mine, imploring me to understand the depth of his request.
"Dad, of course," I replied. "We'll find her together, I promise."
His hand reached out, gripping mine with a strength that surprised me. "Thank you," he whispered, a profound relief washing over his face.
—
The very next day, dad's condition took a sudden and unexpected turn for the worse. It happened so quickly; one moment he was sharing with me any details that could help find Tuyet, and the next, he was struggling to breathe. The cancer, which had seemed to be at bay, roared back with a vengeance, leaving us scrambling.
The end came in the early hours of the morning, with only the sterile hum of hospital machines for company. I held his hand, feeling the warmth slowly ebb away, until he was gone, leaving a silence in his wake that was heavier than I ever could have imagined.
The funeral brought my sisters and their families back from out of state. We gathered, a small, somber group under the cloudy sky, as we prepared to lay dad to rest next to mom, Loan, who had passed away years before.
Losing dad was like losing a piece of myself. The house felt emptier, the silence more profound. Yet, amidst the grief, a fire had been lit within me—a determination to fulfill his final wish. I would find Tuyet.
The task seemed insurmountable. Vietnam had changed so much, and all I had was a first name and a half-century-old photograph. But I couldn't let it go.
—
I considered my options. The only person I could think of who could help was Ash, an old buddy of mine who, alongside his wife Reine, ran a private eye firm out of New Orleans. They were somewhat of legends in their field, having solved a 25-year-old missing person’s cold case with little more than a faded Polaroid and a heap of intuition. It was a long shot, but if anyone could track down Tuyet after all these years, it would be them.
I dialed Ash’s number, the familiar tones echoing in the empty room, each one heavy with the weight of hope and desperation. The call connected, and Ash’s voice, deep and slightly gruff, greeted me.
“Hey, buddy, it’s been a while. What’s up?” he asked, the warmth in his voice a small comfort.
Catching up with Ash brought a brief respite from the gloom that had settled over me. He shared the news of Reine giving birth to twins, a boy, and a girl, the joy evident even through the phone line. "It's a whole new adventure for us," he said, his voice tinged with the unmistakable pride of a new father.
“Congrats on the twins, man. That's amazing news," I said, genuinely happy for him.
"Thanks, it's been a wild ride. How about you? How's everything on your end?" Ash inquired.
"Well, Mira's expecting, too," I revealed, the news still feeling surreal every time I said it out loud. "We're excited... and scared, all at once."
"That's fantastic, man!” he said, sounding ecstatic for me.
“Yeah, it is…” I managed to say.
“There's something else, isn’t there? I can hear it in your voice. What's going on?" Ash asked, his perceptiveness was impeccable.
I took a deep breath before I spoke. “Actually, I called to ask you for a favor, Ash. It’s… I need you to find someone. it’s important,” I began, my voice faltering as I tried to find the words to explain the magnitude of the task.
Ash paused, the silence on the line stretching between us. "You know, Reine and I have actually stepped back from detective life since the twins were born. Family first, you know?" he said with a hint of regret.
I nodded, even though he couldn't see me. "I completely understand. I normally wouldn't ask but… It's just... it's about my old man. He... he passed away recently," I admitted, the words heavy on my tongue.
"Shit, dude. I'm sorry to hear that," Ash's voice softened. "Your dad was a great man. Tell me what you need."
I explained everything to him then—the story my dad had entrusted to me, his final wish to find Tuyet, and the very little I had to go on. I could hear Ash listening intently, the occasional "uh-huh" signaling his engagement.
When I finished, there was a brief pause. "That's quite a story," Ash finally said. "I can see why this means so much to you."
"Yeah, it's... it's the least I can do for him," I said, feeling the weight of that truth settle around me.
Ash sighed deeply. "Look, I’ll have to run it by Reine first… But for old times' sake, and because it's for your dad, I'll see what I can do. I can't promise anything though.”
Relief washed over me, mingled with gratitude. "Thanks, bro. Really, thank you. I know it's a long shot, but even just trying means a lot to me."
"We'll need all the details you can give us, every little bit helps,” he says.
“Yeah, okay, sure,” I reply, feeling a surge of hope.
“And hey, let's catch up properly when you're not neck-deep in grief, okay?" Ash's attempt to lighten the mood was welcome.
"Yeah, that sounds good," I managed a small smile, the first in what felt like ages. "And Ash, thanks again. This means the world to me."
"No problem, buddy. We'll get started right away. And congratulations on the baby, by the way. That's something to hold onto, something new to look forward to," Ash reminded me, bringing a flicker of warmth to the cold space left by my father's passing.
—
Over the next few days, Ash kept me updated with regular calls and texts. Each time the phone buzzed, my heart skipped, hoping for the news I so desperately needed to hear. But as the days passed, those calls were filled with more of Ash and Reine's tireless efforts and dead ends than the breakthrough I was waiting for.
Then, nearly two weeks in, my phone rang with Ash's number. I picked up on the first ring, barely able to contain my anticipation.
"We’ve found her," Ash's voice came through, cutting straight to the chase.
“You did?” I asked, not believing my own ears.
"Yeah, we did," he confirmed, a tired but triumphant smile spreading across his face as he switched to FaceTime. Ash looked exactly as I remembered him, albeit with a few more grays and the unmistakable signs of sleepless nights etched under his eyes.
Reine appeared in the background, her voice floating in. "I'll join y’all in a sec. Just need to put these little rebels to bed."
Ash started, detailing their steps with a level of detail that was frankly astonishing. "So, first, we combed through military archives for any mention of a Tuyet fitting your description around the specified time frame," he said, his tone shifting to what I could only describe as detective-mode. "It was like looking for a needle in a haystack, considering how common the name is."
Reine finally joined Ash in front of the camera. Her hair was pulled back in a practical ponytail, and she wore a simple t-shirt that had seen better days, likely a casualty of motherhood. Her face, though tired, was alight with the excitement of their success.
"Hey, sorry about that. Bedtime is like negotiating with tiny, unreasonable bosses," she said, her slight accent danced softly on the edges of her words.
"We hit a goldmine when we stumbled upon a local newspaper article from 2018. It was a profile on a veteran named Đinh Mỹ Tuyệt," Ash said, his tone animated, reflecting the importance of this find. "She was described as a sniper during the War. The timeline matched perfectly with what you told us."
Reine leaned closer to the screen, her eyes bright. "The article mentioned that she's retired and living in Hội An. It even had a photo of her, and let me tell you, the resemblance to the woman in your dad's photo is uncanny," she added, her excitement palpable.
I was speechless, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within me. "That's... that's incredible. I can't believe you found her," I managed to say.
Reine nodded, a gentle seriousness overtaking her features. "We've made preliminary contact, just to confirm it's her. She's a bit wary, understandably, but she's open to meeting you. She mentioned something about 'unfinished stories' that needed closure."
"There's something else you should know…" Ash says, his tone suddenly serious. He glances at Reine.
"Chéri, you might want to sit down for this part," Reine suggested.
Confused and a bit apprehensive, I take a seat, my heart pounding in anticipation of what could possibly add more weight to this already heavy revelation. "What is it?" I ask, bracing myself.
Ash paused, as if gathering his thoughts, or perhaps considering the weight of his next words. "We found birth records... Tuyết had a son, Nhân, born roughly within a year of her meeting your dad."
The information hung in the air between us, a bombshell that seemed to warp the very fabric of reality around me.
"Are you saying...?" I asked.
Ash nodded, his expression empathetic yet unwavering. "Yes. We believe your dad is Nhân's father. You have a half-brother."
—
After the call, I was in a daze, my mind racing with the magnitude of what I'd just learned. A half-brother. A part of my dad's life, his story, that I never knew existed. The rest of the day passed in a blur, my thoughts a tangled mess of emotions I couldn't quite sort through.
The sound of the front door opening snapped me back to the present. “Spencer, I’m home!” my wife Mira called out. Her footsteps echoed in the hallway, her presence a comforting constant in the whirlwind my life had become in the past few hours.
"How did the doctor's appointment go?" I asked, trying to focus on the present.
Mira smiled, her hand instinctively resting on her belly. "It went well," she said. "The doctor says everything's looking good. Baby's healthy and growing right on schedule."
Mira and I had been trying to conceive for years, facing setback after setback. Each negative test, each failed attempt, had been a small heartbreak. But we kept trying, holding onto hope, supporting each other through every disappointment.
"That's great news," I replied, my voice genuine but distracted. Mira noticed, her gaze sharpening as she studied my face.
"Everything okay? You seem... off," she said, concern lacing her words.
I hesitated, unsure of how to even begin explaining the day's revelations. "It's... complicated. I found out something about my dad today. It's a lot to process."
Mira came over, her concern for me evident in every step. "Want to talk about it?" she asked, her voice soft.
I nodded, the floodgates opening as I shared everything Ash and Reine had uncovered. Mira listened, her presence a steady anchor as I navigated the stormy seas of my emotions.
By the end, the room was filled with a heavy silence, both of us contemplating the weight of what I'd just shared. Mira reached out, her hand finding mine, her touch a reminder of the strength we shared.
"I think I need to go to Vietnam," I finally said, the words feeling both freeing and terrifying as they left my lips. "I need to meet Tuyet... and Nhan."
Mira’s response wasn't immediate, but when it came, it was delivered with the same strength and understanding she'd shown me through every challenge we'd faced together. "Then you should go," she said, her voice firm yet gentle.
"But what about—"
Mira cut me off gently. "We'll be fine here," she assured me, her hand resting on her belly. "This is something you need to do, not just for your dad, but for yourself. And I'll be here, waiting for you to come back and tell us both the story.”
—
In the weeks that followed, I made preparations for the trip. The logistics were complex, the emotional preparation even more so. Mira was my constant, her presence a calming force in the whirlwind of passport renewals, flight bookings, and late-night worries that plagued me.
The day of my departure arrived all too quickly. Standing at the terminal of LAX, with Mira beside me, I felt the magnitude of the journey I was about to undertake. "Promise me you'll be careful," Mira said, her voice thick with emotion.
"I promise," I replied, wrapping her in a tight hug, feeling the solid reality of her, of us.
With one last kiss, I turned and walked towards the security checkpoint, not daring to look back, for fear that the sight of her standing there would unravel the delicate courage I'd managed to weave together.
The flight from Los Angeles to Sài Gòn was a grueling one. I found myself cramped in economy, sandwiched between a chatty tourist with a penchant for dad jokes and a quiet Vietnamese woman who spent most of the flight with her eyes closed, possibly in prayer or just seeking peace amidst the chaos of travel. As the hours stretched on, I tried to distract myself with movies I barely followed and music that sounded more like noise against the drone of the aircraft. Sleep proved elusive, my mind racing with thoughts of what lay ahead.
Upon landing at Tân Sơn Nhất International Airport, the wave of tropical heat hit me the moment I stepped off the plane. The customs process was chaotic. I was pulled aside for a “random check,” the customs official's eyes glinting with the unspoken expectation of a bribe.
Reluctantly, I slipped a few crisp bills into my passport as I handed it over for inspection. The official's demeanor shifted subtly, a nod of understanding passing between us before he waved me through with a barely perceptible smile.
The connecting flight to Đà Nẵng was shorter, the plane cutting through skies that transitioned from the deep blue of dusk to the inky black of night.
As soon as I disembarked from the plane at Đà Nẵng, I navigated through the modest but bustling airport to find a somewhat quieter corner. Taking out my phone, I dialed the number of the contact Ash and Reine had given me. It belonged to Duyên, Tuyet's granddaughter and Nhân's daughter.
The phone rang twice before a voice answered, clear and confident. "Hello?"
"Hi, Duyên? It's Spencer," I said, my voice betraying none of the turmoil inside. “I just arrived.”
"Ah, I've been expecting your call." Duyên replied, her English nearly flawless and tinged with a warm tone. “You'll recognize me when you see me. I'm just outside the arrival gate, holding a sign with your name on it.”
Thanking her, I ended the call and made my way to the baggage claim to collect my suitcase. Once I had my belongings, I headed for the exit, scanning the crowd for a sign with my name.
True to her word, it didn't take long to spot Duyên. She was younger than I expected, probably in her early twenties, with a bright, welcoming smile. Her sign, a simple piece of cardboard with "SPENCER" written in bold letters, stood out among the throngs of people.
Duyên's appearance was strikingly reminiscent of the young woman in the photograph my father had cherished. She had the same gentle eyes and the same confident stance. "Spencer Huynh?" she called out as I approached, her smile widening in recognition.
"Yes, that's me," I confirmed, extending my hand for a shake that she quickly bypassed in favor of a warm hug.
"It's good to meet you. Welcome to Việt Nam!" she said, stepping back to look at me again, as if trying to find traces of her father in my face.
"Let's get you settled. We have a bit of a drive ahead of us to Hội An."
Duyên led me through the parking lot. As we walked, she glanced over at me.
"So, what should I call you? Mr. Huynh? Uncle?" Her tone was playful yet respectful, acknowledging our familial connection yet uncertain of its boundaries.
"Just call me Spencer," I replied, smiling.
Alright, Spencer it is," she said with a nod.
As we stepped outside, the humidity enveloping me like a thick blanket, Duyen led me to our ride. My expectation of a car vanished when I saw a Honda Wave parked by the curb. My eyes widened in disbelief. "We're taking that?" I asked, gesturing to the small motorcycle, then to my suitcase.
Duyên giggled, sensing my apprehension. "Don't worry. We make it work here." With a deftness born of practice, she arranged my luggage and secured it, then handed me a helmet. "You'll need this. The police are strict about helmet laws."
I put on the helmet and climbed onto the back of the Wave, my hands tentatively finding a hold as Duyên kick-started the engine to life.
The ride was an experience unlike any I'd ever had. Duyên navigated through the chaotic traffic with the skill of a seasoned rider, weaving between cars and trucks with what seemed like mere inches to spare. Every honk and near-miss had me gripping the sides of the bike tighter, but Duyên seemed unfazed, occasionally throwing cursing at particularly errant drivers.
Trying to distract myself from the fear of imminent death, I struck up a conversation with Duyên, raising my voice to be heard over the roar of the engine and the cacophony of the traffic.
"So, how's life in Hội An?" I asked, raising my voice slightly to be heard over the noise of the traffic.
"It's peaceful, mostly. Touristy, but it has its charm," she replied, her voice steady despite the constant maneuvering. "You'll see. It's a world away from this."
"How's Tuyet? And Nhan?" I asked.
"Grandma's strong. But she's getting old, you know? She talks about the past a lot... I think she's looking forward to meeting you." She paused, navigating a tight turn before adding, "Dad's... complicated. He's had a tough few years."
Her words did little to calm the storm of emotions brewing inside me. The anticipation of meeting them was a tangled knot of excitement, apprehension, and a deep-seated longing for a connection I hadn't known I was missing.
I found myself holding onto Duyên tighter than I intended. "You're good at this," I shouted over the noise, trying to make conversation and perhaps distract myself from the precariousness of our mode of transport.
Duyên laughed, the sound barely reaching me over the din. "You get used to it!" she shouted back. "Besides, this is nothing. Wait till you see Hội An during the tourist season."
Before I knew it, the hustle and bustle of the city was far behind us, replaced by the tranquil beauty of the Vietnamese countryside.
As we entered Hội An, the city's famed lanterns began to light up the evening, casting a warm glow over the streets and the Thu Bồn River. The historical charm of the city was immediately apparent, with its well-preserved architecture and bustling marketplaces offering a glimpse into Vietnam's rich cultural tapestry.
Pulling up to a stop outside a traditional Vietnamese house nestled in a quiet street of the ancient town, Duyên killed the engine and dismounted the motorcycle. I followed suit.
"You ready?" she asked, her eyes reflecting the lantern light.
Taking a deep breath, I nodded. "As I'll ever be."
“Relax, Spencer, you’re among family here,” Duyên said, smiling reassuringly.
Duyên led me through the small, meticulously kept garden that fronted the house. The fading sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the path.
She opened the door and stepped inside, her voice echoing as she called out, "Bà nội (grandma)! I’m home. We have a visitor." Her words seemed to hang in the air for a moment before a response came.
A woman appeared from deeper within the house, a broom in hand as if caught in the middle of tidying up the house for guests. “This house is such a damn mess!” she lamented to herself.
Despite the passage of time, her resemblance to the young woman in the photograph was unmistakable. Her eyes, sharp and discerning, softened as they met mine. I instantly recognized her as Tuyet.
"Chào con," she greeted, her voice carrying a warmth that belied her initial scrutinizing glance. Setting aside the broom, she stepped forward, her movements carrying the grace of her youth.
“Chào cô. I’m Spencer, Thành’s son. We talked over the phone…” I said to her in Vietnamese.
Tuyết's eyes lingered on me, searching, as if trying to find traces of my father in my features. A multitude of emotions flickered across her face, settling into a tender smile. "Of course I know who you are," she reassured me. Extending her hand, she clasped mine, her grip firm, grounding.
As we settled into the living room, a cozy space filled with the light of the setting sun, Tuyet turned to Duyên and instructed her to prepare a pot of tea. The air inside was cool, a respite from the day's warmth, filled with the scent of jasmine and incense.
Once Duyên had left to make the tea, Tuyet gestured for me to take a seat on a cushioned bench near the window. "Your name, once more, please?" she requested, her voice gentle.
"Spencer," I replied, watching her face as she tried to wrap her tongue around the unfamiliar sounds.
With a soft chuckle, she shook her head. "These English names are too complicated for these old ears," she admitted. "Do you have a Vietnamese name?"
"Sang," I said, feeling a connection to that part of my heritage, even if it was one I rarely used.
"Sang," she repeated, with a nod of approval. "You look like a Sang."
As Duyên came in with the tea, the aroma filled the room, a subtle invitation to relax and share more freely. Tuyet poured the tea with practiced ease, her hands steady despite their age.
The conversation flowed easily, despite the weight of the reason for my visit. We chatted about my flight over, the discomforts of long-haul travel, and the vibrant chaos of Vietnamese traffic that had greeted me upon arrival. Tuyet told me about her frequent backaches. "Age spares no one," she said with a wistful smile, sipping her tea.
As the initial pleasantries gave way to a comfortable silence, I took the opportunity to present the items I had brought with me—the checkered scarf and the photograph of a young Tuyet. She studied them for a moment, her fingers tracing the fabric of the scarf, then shifting to the edges of the photograph. A myriad of emotions seemed to pass over her face, a silent conversation with memories long held.
Without a word, she stood and walked over to a corner of the room where a small altar had been set up. It was dedicated to honoring the dead, filled with incense, small offerings, and photographs of loved ones.
Among the photos displayed on the altar, I spotted the old torn photograph of my father. Next to it, almost protectively, was a patch bearing the tiger insignia of the Rangers. With reverence, Tuyet placed the photograph of her younger self next to my dad's. The torn edges of the two photos aligned almost perfectly, as if they were matching pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that had been separated for far too long.
"It's hard to believe we were ever that young," she murmured, her stare lingering on the altar. "Life was simpler, in some ways, and so much harder in others."
Tuyet sighed. "I couldn't let Nhân grow up bearing the stigma of being the son of an enemy soldier."
"I told everyone his father was a soldier from the North, one who had died fighting the Americans. It was easier, safer for him," she said. “So, in a way, I’ve been mourning for your father all these years.”
Tuyết returned to her seat next to me. "May I ask… How did your father pass?" she asked after a moment.
"Cancer," I replied. "It was... quick, at the end."
Tuyet nodded, a knowing sadness crossing her features. "I'm not surprised. Agent Indigo... it was a horror we didn't fully understand back then," she reflected. "It wasn't just those directly caught in its flames. We all suffered from its consequences. The fumes, the contaminated water... Hell, your dad and I waded waist-deep in that stuff! It seeped into our skin, into our blood, mutated us on a cellular level.”
The weight of her words hung in the air.
"It was years before we understood the full scope of the devastation," she continued. "Spikes in cancer cases, stillbirths, and birth defects... The government eventually caught on and declared the area a disaster zone. My family, along with many others, had to resettle here in Hội An."
Tuyet's gaze was piercing, as if she was trying to read more into me. "Have you... have you experienced any health complications?" she asked.
"Other than asthma, I've been okay," I replied
"Consider yourself lucky, then," Tuyet said softly, seeming not to believe her own words.
After a long pause, she asked, "Would you like to meet Nhân?"
Tuyet and Duyen led me upstairs, the wooden steps creaking softly under our feet. As we ascended, Tuyet shared more about her life and Nhân's. "For the longest time, I thought I’d been spared the worst of Agent Indigo's effects. I’ve never been sick a day in my life," she said. "Nhân grew up healthy, strong... He had a good life."
Reaching the top of the stairs, we paused at a door at the end of a short hallway. Tuyet lingered at the doorway as she continued. "It wasn't until he was in his forties that we noticed changes. It started small—forgetfulness, mood swings—but it got worse quickly."
Tuyet's eyes started misting over. "Duyên's mother... Nhân's wife... she passed away in a tragic accident a few years before that. I had to step in to help raise Duyên and put her through school.”
Duyên braced herself as she opened the door, her expression turning grave. The strong, unsettling stench of decay washed over me the moment the door creaked open. It was a smell that spoke of something deeply wrong.
Duyên called into the dimness, her voice wavering slightly. "Dad, someone is here to see you.”
A shadow stirred in the far corner of the room, the figure barely discernible in the scant light that filtered in through the drawn curtains. My heart raced as I stepped closer, my eyes adjusting to the darkness, revealing the figure of a man tied securely to a chair. Nothing could prepare me for what I saw next.
Nhan’s body bore the unmistakable signs of severe mutation: skin mottled with tumorous growths, limbs twisted in unnatural angles, and eyes that glowed with a feral, unsettling light. Agent Indigo had consumed him, leaving behind a grotesque shell of the man.
His head snapped towards us as we entered, the sound of the chains rattling against the chair's arms. The snarl that escaped him was chilling, a sound no human should make, filled with pain and rage and an insatiable hunger.
Fighting to stifle a scream, I steadied my voice, trying to reach whatever part of Nhân might still recognize kindness, or perhaps even family. "Nhân, I'm Spencer. Your... I'm your brother," I stammered.
At the sound of my voice, a low growl emanated from Nhân's throat, a sound that cut through me like a knife. His restraints creaked as he strained against them, his jaw snapping viciously in the air between us.
Duyên stepped beside me, her presence a small comfort. "He has his moments of clarity, but they’re becoming fewer and fewer," she explained softly, her voice heavy with unspoken sorrow. "It's been hard on us. But we manage, day by day."
—
That night, after a subdued dinner, Duyên showed me to a small bedroom on the ground floor they had set aside for me, its windows offering a view of the garden under the moonlight.
I settled into the cozy bedroom, the weight of the day pressing down on me. The moonlight spilled across the floor, casting shadows that seemed to dance with my tumultuous thoughts. My phone buzzed with an incoming video call, a welcome distraction. It was Mira.
"Hey, what’s up?” I greeted her.
“Nothing much,” she replied, her smile brightening the screen. “I just missed seeing your face.”
“Aww, I miss you too, babe,” I say, longing for her comforting embrace.
"So, how did it go with Tuyet?" she asked.
The question hung heavily in the air. I hesitated, unsure of how to navigate the truth of my encounter with Nhân. "It went great," I lied, forcing a smile. "She's... she's really something."
Mira's smile widened, but before she could respond, her expression shifted, a hand instinctively cradling her belly. "Oh, wait, you've got to see this. The baby's kicking like crazy."
She adjusted the phone, pointing the camera down to her belly. Watching her, the warmth of the moment was overshadowed by a sudden, sickening sense of dread. The revelation of Nhân's condition, the mutations, and the dire possibilities they represented loomed large in my mind.
Could the baby in Mira's womb be a ticking time bomb? Had I inherited the same mutation that had ravaged Nhân and passed it on without knowing?
Mira's voice pulled me back from the brink of panic. "Can you see it? It's like he’s trying to say hello to his daddy."
I nodded, my throat tight with unspoken fear. "Yeah, I see it. That's... that's amazing, Mira."

Previous Parts
Sitting across from my dad, the dim light of the living room casting long shadows on his face, I could see the toll recounting that story had taken on him. It was a lot to take in, the kind of tale you'd expect to find in books or movies, not in the life of someone you knew, someone as close as your own father.
He leaned back into the sofa, his eyes closing for a moment. The silence between us was heavy.
"Wow," was all I managed to utter.
"I always intended to go back for Tuyet," he began, his voice tinged with a sadness that seemed to permeate the room. "But life... life has a way of taking plans and twisting them into something unrecognizable."
“The US withdrew from Vietnam, and not long after, the South fell to the North. Everything changed overnight. I found myself a refugee, displaced, with nothing but what I could carry and the memories of what had been."
He sighed, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of years and continents. "After I came to America, everything was about building a new life from the ashes of the old one. I met your mom, and we started a family. Life... it just moved on, you know?"
My dad tried to stand up from the sofa, but the chemotherapy had taken its toll on his strength. As he wobbled, I rushed over, catching him just before he could fall. "Dad, you've got to be more careful," I said, helping him sit back down.
"Could you do me a favor? There's something in the closet I want to show you," he asked.
Curious, I made my way to the closet he mentioned. Pushing aside coats and boxes, I found a heavy wooden box hidden at the back.
Carefully, I pulled the box out and carried it back to my dad. His eyes lit up as he saw it. "After the ‘Liberation,’ I had to burn most of my personal effects from the war," he began, his fingers tracing the contours of the box. "But… I managed to save a few things."
I watched as my dad flipped the latch and opened the lid of the box with a reverence that seemed almost sacred. The first items he carefully lifted out were his medals and ribbons. They were worn, the colors faded, but the pride they represented remained undiminished.
Beneath the medals, a stack of photos caught my attention. I carefully lifted them, feeling the weight of history in my hands. The first photo was of my paternal grandparents, along with aunts and uncles. There was a big chunk missing from the side of the photo where my dad would be.
Next, I saw a photo of his platoon, young men in uniform, standing tall and proud. My dad pointed to himself, a much younger version, and then to others he had mentioned in his story.
There was also a more recent photo, taken a few years ago. My dad was sitting with two men, their faces familiar from my childhood. Uncle Lâm and Uncle Hùng. I smiled at the memory of them visiting our home, their families blending with ours during those visits. They were like extended family, their children like cousins to me.
"We never spoke of what happened, not even among ourselves," he confessed. “We were afraid. If the CIA ever found out what we saw, what we did... well, let's just say we weren't sure they’d leave us in peace."
"They've both passed, you know. Cancer took them." He paused. "Lung cancer for Lâm, and Hùng... pancreatic cancer.”
My attention was drawn back to the box as I noticed a scarf, its fabric tinged with specks of dark, half a century-old blood.
I gently lifted the scarf, holding it up to the dim light. The checkered pattern seemed to dance as the light filtered through its weave. It felt surreal, holding a tangible piece of my dad’s story in my hands.
Beneath the scarf, my attention was captured by a torn photograph. It was a picture of a young woman, dressed in a traditional áo dài, her poise and grace undeniable even in the simple black and white photograph, her smile radiating warmth and a sense of familiarity.
“Is this Tuyet?” I asked.
“Yeah, it is,” he said. "After all these years, I still think about her, about what life she led after the war. If she found happiness."
"Did you…" I started. “... Did you ever try to find out what happened to her?"
He sighed, a deep, weary sound. "I did try. But Vietnam was closed off to the world for years, and by the time it opened up again, I… knew it was too late. There was no longer a path back to her. I had to let go, for the sake of my family here, for your mom, and for you kids.”
I could feel the heartbreak in his voice. But I didn’t know what I could possibly say to make it better.
"You know, I've been thinking a lot about my life, especially now," he said. "My time is running out. I've made peace with that." He paused.
"I've lived a good life. I did some crazy shit in my youth. Then I came here and raised a beautiful family. What more can a guy ask for?" he continued, his eyes meeting mine. "But there's always been this... void, an unresolved chapter of my past."
I knew what he wanted to say before he said it.
"If Tuyet is still out there, if she's alive... I’d like to see her one last time. And if she's not, then I'd at least like to lay flowers at her grave. I owe her that.”
His gaze held mine, imploring me to understand the depth of his request.
"Dad, of course," I replied. "We'll find her together, I promise."
His hand reached out, gripping mine with a strength that surprised me. "Thank you," he whispered, a profound relief washing over his face.
—
The very next day, dad's condition took a sudden and unexpected turn for the worse. It happened so quickly; one moment he was sharing with me any details that could help find Tuyet, and the next, he was struggling to breathe. The cancer, which had seemed to be at bay, roared back with a vengeance, leaving us scrambling.
The end came in the early hours of the morning, with only the sterile hum of hospital machines for company. I held his hand, feeling the warmth slowly ebb away, until he was gone, leaving a silence in his wake that was heavier than I ever could have imagined.
The funeral brought my sisters and their families back from out of state. We gathered, a small, somber group under the cloudy sky, as we prepared to lay dad to rest next to mom, Loan, who had passed away years before.
Losing dad was like losing a piece of myself. The house felt emptier, the silence more profound. Yet, amidst the grief, a fire had been lit within me—a determination to fulfill his final wish. I would find Tuyet.
The task seemed insurmountable. Vietnam had changed so much, and all I had was a first name and a half-century-old photograph. But I couldn't let it go.
—
I considered my options. The only person I could think of who could help was Ash, an old buddy of mine who, alongside his wife Reine, ran a private eye firm out of New Orleans. They were somewhat of legends in their field, having solved a 25-year-old missing person’s cold case with little more than a faded Polaroid and a heap of intuition. It was a long shot, but if anyone could track down Tuyet after all these years, it would be them.
I dialed Ash’s number, the familiar tones echoing in the empty room, each one heavy with the weight of hope and desperation. The call connected, and Ash’s voice, deep and slightly gruff, greeted me.
“Hey, buddy, it’s been a while. What’s up?” he asked, the warmth in his voice a small comfort.
Catching up with Ash brought a brief respite from the gloom that had settled over me. He shared the news of Reine giving birth to twins, a boy, and a girl, the joy evident even through the phone line. "It's a whole new adventure for us," he said, his voice tinged with the unmistakable pride of a new father.
“Congrats on the twins, man. That's amazing news," I said, genuinely happy for him.
"Thanks, it's been a wild ride. How about you? How's everything on your end?" Ash inquired.
"Well, Mira's expecting, too," I revealed, the news still feeling surreal every time I said it out loud. "We're excited... and scared, all at once."
"That's fantastic, man!” he said, sounding ecstatic for me.
“Yeah, it is…” I managed to say.
“There's something else, isn’t there? I can hear it in your voice. What's going on?" Ash asked, his perceptiveness was impeccable.
I took a deep breath before I spoke. “Actually, I called to ask you for a favor, Ash. It’s… I need you to find someone. it’s important,” I began, my voice faltering as I tried to find the words to explain the magnitude of the task.
Ash paused, the silence on the line stretching between us. "You know, Reine and I have actually stepped back from detective life since the twins were born. Family first, you know?" he said with a hint of regret.
I nodded, even though he couldn't see me. "I completely understand. I normally wouldn't ask but… It's just... it's about my old man. He... he passed away recently," I admitted, the words heavy on my tongue.
"Shit, dude. I'm sorry to hear that," Ash's voice softened. "Your dad was a great man. Tell me what you need."
I explained everything to him then—the story my dad had entrusted to me, his final wish to find Tuyet, and the very little I had to go on. I could hear Ash listening intently, the occasional "uh-huh" signaling his engagement.
When I finished, there was a brief pause. "That's quite a story," Ash finally said. "I can see why this means so much to you."
"Yeah, it's... it's the least I can do for him," I said, feeling the weight of that truth settle around me.
Ash sighed deeply. "Look, I’ll have to run it by Reine first… But for old times' sake, and because it's for your dad, I'll see what I can do. I can't promise anything though.”
Relief washed over me, mingled with gratitude. "Thanks, bro. Really, thank you. I know it's a long shot, but even just trying means a lot to me."
"We'll need all the details you can give us, every little bit helps,” he says.
“Yeah, okay, sure,” I reply, feeling a surge of hope.
“And hey, let's catch up properly when you're not neck-deep in grief, okay?" Ash's attempt to lighten the mood was welcome.
"Yeah, that sounds good," I managed a small smile, the first in what felt like ages. "And Ash, thanks again. This means the world to me."
"No problem, buddy. We'll get started right away. And congratulations on the baby, by the way. That's something to hold onto, something new to look forward to," Ash reminded me, bringing a flicker of warmth to the cold space left by my father's passing.
—
Over the next few days, Ash kept me updated with regular calls and texts. Each time the phone buzzed, my heart skipped, hoping for the news I so desperately needed to hear. But as the days passed, those calls were filled with more of Ash and Reine's tireless efforts and dead ends than the breakthrough I was waiting for.
Then, nearly two weeks in, my phone rang with Ash's number. I picked up on the first ring, barely able to contain my anticipation.
"We’ve found her," Ash's voice came through, cutting straight to the chase.
“You did?” I asked, not believing my own ears.
"Yeah, we did," he confirmed, a tired but triumphant smile spreading across his face as he switched to FaceTime. Ash looked exactly as I remembered him, albeit with a few more grays and the unmistakable signs of sleepless nights etched under his eyes.
Reine appeared in the background, her voice floating in. "I'll join y’all in a sec. Just need to put these little rebels to bed."
Ash started, detailing their steps with a level of detail that was frankly astonishing. "So, first, we combed through military archives for any mention of a Tuyet fitting your description around the specified time frame," he said, his tone shifting to what I could only describe as detective-mode. "It was like looking for a needle in a haystack, considering how common the name is."
Reine finally joined Ash in front of the camera. Her hair was pulled back in a practical ponytail, and she wore a simple t-shirt that had seen better days, likely a casualty of motherhood. Her face, though tired, was alight with the excitement of their success.
"Hey, sorry about that. Bedtime is like negotiating with tiny, unreasonable bosses," she said, her slight accent danced softly on the edges of her words.
"We hit a goldmine when we stumbled upon a local newspaper article from 2018. It was a profile on a veteran named Đinh Mỹ Tuyệt," Ash said, his tone animated, reflecting the importance of this find. "She was described as a sniper during the War. The timeline matched perfectly with what you told us."
Reine leaned closer to the screen, her eyes bright. "The article mentioned that she's retired and living in Hội An. It even had a photo of her, and let me tell you, the resemblance to the woman in your dad's photo is uncanny," she added, her excitement palpable.
I was speechless, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within me. "That's... that's incredible. I can't believe you found her," I managed to say.
Reine nodded, a gentle seriousness overtaking her features. "We've made preliminary contact, just to confirm it's her. She's a bit wary, understandably, but she's open to meeting you. She mentioned something about 'unfinished stories' that needed closure."
"There's something else you should know…" Ash says, his tone suddenly serious. He glances at Reine.
"Chéri, you might want to sit down for this part," Reine suggested.
Confused and a bit apprehensive, I take a seat, my heart pounding in anticipation of what could possibly add more weight to this already heavy revelation. "What is it?" I ask, bracing myself.
Ash paused, as if gathering his thoughts, or perhaps considering the weight of his next words. "We found birth records... Tuyết had a son, Nhân, born roughly within a year of her meeting your dad."
The information hung in the air between us, a bombshell that seemed to warp the very fabric of reality around me.
"Are you saying...?" I asked.
Ash nodded, his expression empathetic yet unwavering. "Yes. We believe your dad is Nhân's father. You have a half-brother."
—
After the call, I was in a daze, my mind racing with the magnitude of what I'd just learned. A half-brother. A part of my dad's life, his story, that I never knew existed. The rest of the day passed in a blur, my thoughts a tangled mess of emotions I couldn't quite sort through.
The sound of the front door opening snapped me back to the present. “Spencer, I’m home!” my wife Mira called out. Her footsteps echoed in the hallway, her presence a comforting constant in the whirlwind my life had become in the past few hours.
"How did the doctor's appointment go?" I asked, trying to focus on the present.
Mira smiled, her hand instinctively resting on her belly. "It went well," she said. "The doctor says everything's looking good. Baby's healthy and growing right on schedule."
Mira and I had been trying to conceive for years, facing setback after setback. Each negative test, each failed attempt, had been a small heartbreak. But we kept trying, holding onto hope, supporting each other through every disappointment.
"That's great news," I replied, my voice genuine but distracted. Mira noticed, her gaze sharpening as she studied my face.
"Everything okay? You seem... off," she said, concern lacing her words.
I hesitated, unsure of how to even begin explaining the day's revelations. "It's... complicated. I found out something about my dad today. It's a lot to process."
Mira came over, her concern for me evident in every step. "Want to talk about it?" she asked, her voice soft.
I nodded, the floodgates opening as I shared everything Ash and Reine had uncovered. Mira listened, her presence a steady anchor as I navigated the stormy seas of my emotions.
By the end, the room was filled with a heavy silence, both of us contemplating the weight of what I'd just shared. Mira reached out, her hand finding mine, her touch a reminder of the strength we shared.
"I think I need to go to Vietnam," I finally said, the words feeling both freeing and terrifying as they left my lips. "I need to meet Tuyet... and Nhan."
Mira’s response wasn't immediate, but when it came, it was delivered with the same strength and understanding she'd shown me through every challenge we'd faced together. "Then you should go," she said, her voice firm yet gentle.
"But what about—"
Mira cut me off gently. "We'll be fine here," she assured me, her hand resting on her belly. "This is something you need to do, not just for your dad, but for yourself. And I'll be here, waiting for you to come back and tell us both the story.”
—
In the weeks that followed, I made preparations for the trip. The logistics were complex, the emotional preparation even more so. Mira was my constant, her presence a calming force in the whirlwind of passport renewals, flight bookings, and late-night worries that plagued me.
The day of my departure arrived all too quickly. Standing at the terminal of LAX, with Mira beside me, I felt the magnitude of the journey I was about to undertake. "Promise me you'll be careful," Mira said, her voice thick with emotion.
"I promise," I replied, wrapping her in a tight hug, feeling the solid reality of her, of us.
With one last kiss, I turned and walked towards the security checkpoint, not daring to look back, for fear that the sight of her standing there would unravel the delicate courage I'd managed to weave together.
The flight from Los Angeles to Sài Gòn was a grueling one. I found myself cramped in economy, sandwiched between a chatty tourist with a penchant for dad jokes and a quiet Vietnamese woman who spent most of the flight with her eyes closed, possibly in prayer or just seeking peace amidst the chaos of travel. As the hours stretched on, I tried to distract myself with movies I barely followed and music that sounded more like noise against the drone of the aircraft. Sleep proved elusive, my mind racing with thoughts of what lay ahead.
Upon landing at Tân Sơn Nhất International Airport, the wave of tropical heat hit me the moment I stepped off the plane. The customs process was chaotic. I was pulled aside for a “random check,” the customs official's eyes glinting with the unspoken expectation of a bribe.
Reluctantly, I slipped a few crisp bills into my passport as I handed it over for inspection. The official's demeanor shifted subtly, a nod of understanding passing between us before he waved me through with a barely perceptible smile.
The connecting flight to Đà Nẵng was shorter, the plane cutting through skies that transitioned from the deep blue of dusk to the inky black of night.
As soon as I disembarked from the plane at Đà Nẵng, I navigated through the modest but bustling airport to find a somewhat quieter corner. Taking out my phone, I dialed the number of the contact Ash and Reine had given me. It belonged to Duyên, Tuyet's granddaughter and Nhân's daughter.
The phone rang twice before a voice answered, clear and confident. "Hello?"
"Hi, Duyên? It's Spencer," I said, my voice betraying none of the turmoil inside. “I just arrived.”
"Ah, I've been expecting your call." Duyên replied, her English nearly flawless and tinged with a warm tone. “You'll recognize me when you see me. I'm just outside the arrival gate, holding a sign with your name on it.”
Thanking her, I ended the call and made my way to the baggage claim to collect my suitcase. Once I had my belongings, I headed for the exit, scanning the crowd for a sign with my name.
True to her word, it didn't take long to spot Duyên. She was younger than I expected, probably in her early twenties, with a bright, welcoming smile. Her sign, a simple piece of cardboard with "SPENCER" written in bold letters, stood out among the throngs of people.
Duyên's appearance was strikingly reminiscent of the young woman in the photograph my father had cherished. She had the same gentle eyes and the same confident stance. "Spencer Huynh?" she called out as I approached, her smile widening in recognition.
"Yes, that's me," I confirmed, extending my hand for a shake that she quickly bypassed in favor of a warm hug.
"It's good to meet you. Welcome to Việt Nam!" she said, stepping back to look at me again, as if trying to find traces of her father in my face.
"Let's get you settled. We have a bit of a drive ahead of us to Hội An."
Duyên led me through the parking lot. As we walked, she glanced over at me.
"So, what should I call you? Mr. Huynh? Uncle?" Her tone was playful yet respectful, acknowledging our familial connection yet uncertain of its boundaries.
"Just call me Spencer," I replied, smiling.
Alright, Spencer it is," she said with a nod.
As we stepped outside, the humidity enveloping me like a thick blanket, Duyen led me to our ride. My expectation of a car vanished when I saw a Honda Wave parked by the curb. My eyes widened in disbelief. "We're taking that?" I asked, gesturing to the small motorcycle, then to my suitcase.
Duyên giggled, sensing my apprehension. "Don't worry. We make it work here." With a deftness born of practice, she arranged my luggage and secured it, then handed me a helmet. "You'll need this. The police are strict about helmet laws."
I put on the helmet and climbed onto the back of the Wave, my hands tentatively finding a hold as Duyên kick-started the engine to life.
The ride was an experience unlike any I'd ever had. Duyên navigated through the chaotic traffic with the skill of a seasoned rider, weaving between cars and trucks with what seemed like mere inches to spare. Every honk and near-miss had me gripping the sides of the bike tighter, but Duyên seemed unfazed, occasionally throwing cursing at particularly errant drivers.
Trying to distract myself from the fear of imminent death, I struck up a conversation with Duyên, raising my voice to be heard over the roar of the engine and the cacophony of the traffic.
"So, how's life in Hội An?" I asked, raising my voice slightly to be heard over the noise of the traffic.
"It's peaceful, mostly. Touristy, but it has its charm," she replied, her voice steady despite the constant maneuvering. "You'll see. It's a world away from this."
"How's Tuyet? And Nhan?" I asked.
"Grandma's strong. But she's getting old, you know? She talks about the past a lot... I think she's looking forward to meeting you." She paused, navigating a tight turn before adding, "Dad's... complicated. He's had a tough few years."
Her words did little to calm the storm of emotions brewing inside me. The anticipation of meeting them was a tangled knot of excitement, apprehension, and a deep-seated longing for a connection I hadn't known I was missing.
I found myself holding onto Duyên tighter than I intended. "You're good at this," I shouted over the noise, trying to make conversation and perhaps distract myself from the precariousness of our mode of transport.
Duyên laughed, the sound barely reaching me over the din. "You get used to it!" she shouted back. "Besides, this is nothing. Wait till you see Hội An during the tourist season."
Before I knew it, the hustle and bustle of the city was far behind us, replaced by the tranquil beauty of the Vietnamese countryside.
As we entered Hội An, the city's famed lanterns began to light up the evening, casting a warm glow over the streets and the Thu Bồn River. The historical charm of the city was immediately apparent, with its well-preserved architecture and bustling marketplaces offering a glimpse into Vietnam's rich cultural tapestry.
Pulling up to a stop outside a traditional Vietnamese house nestled in a quiet street of the ancient town, Duyên killed the engine and dismounted the motorcycle. I followed suit.
"You ready?" she asked, her eyes reflecting the lantern light.
Taking a deep breath, I nodded. "As I'll ever be."
“Relax, Spencer, you’re among family here,” Duyên said, smiling reassuringly.
Duyên led me through the small, meticulously kept garden that fronted the house. The fading sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the path.
She opened the door and stepped inside, her voice echoing as she called out, "Bà nội (grandma)! I’m home. We have a visitor." Her words seemed to hang in the air for a moment before a response came.
A woman appeared from deeper within the house, a broom in hand as if caught in the middle of tidying up the house for guests. “This house is such a damn mess!” she lamented to herself.
Despite the passage of time, her resemblance to the young woman in the photograph was unmistakable. Her eyes, sharp and discerning, softened as they met mine. I instantly recognized her as Tuyet.
"Chào con," she greeted, her voice carrying a warmth that belied her initial scrutinizing glance. Setting aside the broom, she stepped forward, her movements carrying the grace of her youth.
“Chào cô. I’m Spencer, Thành’s son. We talked over the phone…” I said to her in Vietnamese.
Tuyết's eyes lingered on me, searching, as if trying to find traces of my father in my features. A multitude of emotions flickered across her face, settling into a tender smile. "Of course I know who you are," she reassured me. Extending her hand, she clasped mine, her grip firm, grounding.
As we settled into the living room, a cozy space filled with the light of the setting sun, Tuyet turned to Duyên and instructed her to prepare a pot of tea. The air inside was cool, a respite from the day's warmth, filled with the scent of jasmine and incense.
Once Duyên had left to make the tea, Tuyet gestured for me to take a seat on a cushioned bench near the window. "Your name, once more, please?" she requested, her voice gentle.
"Spencer," I replied, watching her face as she tried to wrap her tongue around the unfamiliar sounds.
With a soft chuckle, she shook her head. "These English names are too complicated for these old ears," she admitted. "Do you have a Vietnamese name?"
"Sang," I said, feeling a connection to that part of my heritage, even if it was one I rarely used.
"Sang," she repeated, with a nod of approval. "You look like a Sang."
As Duyên came in with the tea, the aroma filled the room, a subtle invitation to relax and share more freely. Tuyet poured the tea with practiced ease, her hands steady despite their age.
The conversation flowed easily, despite the weight of the reason for my visit. We chatted about my flight over, the discomforts of long-haul travel, and the vibrant chaos of Vietnamese traffic that had greeted me upon arrival. Tuyet told me about her frequent backaches. "Age spares no one," she said with a wistful smile, sipping her tea.
As the initial pleasantries gave way to a comfortable silence, I took the opportunity to present the items I had brought with me—the checkered scarf and the photograph of a young Tuyet. She studied them for a moment, her fingers tracing the fabric of the scarf, then shifting to the edges of the photograph. A myriad of emotions seemed to pass over her face, a silent conversation with memories long held.
Without a word, she stood and walked over to a corner of the room where a small altar had been set up. It was dedicated to honoring the dead, filled with incense, small offerings, and photographs of loved ones.
Among the photos displayed on the altar, I spotted the old torn photograph of my father. Next to it, almost protectively, was a patch bearing the tiger insignia of the Rangers. With reverence, Tuyet placed the photograph of her younger self next to my dad's. The torn edges of the two photos aligned almost perfectly, as if they were matching pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that had been separated for far too long.
"It's hard to believe we were ever that young," she murmured, her stare lingering on the altar. "Life was simpler, in some ways, and so much harder in others."
Tuyet sighed. "I couldn't let Nhân grow up bearing the stigma of being the son of an enemy soldier."
"I told everyone his father was a soldier from the North, one who had died fighting the Americans. It was easier, safer for him," she said. “So, in a way, I’ve been mourning for your father all these years.”
Tuyết returned to her seat next to me. "May I ask… How did your father pass?" she asked after a moment.
"Cancer," I replied. "It was... quick, at the end."
Tuyet nodded, a knowing sadness crossing her features. "I'm not surprised. Agent Indigo... it was a horror we didn't fully understand back then," she reflected. "It wasn't just those directly caught in its flames. We all suffered from its consequences. The fumes, the contaminated water... Hell, your dad and I waded waist-deep in that stuff! It seeped into our skin, into our blood, mutated us on a cellular level.”
The weight of her words hung in the air.
"It was years before we understood the full scope of the devastation," she continued. "Spikes in cancer cases, stillbirths, and birth defects... The government eventually caught on and declared the area a disaster zone. My family, along with many others, had to resettle here in Hội An."
Tuyet's gaze was piercing, as if she was trying to read more into me. "Have you... have you experienced any health complications?" she asked.
"Other than asthma, I've been okay," I replied
"Consider yourself lucky, then," Tuyet said softly, seeming not to believe her own words.
After a long pause, she asked, "Would you like to meet Nhân?"
Tuyet and Duyen led me upstairs, the wooden steps creaking softly under our feet. As we ascended, Tuyet shared more about her life and Nhân's. "For the longest time, I thought I’d been spared the worst of Agent Indigo's effects. I’ve never been sick a day in my life," she said. "Nhân grew up healthy, strong... He had a good life."
Reaching the top of the stairs, we paused at a door at the end of a short hallway. Tuyet lingered at the doorway as she continued. "It wasn't until he was in his forties that we noticed changes. It started small—forgetfulness, mood swings—but it got worse quickly."
Tuyet's eyes started misting over. "Duyên's mother... Nhân's wife... she passed away in a tragic accident a few years before that. I had to step in to help raise Duyên and put her through school.”
Duyên braced herself as she opened the door, her expression turning grave. The strong, unsettling stench of decay washed over me the moment the door creaked open. It was a smell that spoke of something deeply wrong.
Duyên called into the dimness, her voice wavering slightly. "Dad, someone is here to see you.”
A shadow stirred in the far corner of the room, the figure barely discernible in the scant light that filtered in through the drawn curtains. My heart raced as I stepped closer, my eyes adjusting to the darkness, revealing the figure of a man tied securely to a chair. Nothing could prepare me for what I saw next.
Nhan’s body bore the unmistakable signs of severe mutation: skin mottled with tumorous growths, limbs twisted in unnatural angles, and eyes that glowed with a feral, unsettling light. Agent Indigo had consumed him, leaving behind a grotesque shell of the man.
His head snapped towards us as we entered, the sound of the chains rattling against the chair's arms. The snarl that escaped him was chilling, a sound no human should make, filled with pain and rage and an insatiable hunger.
Fighting to stifle a scream, I steadied my voice, trying to reach whatever part of Nhân might still recognize kindness, or perhaps even family. "Nhân, I'm Spencer. Your... I'm your brother," I stammered.
At the sound of my voice, a low growl emanated from Nhân's throat, a sound that cut through me like a knife. His restraints creaked as he strained against them, his jaw snapping viciously in the air between us.
Duyên stepped beside me, her presence a small comfort. "He has his moments of clarity, but they’re becoming fewer and fewer," she explained softly, her voice heavy with unspoken sorrow. "It's been hard on us. But we manage, day by day."
—
That night, after a subdued dinner, Duyên showed me to a small bedroom on the ground floor they had set aside for me, its windows offering a view of the garden under the moonlight.
I settled into the cozy bedroom, the weight of the day pressing down on me. The moonlight spilled across the floor, casting shadows that seemed to dance with my tumultuous thoughts. My phone buzzed with an incoming video call, a welcome distraction. It was Mira.
"Hey, what’s up?” I greeted her.
“Nothing much,” she replied, her smile brightening the screen. “I just missed seeing your face.”
“Aww, I miss you too, babe,” I say, longing for her comforting embrace.
"So, how did it go with Tuyet?" she asked.
The question hung heavily in the air. I hesitated, unsure of how to navigate the truth of my encounter with Nhân. "It went great," I lied, forcing a smile. "She's... she's really something."
Mira's smile widened, but before she could respond, her expression shifted, a hand instinctively cradling her belly. "Oh, wait, you've got to see this. The baby's kicking like crazy."
She adjusted the phone, pointing the camera down to her belly. Watching her, the warmth of the moment was overshadowed by a sudden, sickening sense of dread. The revelation of Nhân's condition, the mutations, and the dire possibilities they represented loomed large in my mind.
Could the baby in Mira's womb be a ticking time bomb? Had I inherited the same mutation that had ravaged Nhân and passed it on without knowing?
Mira's voice pulled me back from the brink of panic. "Can you see it? It's like he’s trying to say hello to his daddy."
I nodded, my throat tight with unspoken fear. "Yeah, I see it. That's... that's amazing, Mira."

I managed to avoid COVID for four years but tested positive via PCR on Sunday 1/7. I woke up on 1/7 at 5am with chill, horrible headache, backache and sore throat. I have a 21 month old and started isolating right away. I took a rapid test and it came back negative but I ended up going to urgent care, did PCR and the following day the doctor called me to tell me I tested positive.
I debated taking Paxlovid but I ended up taking it on day 2 (Tuesday 1/9) because I felt so awful. I did feel better but not significantly. Day 0-5 were really rough. My symptoms included feveheadache, backache, mild congestion, sore throat, no taste/smell, no appetite, and I got tired quickly from doing basic chores such as laundry.
On day 6, I was still testing positive but the line was very faint. I would say by day 7 I felt better to the point where I felt a difference. I felt the best on days 8-10 but starting yesterday which is day 11, I started to feel really tired with a headache and congestion.
Today is day 12 for me and overall I don't see as terrible as day 0-5 but my congestion is definitely worse and my backache is back. Also my taste isn't as great as days 8-10 and I am feeling tired. I tested this morning and it was negative but I am worried about COVID rebound and just the unknown.
I am vaccinated and up to date with boosters and I am surprised COVID wiped me out for so many days. I know I should rest but a few days after I tested positive, my husband and 21 month old son tested positive as well even though I isolated in my room. My son had a horrible fever for two days, continues to have diarrhea, congestion and he developed croup! There was one day we were worried sick (no pun intended) because my son refused to drink fluids.
In terms of illness, I've only experienced the common cold and flu 1x. In both cases, I felt better day by day so I'm confused as to why after 12 days, I felt better for two but now feeling bad again.

I never thought I would have to leave my country to save my wife. But here I am, on a plane to Switzerland, with a suitcase full of cash and a desperate hope. She has been pregnant for two years, and no one knows why. The doctors have tried everything, from ultrasounds to MRIs, but they can't see what's inside her. They can't even tell if it's a baby or something else. Something I hope is just a complication from such a long term.
My wife and I had different views on having children. She had a hereditary condition that made pregnancy very difficult and dangerous for her, but she also had a strong desire to be a mother. She grew up as an only child and felt lonely. She wanted to have a big family and give her children the love and attention she craved. I loved my wife and wanted to support her, but I also worried about her health and well-being. I thought about adopting children who needed a home and a family. I thought that would be a safer and more compassionate option. We talked about it and agreed to try for a baby, even though it was risky and painful for her, but when she made it into her second trimester it was a blessing.
I thought I was ready for fatherhood. I had a stable job, a loving wife, and a cozy home; I was overjoyed. But the pregnancy didn't progress normally. Discomfort and pain became her constant companions. Morning sickness, fatigue, backaches, swelling, changes in sleep patterns, and other bodily changes made her miserable and exhausted. But that was nothing compared to the fear and anxiety that gripped me every day. She didn't show any signs of growth. She didn't feel any movement, except for pain. She didn't hear any heartbeat, except for silence. And the doctors didn't know what was wrong. We hoped for a miracle, but we got a nightmare.
Work-life balance was a joke. I could barely manage to get through the day, let alone support her and our baby. I felt guilty for working too much, but I also felt guilty for not earning enough. I tried to prepare for parenthood, but I had no idea what to expect or how to cope. I felt alone and overwhelmed.
Financial strain added to the stress. Medical bills piled up, and we had to dip into our savings. We worried about how we would afford maternity leave, childcare, and all the other expenses that come with having to perform so many tests. We had to cut back on everything, and we still barely made ends meet and make sure they were be no way miscarriage could happen.
Relationship stresses tested our bond. Pregnancy can put strain on any relationship, but ours was pushed to the limit. We argued more than ever, and we struggled to communicate and understand each other. We tried to be supportive and loving, but we also felt frustrated and resentful.
It's been 730 days. Not days of morning sickness and cute baby bumps, but 730 days of a swollen belly, endless doctors’ appointments, and a growing chasm between me and my wife.
It started normally enough. Positive test, excitement, planning for the tiny human on the way. But then, at month nine, something went wrong. The bump kept growing, but no heartbeat, no kicks, just an unsettling emptiness. Doctors were baffled, scans showed nothing but... shadows. Freaky shadows that sent chills down my spine.
New laws came in, shutting down any hope of invasive procedures. No termination, no poking around to see what the hell was going on. We were stuck with this... thing, growing inside my wife, stealing her life, and slowly poisoning ours.
We tried everything. Every specialist, every clinic, even lawmakers – all brick walls of apathy and legalese. No one cared that this wasn't normal, that her stomach was pushing against its limits, her legs and feet swollen like balloons. And every scan, every prod, every cold touch on her belly... it felt like scraping ice against my soul.
We used to be close, whispering dreams of the future. Now, the silence between us is deafening, punctuated only by her strained breaths and the creaking of the house settling in the dead of night. Sometimes, I stare at that monstrous bulge and wonder what it is, but I do worry more about my wife, and how this all feels for her.
I just wanted it to stop, and so did she. Whatever this was, it was stealing our lives. Even if it means silence, even if it means emptiness, and so I found myself, on a plane to Switzerland, with a suitcase full of cash and a desperate hope. She sat beside me asleep, but I soon noticed something along her stretched out shirt, a seemingly glossy steel shell had pierced through a skin.
We met a doctor at the airport, who took us to a secluded facility. He said he had a solution, but it came with a price.
“She might not make it.”, The Doctor said.
“I can’t survive any longer.”, My wife said.
So the procedure began. Dr. Petrov, a grizzled man, prepped our makeshift operating room. My wife, pale and fragile on the makeshift table, held my hand tighter than she ever had, her knuckles white against mine.
"Ready?" Petrov's voice rasped, a surgeon's mask obscuring his face.
My throat squeezed shut. "For what?"
"To pull back the curtain," he said, the glint of the angle grinder blade catching the sunlight. "For answers, even if they're not the ones you want."
I nodded, the lump in my throat immovable. Answers, any answers, were better than the gnawing void of the past two years.
The whirring of the grinder sliced through the silence, a mechanical shriek that sent shivers down my spine. It bit into my wife's flesh, the smell of burning iron filling the air. I squeezed her hand, a silent mantra of "it's okay, it's okay" bouncing against the walls of my skull.
Time morphed into a sickening blend of blood, bone, and metallic tang. Petrov worked with a grim efficiency, a sculptor chipping away at a grotesque statue. Every groan from my wife, every tremor of her body, was a fresh jolt of agony.
Then, a gasp. Dr. Petrov held up a piece of warped metal, its edges catching the light like a twisted halo. It pulsed faintly, an alien heartbeat in the sterile room.
"My God," Petrov breathed, his voice raw. "A shell. Wrapped around her spine."
My world shattered. A metal shell? Inside her? The phantom pregnancy, the cold void under her skin, it all made a horrifying sense. We weren't carrying a child, we were carrying… this.
My wife whimpered, eyes wide with a primal fear that mirrored my own. Her hand, slick with sweat, slipped from mine. I reached for her, but Petrov pushed me back, his face grim.
"We need to remove it," he said, his voice tight. "Now."
But as the grinder whined back to life, a new terror bloomed in the air, a metallic hum emanating from the shell itself. It pulsed, it resonated, before it slowly retracted its tentacles from my wife’s spine. Pushing itself out her to rolled over to the floor, as Petrov remained shocked. My wife lay still, her eyes empty, a vessel emptied of such a heavy thing.
As I looked down, and touched the shell. Petrov begged I stop, but I had to know what we had been dealing with. The shell gently opened and I wondered what to expect.. Until I met a beautiful baby girl, but her eyes weren’t right, they still aren’t. She’s growing up quickly, since that last week. She can talk now, and she really does love us, even helping her mom through her recovery, but I don’t know if she’s really mine, but what else can she be.

hello all, I know there are a lot of scary posts on here and some may seem negative but I just wanted to shed some light on what I’ve been going through. after I took abortion medication through aid access I bleed significantly for weeks (being careful to make sure I wasn’t filling up 1 pad in an hour for 2 hrs) and was clotting and cramping. everything seemed fine until about 2 weeks later I got off work and was at home with my boyfriend and felt as if I peed my pants. When I pulled my pants down I was met with the most blood I had ever seen in my life. I was standing in a pool of my own blood and immediately started frantically crying . I would’ve gone to the hospital if I didn’t have such an amazing doctor who answered my phone call at 2 am . There is a significant amount of tissue still left from abortion and I am having to go into surgery (D&C) to get everything removed . That was supposed to be today until I woke up with a 102 fever with chills , backache, headache , cramps , etc. called my doctor and had to postpone surgery due to high grade fever . Negative for Covid & Flu types A&B . Went back to my doctors office where I was poked and prodded to find out if I could be having an infection or something like that . I find out tomorrow of my results . This has been the worst 2 months of my life but I have remained strong because I have to be . There’s so much more that’s happened but I just am getting tired . I just wanted to let yall know the risks as well . I don’t know if all of the pain I went through was worth it is what I’m getting at . All my love, B

Just wanting some validation and any tips and techniques! On day 7 of testing positive, day 9 of symptoms— actually just tested negative. This is my second infection, I had COVID for the first time in July 2022. This illness is so bizarre! My symptoms were “mild” until about day 4/5 when the backache/hip ache set in. I had this the first time too but it only lasted a few days. Unfortunately, this time, it has worsened and made it very difficult to sleep or rest. Partly, it’s sore because of laying down— however, it feels quite different from usual muscle aches. I live in an achy chronically pained body as it is and am normally pretty active. The pain is worse at night, waking me up every few hours. Last night I also had full body aches and chills but no fever. It responds well to heat and Tylenol/ibuprofen but is made worse by stretching, even gentle yoga moves. Anyone else suffering in this way? Any tips, tricks, words of affirmation?

Last updated: 8 May 2023
This will be my life's work. Beethoven composed his fifth, Leonardo painted the Mona Lisa, J.K Toole wrote A Confederacy of Dunces. Reviewing Gurgaon's shitty craft beers shall be my legacy.
​

1. All places were visited during the afternoon, to avoid crowds (exceptions have been noted in Remarks column).
2. For places which have multiple styles of beer, I go for the dark beer first, followed by the wheat. Food is usually 1 chicken dish and 1 fish/ mutton dish. No Zomato Pro/ Dineout Pro etc. was used. Happy hours or 1+1, if available, was availed.
3. Rating is not an average, I take a holistic view of the beer, food, ambience, service and price. Nevertheless, quality and taste of beer has the highest weightage in my rating.
4. This is a work in progress. If you know of any places in Gurgaon that serve fresh brewed beer which I've missed, please let me know. Zomato is horrible in filtering out microbreweries. I intend to complete the whole list soon, with an average of 2-3 reviews per month.
5. 2022 Updates: March: Review for Manhattan, Quaff added. The Biker's Café doesn't have fresh brewed beers. April: Review for Striker Skybar; Downtown Galleria added. Inferno Brewpub is closed. May: Review for Daddy of Tastes, Local Sector 29, Striker Sector 29 added. Revisited Big Pitcher (best reviewed brewery so far). Added Duty Free Vayu Bar to pending reviews. June: Review for Drunken Botanist added. All pending reviews are on hold right now because I'm travelling. August: Review for Soi7, Ministry of Beer added; Drunken Botanist revisited. September: Review for Vapour Bar Exchange, 7 Barrel Brew Pub added. Added Brewdog, Norenj Fresh Beer Cafe and Tuckinn Fresh Beer Cafe on places to review. October: Bonus Review for Connaught Club House added (located in CP, Delhi). Soi7 Revisited. Added review for Tuckinn Fresh Beer Cafe. November: Review for Brewdog, My Bar Dockyard added. Duty Free Vayu doesn't have fresh beer. December: Boombox Brewstreet review added. Went to Factory By Sutra and Warehouse Cafe, none of them have fresh beer. Added Whiskey Amour on places to review.
6. 2023 Updates: March: Revisited Soi7 (terrible service). Added Lounge MRP Brewery on places to review. April: Partial review for Nowhere Terrace Brewpub, review for Biker's Cafe added (they've started serving fresh brews). May: Review for Factory by Sutra added (worst reviewed brewery so far). Added Good Fellas Pub, Toy Box on places to review

​

#	Name	Beer	Food	Ambience	Overall Rating (Not an Average)	Remarks
1	7 Barrel Brew Pub	7.5	6	7	7	Great dark beer, good lager, average wheat. They have happy hours till 8 PM and the bill was surprisingly light. They also didn't levy any service charges, appreciate that! The food was average though, and portion sizes were small (maybe that's why the dishes were cheap?). Recommend this place, was pretty empty during a weekday, so a nice place to hangout with some friends.
2	Adda By Striker	7	7.5	7	7	Dark beer wasn't available when I visited.
3	Big Pitcher	9.5	8	9	9	#1 Rated on the list so far, widest range of fresh beers available - The Irish Stout is the best I've had. Great ambience - outdoor seating recommended during winters. Ask for the Marzen Lager if they have and try the Mead! May Update: Visited during the day, quality of beer + staff attentiveness has gone down a bit. Not changing my original score - I will visit once more before taking a call on score revision, if any.
4	Boombox Brewstreet	6	7	7	6	Average place. Tried the Premium and Red ale.
5	Bottles And Barrels
6	Brewdog	8.5	8.5	7.5	8	Don't know why this is rated so low on Zomato. The IPAs (tried Hazy Jane and Punk) were on point. Food (steak + burger) was great, service above average. You can't take back beer in a growler though. Cons: Expensive. Booths are cramped. Visitor parking in One Horizon is very expensive as well.
7	Brewocrat Skybar
8	Clock Tower	7	7	8	7.5	Bit pricey compared to the others, but a nice place with nice staff. Dark beer wasn't available when I visited.
9	Daddy Of Tastes	8	6.5	7	7.5	Was pleasantly surprised by this place. They serve 3 types of beer and apple cider - the menu on Zomato doesn't list it. Irish Red Ale and Premium Beer is excellent. Ambience was pretty good too. Food could have been a bit better. Went on a weekday afternoon and place was chilled out - until a bunch of teenage girls walked in with a cake to celebrate a birthday. 🙄
10	Decode Air Bar
11	Distillery	N/A	N/A	N/A	N/A	Closed.
12	Downtown Galleria	8	7.5	6.5	8	Excellent dark beer. Premium beer is average. Food is above average. They have a special price menu on weekdays from 1 PM to 5 PM - due to this the place is pretty crowded. Some staff weren't wearing facemasks when I visited.
13	Downtown Sector 29	8	7	7	7.5	After much consideration, I will place them (along with Galleria branch) as the #3 best (dark) beer in Gurgaon. Really wish they would experiment and introduce new beer styles, they can afford it.
14	Duty Free - Vayu Bar	N/A	N/A	N/A	N/A	Fresh beer wasn't available. No happy hours at this place either. Had a quick bottled pint and left. Don't bother with this place.
15	Factory By Sutra	4	3	1	2	I like to think I'm a reasonable man, so if I rate a place a '2' they've really pissed me off. Beer was passable. Tried the Dark Stout. Food was poor. Chicken Tikka was undercooked and portion was small. Flies inside the place (we sat indoors). But service/ management was atrocious. Server lied to me that we should go for mugs instead of pitchers despite me pointing out that the pitcher would be cheaper (there was also no happy hour despite the FIRST page of the menu advertising it). He said we'll get discounts on the mugs and I took his word for it. When bill came, no discount was applied, and when asked he said there was nothing he could do since bill was 'too small'. Mind you, this was during a weekday afternoon, imagine what they get away with during weekend nights when the place is crowded. Congratulations, 'Factory by Sutra', you win the worst rated brewpub in all of Gurgaon.
16	Feel Alive
17	Good Fellas Pub
18	Gravity Spacebar
19	Green House
20	Inferno Brewpub	N/A	N/A	N/A	N/A	Closed
21	La La Land Brewpub	8.5	7	8	8.5	#2 rated on the list so far
22	Local Sector 29	3	7	5	4	This place pissed me off. Asked at the front desk if they have fresh beer available, guy said yes and indicated the 4 types on the menu. Went upstairs to find only the Belgian Wheat is available. Beer tasted watered down. Food was decent, but there were flies in the place. Shame, because the rest of the ambience is really good.
23	Lounge MRP Brewery
24	Manhattan Bar & Brewery	7	8	7	7	Dark beer wasn't available when I visited. Was able to sample the remaining 3. Amber Lager > German Wheat > Belgian Wheat. Ambience is okay, lighting could be better. Staff weren't wearing facemasks when I visited.
25	Michigan Taps	8	7	7	7.5	Good beer - solid, dependable place to go.
26	Ministry Of Beer	5	4	3.5	4	Sampled 4 beers (Belgian Wheat, German Wheat, Lager, Mango). Went with the German. Wasn't that great, tasted like a watered down Kingfisher. Food and beers were expensive compared to others in Sector 29, the premium is definitely not justified. Place was dark and dingy. Not someplace I'm comfortable bringing a lady.
27	Molecule Air Bar
28	Mystery Of Bar
29	My Bar Headquarters Dockyard	6	6	5.5	6	The good: They have a promo where you get a glass of beer for 49 INR. So ~200 for a liter of beer incl. taxes. The okay: The beer itself. Strictly average. The bad: Only Wheat and Lager available. Washroom was dirty.
30	Norenj Fresh Beer Café
31	Nowhere Terrace Brewpub	7.5	7	7.5	7.5	Visit for a corp get together. Could only sample the Lager (confirmed with the staff that it was fresh brewed). Pretty good, reminded me of a chilled Heineken. Will revisit to do a proper review.
32	Open Tap Golf Course	8.5	7	6	6.5	Visited during a weekday afternoon and was very crowded. Taking a point from overall score because of that (I'm very petty). Still, the dark beer is amongst the best I've had.
33	Open Tap Sector 29	8	7	7	7.5	I may be going crazy, but the beer in the GFC one is better. Maybe because the GFC brews their beer on site and this one gets them in kegs?
34	PitStop Brew Pub
35	Quaff Microbrewery	6.5	8	7.5	7	Tried the dark (Dubbel) and the Blonde Ale. Dark beer was disappointing, couldn't detect any coffee/ chocolate notes. Blonde was good. Food, service and ambience was above average. The low seating sofas gave me a backache though.
36	Reflex Bar and Brewery
37	Rockman's Beer Island
38	Soi 7	7	6	6	5.5	Partial review: Visited during the afternoon for a quick 1+1 dark beer, didn't try any food. Beer was pretty good. Revisit: Beer is still good, ordered a Chicken starter, was average. Service sucks. They have an uncle as part of the wait staff during afternoons, needs to be sent for training.
39	Smaaash C2H5OH Brewery
40	Striker Sector 29	7.5	8	7	7.5	Tried the Porter, Pilsner and had a few sips of the Mango Beer (think it's a limited edition for summer). Recommended - they had happy hours (1+1) on beer mugs when I visited.
41	Striker Privè
42	Striker Skybar Golf Course	7	7.5	8	7	A bit expensive since they have no happy hours or special price menu and the beers are also priced on the higher side (~800 for a pitcher before taxes). Tried the Dark, Marzen and Lager. Food was good. Was practically empty during the afternoon, seems a good place to spend a few hours and chill.
43	Tap House Brewpub
44	TFR Retro House
45	The Bikers Café	6.5	6.5	7	6.5	Tried Dark Lager (too sweet for me) and German Wheat, was decent but not spectacular. Service and ambience was good.
46	The Brewhouse Radisson
47	The Drunken Botanist	5.5	7.5	4	5	Tried the Wheat and the Dark - Wheat is much better compared to Dark (Dark felt watered down). Had only a sip of the Lager from the taster glass, didn't like it. Service and ambience were terrible. Despite 4-5 managers/ hostesses in green suits walking around, hardly anyone came to the table. Place smelt of smoke, not tobacco smoke, but when you're running a tandoor and don't air out the place. This was on a weekday at around 5 PM, God help you if you land up on a weekend night. August Update: Was here for a quick beer, not worth the price. I think this place is pretty overrated.
48	The Hook Brewbay	N/A	4	4	3	They didn't have fresh beers on tap. Bruh, what? "Brew" is literally in your name. Seafood is supposedly their strong point, but even that was nothing great.
49	The Whisky Bar & Brewpub	5	7	4	5	Visited during the evening, some corporate party was about to happen and most staff were involved in that, so that probably clouded my review. Still, beer wasn't great. Dark beer wasn't available when I visited.
50	Toy Box
51	Tuckinn Fresh Beer Cafe	7	8	8	8	Great place, tried the Stout and Red Ale during their special price hours (3PM to 6:30 PM). Food was superb, ambience is top tier. If you live around Sohna road, you need to check this place out.
52	Untapped Brew & Pub	N/A	N/A	N/A	N/A	Closed.
53	Vapour Bar Exchange	7.5	8.5	7.5	8	The OG Vapour on MG road (now closed) was the best, glad to see that the quality hasn't declined. Tried the Pale Ale and the Vapour Special (German Wheat was the other variant). Food was great. Staff were wearing facemasks, kudos.
54	Walking Street	4	6	4	4.5	Run down. Glasses and cutlery weren't clean. Visit only for happy hours or if you want to visit Sector 29 for a cheap date. But try the Rose beer.
55	Warehouse Café	N/A	N/A	7.5	N/A	The reason I added this in the list is because they used to have fresh beer back in 2017-18 or so, but not anymore. They do have Bira/ Bud on tap and the ambience is pretty good. The music playlist was lit.
56	Whiskey Amour
-	Connaught Club House, Delhi	7	7	6.5	6	Decent Dark Beer and IPA. Good food. But waaay too expensive. Each mug was for 499+taxes, pitchers weren't available. Not worth it IMO.

Stats

• Places reviewed: 29
• Places Pending: 21
• Places Closed: 3 (Distillery; Inferno; Untapped)
• Craft Beer Not Available: 3 (Duty Free Vayu Bar; Hook Brewbay; Warehouse Café)
• Bonus Delhi Reviews: 1
• Total: 57 Breweries

I took my 4 miso pills vaginally on saturday at 8:30 am. It is now sunday at 4:50 and here is the timeline. On saturday: Cramps started about an hour after i took the pills and were pretty consistent throughout the day, with some bad ones coming every now and then but it was nothing i couldn’t handle. My bleeding was light some times and heavy at other times but i never actually bled through a pad or experienced large clots as some women have, i only experienced very tiny little ones, maybe only a few that were the size of tiny tiny seeds. Any bleeding lightened tremendously around 8-9 pm, (12 hours later) and so did my cramps. This morning (now sunday) i woke up with a feeling of gushing blood, so i went to the restroom and there was a bit but not too much and i am no longer having cramps, backaches, or chills. I did take some medicine this morning but that was just incase they started again. I am quite nervous that i was either better 6-8 weeks and i heard the experiences can be quite dramatic, especially the days following but I am not experiencing that. Is there anyway someone can calm my mind hoping this can happen for some women of if there’s a chance that it failed?

Hey everyone,
So, about 10 months back, I started having this weird pain on the right side of my middle back. It really kicked up when I was standing for a long time, especially when I kinda bent my back a bit. It's just been getting worse since then.
Then, around 2 months after my back started giving me grief, this on-and-off pain at the bottom of my ribs popped up. The funny thing about this rib pain is that it always comes up on both sides at the exact same spot, never just on one side. Over time, the rib pain's become more like a daily thing, and it hurts more or less depending on the time of day. It's also started hurting in other places too, like the sides and back of my ribs, and even a bit higher up on the front.
Here's another odd thing: I feel this click when I push the bottom of my breastbone, but if I lie flat on my back, the click goes away and the pain usually chills out after a bit.
In the morning, I sometimes wake up with a bit of backache, but usually, my ribs feel fine, unless I've rolled onto my side in my sleep.
The really annoying part? It seems to be the worst when I'm sat in my work chair. That just gets to me, you know?
Anyway, I wanted to see if anyone here thinks this sounds like slipping rib syndrome? The thing that's bugging me is how the rib pain always shows up on both sides at the same time. Is that something anyone else has experienced?
Thanks in advance for any advice

Hey everyone,
So, about 10 months back, I started having this weird pain on the right side of my middle back. It really kicked up when I was standing for a long time, especially when I kinda bent my back a bit. It's just been getting worse since then.
Then, around 2 months after my back started giving me grief, this on-and-off pain at the bottom of my ribs popped up. The funny thing about this rib pain is that it always comes up on both sides at the exact same spot, never just on one side. Over time, the rib pain's become more like a daily thing, and it hurts more or less depending on the time of day. It's also started hurting in other places too, like the sides and back of my ribs, and even a bit higher up on the front.
Here's another odd thing: I feel this click when I push the bottom of my breastbone, but if I lie flat on my back, the click goes away and the pain usually chills out after a bit.
In the morning, I sometimes wake up with a bit of backache, but usually, my ribs feel fine, unless I've rolled onto my side in my sleep.
The really annoying part? It seems to be the worst when I'm sat in my work chair. That just gets to me, you know?
Anyway, I wanted to see if anyone here thinks this sounds like slipping rib syndrome? The thing that's bugging me is how the rib pain always shows up on both sides at the same time. Is that something anyone else has experienced?
Thanks in advance for any advice.

I'll just start off by saying I'm in the UK, and therefore extremely lucky to get good maternity leave!
I used my annual leave to start my mat leave early. I've been off 3 weeks so far and I miss work. I miss my colleagues. I miss my customers. I know in a few weeks, I'll be busy and chilling out with my feet up will seem like a dim and distant memory. But for now, I miss work.
Although, I do have terrible backache most of the time, which I don't think standing for hours on end at work was helping.

I recently experienced chest pains so went to the hospital where I had an ECG, chest X-ray and blood tests which all came back normal and they said it could be a case of anxiety.
Im currently experiencing headaches, backaches and sometimes restlessness and sometimes cold chills.
I don’t feel mentally anxious at all apart from thinking I may have something wrong with me which the doctors have not picked up on.
I have no thoughts of feeling like im not enough or thinking about an upcoming event or anything that would make me anxious.
The physical pains and tenseness just come out of nowhere.
Is this “normal” for anxiety?

I woke up today feeling very tired but I did hardly sleep the night before. It got chill out today and I was outside in shorts and a tank top which usually will give me a cold. I had severe period cramping but still haven’t gotten my period back. Headache yesterday but also didn’t eat too well due to stress from my baby’s father. Anyway, my throat was hurting this evening just a little and I started getting a slight cough. I remember when I got covid in February during pregnancy I did feel like this sorta. However, I’m up right now feeding my daughter (bottle) and I feel backache and chills are starting. Cheeks are warm like when I get fevers. I’m taking a test tomorrow but in case I do have it, what do I do! I pump so I have plenty to feed her. But we cosleep in a tiny room just her and me. Any advice to not get her sick? How to deal with covid so my supply doesn’t tank? She’s 5 months

I remember reading other people's timeline so I thought you might be interested by reading a very mild case of Covid timeline.
​
I ( F/35) am generally in good health. I am rarely ill or only get mild colds. I had the flu just once in my life. I have been vaccinated twice and got the booster last December.
Wednesday : exposure (?) : I went to a concert and the woman next to me wore a mask but kept sneezing and blowing her nose. I couldn't change seat unfortunately.
Thursday : I had a day off and spent my day visiting museums. I felt some kind of hot flush during the day and I started to sneeze in the train back home.
Friday : More sneezing and my nose suddenly changed into a faucet. Autotest positive, Antigen test positive. I start to feel very tired and sleep all day. Chills but no fever.
Saturday : Low fever when I wake up in the morning, more fatigue.
Sunday : Sore throat and backache during the night. I started to cough during the afternoon
Monday : Small cough
Tuesday (today) : bouts of coughing during the night. Day is ok. I am just feeling tired.
So far it's been very mild for me.