Chapter 3 — A Marriage Where Love Was Buried

My mother smiled and said it was unnecessary, urging me to hurry to the hospital and not waste any time. Then she stood there, watching as I walked toward the car. I forced myself to walk calmly to the vehicle, opened the door, and got inside, though it still felt like I was treading on cotton, entirely surreal. It wasn't until she turned her head to wave goodbye that I jolted awake as if from a dream. Tears spilled uncontrollably, and I urged her, "Drive quickly! I'm afraid my mother will realize something is wrong!" She nodded, immediately pressing down on the accelerator to pull away from the apartment complex. Just as the car reached the gate, I saw Aaron driving back; our vehicles passed each other going in opposite directions. The moment we brushed past, our eyes accidentally met through the glass window. I felt as though my breath had stopped, my heart pounding wildly, and I clutched the baby swaddle tightly in my arms, terrified that my escape plan would be crushed in its infancy. Fortunately, Aaron merely glanced briefly before turning his wheel to drive inside. And I finally left the residential compound. As the car sped out onto the main road, I gazed at the scenery rolling past the window. Everything remained the familiar, everyday sight, yet I had the distinct sensation of beginning an entirely new life.

Until my phone suddenly rang. Startled, I instinctively pressed the answer button. My mother's voice boomed through the speakerphone, echoing loudly inside the car.

"Loan!"

"Where on earth are you!"

"Aaron said there isn't even a medical check-up scheduled for today!"

Her piercing voice resounded within the vehicle, harsher and more grating than ever before: "I told you to stop acting up, why won't you understand! You are a grown woman and yet you pull stunts like running away from home!"

"You may have no shame, but your mother still cares about her dignity! Turn right back around this instant and apologize to Aaron!"

"Did you hear me!"

"Lam Loan! Answer me, Lam Loan!"

"Are you deaf?!"

The very next second, the kind woman beside me picked up the phone that had slipped onto the seat. I looked at her in panic, but she merely smiled gently, ended the call, and switched the phone to airplane mode. She turned to me and said, "Don't be afraid. You are free now." In that exact moment, my heart finally settled back onto the earth after days of floating anxiously in midair. Only then did I realize that I had broken out into a cold sweat. Every single second while planning my escape from Aaron, I had felt as though I were playing a game of minesweeper, where a single misstep would mean being blown to pieces right where I stood. I had once believed that my entire life would remain trapped in that dismal reality. It wasn't until I set foot into that large shelter—a sanctuary filled with numerous women just like me, gathered together because of shared pasts of domestic violence—that I finally broke down and wept aloud. Every sister in the communal house possessed a story mirroring mine, serving to some degree as another version of myself. Some had been forced into marriages, others battered after being matched through arranged introductions, and some, like me, had chosen love freely only to misjudge their partner. Yet here we all were, united into a collective strength, standing together to fight back against a world that had not yet truly learned to treat women fairly.

Just one day after my departure, sisters in the group reported that Aaron had started live-streaming to search for his runaway wife. He continued to play the role of the perfect husband, weeping with swollen eyes before the lens, claiming that I had taken our child and left in a fit of pique. He even announced a generous reward for anyone who could help track me down. The comment section below quickly flooded with responses. Countless oblivious onlookers enthusiastically chimed in to offer their help, and some even speculated, "Just looking at this brother you can tell he's a family man, I don't know why his wife would walk out on him, I bet eight or nine out of ten times she's seeing someone else."

"I support him! Why else would she sneak away if there wasn't another man involved? If you want a divorce, do it out in the open! Isn't she just acting guilty because she has something to hide?"

Outsiders never cared about the truth. A mere flicker of baseless speculation in their minds was enough to fabricate an entire, cohesive narrative. The other women reassured me not to worry, telling me to rest easy here, and that they would take care of both me and my baby. Yet, by the very next day, Aaron had gone straight to the police station. He filed a missing person report, demanding that the authorities investigate my whereabouts. I still could not comprehend it. It was abundantly clear that he already had someone else, so why was he clinging so obsessively, refusing to let go?

The day I ran into Aaron again, rain poured down in torrents. Word had it that my companion was on her way to sign a contract when the police recognized her. Because Aaron's "husband live-streaming to find his wife" stunt had caused such a massive public uproar, the police had used surveillance footage to track both of us down. And so, I found myself standing inside the police station, actively requesting the missing person case to be dismissed and finally mustering the courage to demand a divorce from Aaron. Right there in the station, I listed out and handed over a complete set of duplicate evidence, proving that Aaron had abused me during my postpartum confinement, beating me so severely that my surgical stitches tore and I had to be hospitalized. Furthermore, not only had he shown no remorse afterward, but he had also secretly carried on an affair with another woman before escalating his physical violence against me once more. This dossier included every medical exam record, diagnostic report, and home security camera footage from that period. To secure irrefutable proof of his infidelity, I had previously feigned a submissive attitude of tolerating a polygamous dynamic, which meant he had let his guard down entirely during that phase, allowing me to easily gather solid evidence of his betrayal.

Now, armed with all this undeniable proof, I demanded that Aaron retract his police report. Aaron stared down at me from above. His gaze was not that of a husband reuniting with his wife, but rather that of a predatory beast gleefully watching its prey cornered into an alley, making my skin crawl. Suppressing the terror churning in my gut, I demanded to know whether he would comply. Aaron merely chuckled, "Loan, how could I possibly say no?" He took a step closer to me, "You've lost so much weight. When you were with me, I never had the heart to let you do heavy labor—just look at what you've done to yourself."

I backed away a few steps. "Don't come near me."

Yet Aaron pressed forward. "You've become disobedient."

Suddenly, I was yanked backward forcefully. Startled, I spun around only to receive a blinding slap across the face from my mother. She shrieked, "Where on earth did you go?! Because of you, I've lost all my dignity, do you hear me!" Staring at my mother, I suddenly caught the haunting shadow of my father in her features. She grabbed my arm, attempting to drag me away. "I don't care where you went, but you are going back with Aaron right now!"

"Stop making a scene!"

I forcefully jerked my arm out of her grip. Enraged, she lunged to grab me again, prompting me to scream, "Mom! You were beaten by Dad too! Does the fact that you endured it mean I have to suffer the exact same fate?!"

I had obeyed my mother my entire life. I had once believed she was the person who loved me most in this world, convinced that she endured my father's abuse out of love for me, and that even amidst violence she was trying her best to shield me. But now, looking at her face distorted with fury, I suddenly found myself questioning whether she truly loved me, or if she was merely using the guise of affection to shackle me for a lifetime. I stepped back, staring directly into her eyes.

"I am not you."

"I will never walk the path you walked, nor will I endure the agony you bore."

Every single word rang out clear and resolute:

"I will never allow my child to repeat my life, enduring the kind of childhood I had."

"And even less will I let her become a replica of you."

My mother completely unraveled, lunging forward to grab me. But before her hands could touch me, the sisters from the support group rushed forward, forming a protective barrier around me. They stood before my mother and Aaron, declaring firmly, "Loan is a free woman; she is nobody's property."

These women, bearing not a single drop of blood relation to me, transformed into the sturdiest wall protecting my safety. I could not find the words to describe that overwhelming emotion; I only felt a sharp sting in the bridge of my nose as tears threatened to spill over. Before Aaron could erupt in rage, I spoke up.

"Aaron, I am divorcing you, no matter what!"

"If you don't want to ruin your reputation completely," knowing full well that his career was what he valued above all else, I threatened, "then obediently sign the papers and grant me a peaceful divorce!"