Chapter 5 — A Marriage Where Love Was Buried

She revealed her prosthetic leg to the camera.

Sister Tran did not despise my disability; instead, she welcomed me as an office worker in her company. She is my savior, not a murderer!

If she is a murderer, then what on earth were those men who beat us black and blue?

One woman after another stepped forward, each standing tall to speak her own truth. Every hidden reality was dragged out into the light, narrative by narrative, detail by detail. The livestream viewership surged, breaking past tens of millions. Following their testimonies, I presented the official medical evaluation detailing my torn postpartum surgical wounds, alongside comprehensive medical reports documenting the brutal beatings inflicted upon me by Phuong Gia Hang. I publicly exposed his rampant infidelity during my strict postpartum confinement, as well as his absurd demand that we share two wives under one roof. I laid bare how my own mother, desperate to mold me into a carbon copy of herself, ruthlessly forced me to remain in a marriage of torment, even resorting to physical blows and public humiliation simply because I refused to replicate her miserable existence. Amidst tens of thousands of souls scarred by cruelty, my mother had unknowingly become a mirror image of the very abusers we fought against. Sitting before the lens, I found the courage for the very first time to expose the jagged scar of my old surgical incision to the world.

I used to think this scar was hideous.

It had been torn open and crudely stitched back together, growing only uglier with time.

But now...

At these words, tears slipped from my eyes.

It is the mark of my life, a medal I wear upon my flesh.

I love my body, not merely for its moments of perfection, but all the more for its profound imperfections.

It was this very body that forced me to grow, that dragged me out of my dreamy ivory tower and thrust me into the harsh reality of the real world—a world crawling with beasts draped in human skin.

I hoisted my divorce certificate high into the air.

I dare not even allow myself to remember the paralyzing terror of the day Sister Tran risked everything to rescue me.

Back then, I cradled my child and trembled so violently I could barely stand.

I was utterly terrified that Phuong Gia Hang would hunt me down and drag me back, plunging me into a darkness where I would never see the light again.

For he had warned me, more than once, that should I ever dare to utter the word divorce...

He would sever my legs, ensuring I could never escape the confines of that living tomb.

I was never truly his wife.

I wept as I spoke the words aloud:

I was his proudest creation, his prized plaything.

And playthings possess no souls!

Yet I had to speak out.

I had to be the voice for millions of women who had walked the path I once trod, so that my daughter will never have to retrace my footsteps.

So that she might grow into a truly independent and free woman.

Sister Tran sat steadily before the camera.

I once demanded a divorce, but my husband refused to grant it.

He bound me inside a desolate hay shed, locking my hands and feet in heavy iron chains, denying me even the basic sustenance of food.

He treated me no better than a beast of burden.

Worse still, he invited the villagers to come and gawk at my captivity, charging them a fee for the spectacle.

It was not as though I never fought back.

Yet every act of resistance only served to heighten his cruel excitement.

I watched him feed his dogs, only to turn his gaze upon me as if I were nothing more than rotting garbage.

My mind snapped.

And I killed him.

Yet when he subjected me to relentless beatings and unspeakable torture, society deemed it no crime.

As for me, simply because I resisted and inadvertently took his life, I was condemned to the shadow of the death penalty.

Yet I harbor no regrets!

Sister Tran declared, I have never regretted it! If I had to live it all over again, I would kill him just the same! The livestream audience instantly shattered the one-hundred-million mark. An overwhelming wave of women raised their voices, demanding the protection of women and raising vital awareness for physical and mental well-being. Countless individuals who had once been relentlessly cyberbullied by internet trolls now turned the tide, exposing the naked truth. They collectively unmasked Phuong Gia Hang and his wretched accomplices, ultimately getting their streaming channels permanently banned. Crowds even marched directly to the headquarters of Phuong Gia Hang’s company to demand accountability, stripping him of his livelihood and reducing him to a pariah spat upon in the streets. Phuong Gia Hang was thoroughly and permanently ostracized by society. I watched all of this unfold, tears streaming endlessly down my face, knowing full well that out there in the vast world, countless souls like mine were still enduring domestic violence day in and day out, yet fighting on with unbreakable resilience. Together, Sister Tran and I transformed our grassroots efforts into a formal non-profit organization, broadening our rescue operations and extending a lifeline to countless more women in peril. Our vital work continues to this day, and I firmly believe that brighter horizons lie ahead. On that particular afternoon, Sister Tran and I were just returning from a long-distance business trip when a shadowy figure suddenly lunged toward me from the blind spot of the pavement. With lightning-fast reflexes, Sister Tran shoved me aside. Before the assailant could lay a finger on me, a heavy freight truck roared down the asphalt, unable to brake in time... crashing directly into him and flinging his body violently into the air. I heard a sickening thud, accompanied by the cold, metallic gleam of a blade flashing across my vision. As my eyes focused and made sense of the chaos... I recognized the face. It was Phuong Gia Hang. He had come armed with a knife, intent on taking my life, consumed by a hatred that burned down to his very bones. And in the blink of an eye... he was crushed beneath the wheels of the truck, perishing on the spot. I stared at his lifeless form sprawled in a pool of blood. Not a single ripple of emotion stirred within me. I felt not even an ounce of pity. In the days that followed, my life gradually settled into a hard-won peace. Sister Tran and I continue to nurture our charitable organization, rescuing and safeguarding an ever-growing number of vulnerable women. Our journey stretches endlessly onward, and I believe, with all my heart, that we will only grow stronger with each passing day.