Chapter 6 — After Forgetting Your Husband

*It turned out that it wasn't that I never thought about leaving, but that they pushed me back time and time again.* Arriving at Ngo Dong Street, the hallway light bulbs of the old dormitory were broken, the wall paint was peeling, and the air smelled of dust and mold. I carried my suitcase upstairs, Tue Tue used her phone's flashlight to light the way. The lock was very old. I touched the door frame according to the notes and found a key. The moment I opened the door, dust rushed into my face. Tue Tue sneezed. The house is not big, two bedrooms and a living room, the furniture is covered with white cloth, and on the window sill is a pot of dead plants. I walked into the master bedroom, lifted up the paneling at the bottom of the nightstand, and felt a small safe. The password is my mother's death anniversary. The safe door opened, inside were red books, bank cards, a copy of the marriage certificate, and an unsigned divorce agreement. On the agreement, my name was already printed. Property division, child custody, visitation schedules, all are clearly written. The last page contains a note. The handwriting is very familiar, probably written by me. *If one day you can't bear it again, look at Tue Tue.* I held the paper, my hands shaking. Tue Tue stood at the door, not daring to enter. I turned around and reached out towards my child. The little girl ran over and jumped into my arms. I hugged her tightly, the corners of my eyes were hot, but I didn't let the tears fall.

“Tu Tue, we won't go back there anymore.”

She buried her head in my chest and nodded, her voice mumbling:

“Yes.”

【Chapter 5】 Cleaning the house on Ngo Dong Street took two whole days. Dust fell from the top of the cabinet, making me choke and cough, itching my throat. Tue Tue wore a tiny mask and held a rag to wipe her desk. She wiped very carefully, not missing every leg of the table. I said: "If you're tired, rest for a while." The girl shook her head: "I have to help mom." The more she understood, the more sorry I felt. A six-year-old child should have burst into tears when he spilled milk, should have complained that sweeping the floor was boring, should have eloquently complained that he was tired. But she was like a miniature adult, always looking at my face. That afternoon I cooked noodles, the edges of the fried egg were burned, and the vegetables were a bit old. Tue Tue took a big bite, her eyes narrowed: "So delicious." I looked at the broth stuck to my child's mouth and asked: "Was your cooking good before?" The little girl nodded: "It's very delicious. If Dad doesn't eat it, he won't be happy." I smiled slightly, but her words left tiny cuts in my heart. In the afternoon, the lawyer arrived. Her name is Tong Chieu, my college classmate, and also the "life-saving straw" saved in my phone book. As soon as she walked in and saw the gauze on my forehead, her eyes turned red.

“Diep Tri Chi, you finally called me.”

I was stunned: "Have I ever looked for you before?" Tong Chieu put down his bag, squatted in front of me, lowered his voice: "Half a year ago you came to me for divorce advice. The deal was that I prepared it for you. Then you told me to wait a little longer, you told Tue Tue to cry and ask him if dad didn't need her anymore." Tue Tue stood in front of the bedroom door, holding a teddy bear, her face pale. I waved my hand: “Come here.” The girl slowly walked forward. I hugged her and sat on my lap: "This is not your fault." The girl bowed her head: "I didn't know at that time." Seeing that scene, Tong Chieu's eyes widened became even redder, but she quickly controlled her emotions and opened the file.

"Over the years, Tham Duat Hanh has had no clear evidence of adultery, but has had close interactions with Ha Tuyen, has many bank transfer bills, medical records with him, and cameras in the hotel lobby. Cold violence and mental abuse are difficult to judge directly, but the child's wishes, his state before the accident, and recordings at home can all be used to support the investigation.