Chapter 8 — After Forgetting Your Husband

I didn't bother opening it and forwarded it to Tong Chieu. Tong Chieu texted back: *Just keep it, it's all evidence.* I thought I could calmly deal with it. By the third day, PR articles from the Tham Duat Hanh company's communications department appeared on local forums. The title was very sinister: *"Famous businessman was threatened with divorce by his wife, the bride's family suspected of psychological instability, took her young child away and was banned from visiting."* The post did not clearly write my name, but there were blurred photos attached: the hospital, the old dormitory, the back of the child. In the comments section, some people cursed me for asking for money from my children, some said that women with memory loss are all pretending, and some complained that men with money are really unlucky. I stared at the screen, my fingertips numb. Tue Tue was stacking Legos outside the living room. He heard my breathing was not right and ran over to ask: "Mom, what's wrong?" I placed the phone face down on the table: "It's okay." The little girl looked at me, her dark eyes fluttering: "Mom, you lied to me again." I sat down and hugged my child. Her tiny hand patted my back: "Mom, you can tell me, I'm not afraid." My nose is stinging. The doorbell rang again. This time standing outside the door was Tham Duat Hanh. I'm not open. He stood outside and said: "Diep Tri Chi, let me see Tue Tue. I'm his father." Hearing his voice, Tue Tue's body immediately stiffened. I walked to the door: "The lawyer will arrange a visit, not now."

“Are you planning to stay in love until the end?”

"You released the photo first."

There was silence outside for a few seconds.

“Not me.”

I smirked: "Then it's the person next to you." Tham Duat Hanh lowered his voice: "I will handle it."

“No need, no matter how dirty the water you splash, I will clean it just the same.”

He said: "Diep Tri Chi, you weren't this tough before." I looked through the wooden plank and seemed to be able to imagine him frowning.

"Probably because I was trampled on for too long before, my bones haven't straightened yet."

There was no more noise outside. Tue Tue suddenly pulled my shirt: "Mom, I have this." The girl ran into the bedroom, rummaged through a small compartment of her backpack and found an old phone.

“This was my mother's previous spare phone. She said that if dad and grandmother bullied me, I would tell you to keep it safe.”

I took it, the screen was broken at one corner but the power was still on. The password is still Tue Tue's birthday. In photo albums, in audio files, in folders, are the evidence that I in the past have accumulated little by little. Camera video of Tham Duat Hanh locking the door and locking me outside. The recording of my mother-in-law cursing me for not being able to give birth to a son will be replaced sooner or later. The photo Ha Tuyen sent at midnight, Tham Duat Hanh falling asleep on her sofa, accompanied by the words: *Miss Tri Chi, don't misunderstand, he is so tired, I can't bear to wake him up.* And also a video. That day, the rain was very heavy. I held Tue Tue, who had a high fever, and stood in the basement garage, my phone on speaker. I said: "Tham Duat Hanh, Tue Tue has a fever of thirty-nine degrees eight, I can't carry the baby alone, can you come home?" On the other end of the line, Ha Tuyen's voice rang out clearly.

“Duat Hanh, my stomach hurts.”

And then came Tham Duat Hanh's voice: "Take the car to the hospital yourself, don't come looking for me no matter what." In the video, I don't curse, don't cry. I just bowed my head and hugged Tue Tue tightly in my arms, then turned around and rushed out into the rain. The moment the screen went black, my hands were shaking so much that I could barely hold the phone. Tue Tue stood next to me, biting her bleeding lip. I reached out and pried my child's teeth out: "Don't bite me." The little girl cried and asked, “Mom, can we win?” I held the phone tightly.

“Win.”