Chapter 7 — After Seeing Through It, I No Longer Love You

"If you get tangled, slowly fix it. But remember one thing, no matter what you choose in the end, you have to protect yourself first. The money is yours, the house is also yours, don't bet on yourself."

That night, I stayed in that rough house for a long time. Han Tinh was next to me, talking to me intermittently. Most of the time I talked, recounting little by little about the past three years of me and Tham Tu Ngang. She listened quietly, occasionally interjecting a few sentences. Until I ran out of energy, leaning against the wall, my eyes empty.

“Tinh Tinh,” I suddenly spoke up, “I… kinda want to agree with them.”

Han Tinh turned around: "What's wrong with you?"

“Nothing happened to me.” I pulled the corners of my lips into a smile that was even more ugly than crying, "It's just... I'm so tired. I don't want to argue anymore, I don't want to drag it out anymore. It's just half the house... give it away, who knows, maybe after giving it, everything will go back to the way it was before..."

“There's no going back.” Han Tinh interrupted, her voice firm, "Ninh Ninh, there are things that once torn apart, cannot be patched back. Today you take one step back, tomorrow they will ask you to take a second, third step... until you have nothing left."

I was silent. I know she's right. But I'm really tired. In the following days, Tham Tu Ngang still did not return and did not contact him. On the contrary, his mother called me twice, each time her tone was more "polite", but her words became more and more urgent. I did as Han Tinh said, saying I had to discuss it with my father, temporarily delaying it. But I also know that this cannot last forever. Friday night, I returned to the apartment I shared with Tham Tu Ngang. The room was cold, his belongings were still there, but it felt empty like no one was alive. After showering, I lay on the bed, opened my eyes and looked into the darkness. It was like two voices were fighting in my head. A voice advised me to stop adding the name, after adding it, things would be quiet, and the relationship could be saved. The other voice stopped him again, he couldn't say anything, that was the limit, once he gave in there would be no stopping. Just when I was tossing and turning to the point where I was almost persuaded by the first voice, intending to find my dad to talk more about his name tomorrow— The phone suddenly vibrated. It's Tham Tu Ngang's phone. I have two computers, one shared, one private. The day he returned from a business trip, he hurriedly left, leaving his old personal phone at home. Over the past few days, it occasionally has notifications, but I have never touched it. I respect your personal space. Also afraid of seeing things I don't want to see. This time, the phone vibrated and the screen lit up. WeChat notifications appear directly on the lock screen. The sender's name made my heart ache. The content is only one short line.

"Son, is he ready yet? You should try a little more, I'm sure you'll be able to do it..."

I looked at that line, felt the blood rushing to my head, then drained again. The black phone lay there, like a Pandora's box. I know, I shouldn't open it. Once opened, there are things that cannot come back again. The sentence "is it okay yet" is like a thorn deep in the heart. My hands trembled as I picked up the cold phone. The screen lit up at my touch, asking for a password. I stopped. I almost know Tu Ngang's password. On this old phone, the lock screen combines two people's birthdays together. I used to laugh at him, he was so rustic, he hugged me heart, saying that so I won't forget. Fingertips are cold to the point of numbness. I pressed that familiar number. The screen opens. The WeChat icon and unread messages from “Mom” are clearly visible. I clicked. Finger touches down, interface switches. I saw a familiar profile photo, Ms. Ngo Que Lan, taken in front of a flower bed in the apartment complex, smiling gently. But looking back now... it just feels fake and dazzling. The chat frame stops at the exact sentence that just appeared on the lock screen.

"Son, is he ready yet? You should try a little more, I'm sure you'll be able to do it..."

My finger unconsciously pulled up. I want to see what they said before. There were so many messages, I scrolled through it a few times before seeing the time stamp a few days ago—the night Tu Ngang knocked on the door and left to go home.