Chapter 2 — After the Marriage Aborted, I Became Something You Couldn't Reach

Just discovered that everything inside is so tight that it cannot be closed anymore. It was the second month after the engagement. I mentioned adding my name to the red book. The tone is very calm. After the meal, Phuong Minh Vien was sitting on the sofa watching football, Phuong's mother was next to her, biting melon seeds.

"Minh Vien, I want to discuss a little. After getting married, can I add my name to the house certificate? I will pay the loan together."

Phuong Minh Vien's eyes still did not leave the TV screen. Phuong's mother's action of biting melon seeds paused for a moment, then continued as if nothing had happened.

“Nhuoc Van.” She laughed. "My parents saved more than half their lives to buy this house. The deposit is 600,000 yuan, the loan is being paid by Minh Vien."

"The extra name thing... to put it bluntly, it's just a formality. But these formalities don't sound good when spread out. It's like our two families don't trust each other."

She bit another melon seed.

"Besides, don't you have a small apartment yourself? That's your real support."

"Women, having something that belongs to you in your hands is the most reassuring thing."

Finally, Phuong Minh Vien spoke up, but his eyes were still glued to the TV:

"Your mother is right. Just keep your money, don't think too much."

At that moment, I watched the cheers after the goal on TV. Phuong's mother bit the melon seeds as usual. Phuong Minh Vien crossed his legs and clapped his hands. And I sit in this living room... Like a vase placed in the right position. No personal opinion. The next day, Phuong's mother sent a message to the family group, her tone light:

"Nhuoc Van, I see a beautiful custom wedding candy box design. Please help me contact it. I'm not the designer, it's just convenient."

In the group were Phuong Minh Vien, Phuong Minh Nguyet and Phuong's father. No one asked me if I agreed or not. No one said a word of thanks. I replied: Phuong Minh Nguyet immediately sent a thumbs up icon, adding one more sentence:

“Sister-in-law is really good.”

Good. Easy to talk to. Those words were like a sticker superimposed on me. The thicker the paste, the thicker it is. It gets heavier and heavier. Lam Tri Du realized I wasn't feeling well so he asked me out to eat. I said okay, it's normal. Every house is not like that. She looked at me for a long time but in the end she didn't say anything more. And now, she stood in the middle of my living room, clutching the phone so tightly that her knuckles turned white, almost crying.

"Tham Nhuoc Van, what exactly are you reacting like? Do you still not understand how serious the matter is?"

"Phuong Minh Vien registered his marriage! With another woman!"

"Your wedding is only a month away! His whole family knows!"

"I know."

"I know? That's all?"

I went back to the dressing table, took off the pearl necklace from my neck, and put it back in the box.

“So what are you going to do?”

I closed the lid of the box.

“I will take leave tomorrow.”

“Please take leave?”

Lam Tri Du almost jumped up.

“You have to go to Phuong's house and turn that house upside down!”

I looked at the woman in the mirror. Twenty-seven years old. The skin is still fine, not much fat. The eye circles are a bit dark, probably because I haven't slept well recently. The face in the mirror was so calm that even I felt strange.

"No need."

"Why?!"

“Because no worth."

The next day at noon, Phuong's mother called.

“Nhuoc Van, let's try the cake tomorrow afternoon. Three o'clock, still the same French bakery as before. Come a little early to help me reserve a spot."

Her tone was still the same as usual. Not the least bit guilty. Not the least bit unusual. Hearing her voice, I suddenly felt funny. This woman... Eight days ago, she just took her son to register his marriage with another woman. If you turn around, you can still calmly call me to try the wedding cake. Is thinking that I will never know. Or do you think that even if I knew, I wouldn't dare do anything?

“Yes aunty, three o'clock.”

“Ah yes, remember to dress nicely. That day, I even made an appointment with the wedding company to come, leaving a good impression on people."

“I know.”

After hanging up the phone, I sat on the edge of the bed, looking at the photo Lam Tri Du sent on the phone screen. Phuong Minh Vien hugged Chu Vy Vy. Two eye-catching red marriage certificates. I met Chu Vy Vy once. It was at the Phuong family's company year-end party last year. She was brought here by a partner of Phuong Minh Vien, who works as a real estate broker. That day, she wore a tight-fitting dress and sat and talked with Phuong Minh Vien for a long time. And at that time I was sitting right next to him. After the party, Phuong's mother even praised her:

“That Tieu Chu girl looks really smart and has a sweet tongue.”

I don't care. Now that I think about it... Maybe that meal that day was the starting point. Lam Tri Du sent me more than ten WeChat messages in a row. Every news story is filled with capital letters because of anger. I don't answer. I open another app. An application that in front of Phuong Minh Vien, I almost never opened. Several unread messages appeared on the screen.

"Miss Tham, I have sent you the plan for the exhibition in Hangzhou next month. Please see if the timing is okay."

"Ms. Nhuoc Van, the customer of the villa project last week wanted to increase the budget for soft furnishings. I have written the data in the file, please confirm it for me."

Studio “Te Tri” is something I started working on in my second year after graduating from university. Initially, we only accepted a few small orders introduced by friends, helping people coordinate furniture and choose curtains. Then gradually develop. Have fixed customers. There are online brands. Has its own team of collaborative designers. Three years ago I registered to establish a company. Last year's net profit… Seven times my official salary. Phuong Minh Vien doesn't know. Phuong's mother doesn't know. Even my parents just think I "occasionally take on extra work". It's not that I intentionally hid it. No one ever really asked. What Phuong's mother cares about is whether I know how to cook. What Phuong Minh Vien cares about is whether I have time to receive guests with him on the weekend. What my parents care about is whether or not I will be bullied after getting married. I have mentioned the story of "Te Tri" several times. But no one ever took it seriously. Phuong Minh Vien once said:

“Your little hobby is nice, but don't make yourself too tired.”

Small hobby. I scrolled to the studio's account balance page and took a look. Then exit, put the phone down. Wednesday afternoon, I went to that bakery. Phuong's mother sat next to the window, opposite was a female planner from a wedding company, a middle-aged woman with curly hair. When I arrived, Phuong's mother was smiling large:

"We in the Phuong family don't like fancy things, but dignity must be enough. The guests who come are all famous people..."

As soon as she saw me, she immediately waved her hand:

"Nhuoc Van is here, sit down. This is Ms. Vuong, director of the wedding company."

“Hello Miss Tham.”