Chapter 3 — CEO Phong, Stop Chasing Her—She Already Has a Marriage Certificate

Three days before her birthday, Nhã Kỳ sat in her old office, trembling hands typing in the search box for flights to Singapore. She had checked Chính Nguyên's schedule dozens of times through the business messages he accidentally left open on the family's shared computer - it wasn't that she was intentionally spying, it was just that one evening, when she needed to print some documents, she saw the hotel confirmation email still open on the screen, and curiosity crept into her heart like an irresistible breeze.

Marina Grand Hotel, thirty-second floor suite, check-in on Tuesday, check-out the following Friday—a time frame that coincided with her birthday, which fell on a Thursday.

She had told herself hundreds of times that this was just a normal business trip, that the fact that he had forgotten her birthday for three consecutive years was not because he did not love her, but simply because his mind was always filled with numbers, meetings, and decisions that affected thousands of employees under him. A man in charge of a large corporation like Chính Nguyên did not have much space left to remember personal days, she understands that, she had learned to accept that.

But this year, she wanted to try something different.

She called Tú Anh before booking the ticket, half as if asking for advice, half as if she wanted someone to confirm that her decision was not crazy.

"Are you planning to fly all the way to Singapore just to surprise your husband on his birthday?" Tú Anh asked again, his voice unable to hide his surprise. "Nhã Kỳ, this is not a birthday surprise for him, this is you creating a birthday surprise for yourself, right?"

"I just think..." Nhã Kỳ hesitated. "If I were there, standing in front of him that day, maybe he would suddenly realize. Every year he forgets because there is nothing to remind him. But if I appeared..."

"And then what? He will suddenly wake up, hug you, and say sorry for being careless all these years?" Tú Anh doesn't mean to be sarcastic, it's just that she understands her friend too well, and understands her tendency to hold hope in the most fragile things. "I'm not stopping you, just... be prepared for both possibilities. Maybe he's really touched, but maybe he's just surprised that you suddenly appeared in the middle of his busy work schedule, and sees it as a nuisance."

Nhã Kỳ was silent. She knew Tú Anh was right, but her heart, the part of her heart that had been used to holding out hope for seven years, still wanted to try once.

She booked a plane ticket for Wednesday night, so she could arrive in Singapore on Thursday morning, on her birthday, earlier than originally planned to suddenly appear at the evening meeting with partners that she knew would definitely take place according to her business schedule. She prepared a small gift box - not a gift for Chính Nguyên, but a gift she bought for herself, a simple silver bracelet engraved with Bảo Nhiên's birthday, a gift she planned to give herself as a small ritual every year, although this year she hoped there would be one more person to congratulate her.

She also prepared a small cake, the kind that can be brought on the plane, carefully packaged in a refrigerated box, with the passion fruit flavor she has loved since she was a student - a flavor she has never dared to order at any of her husband's parties because Mrs. Ngọc Hân does not like the sour taste.

The night before flying, Nhã Kỳ stood in front of the mirror, admiring the emerald green silk dress she chose to wear when she met her husband again — not to seduce, but because it was the color he had only complimented once, five years ago, at a company party. She clearly remembers his short words at that time: "This color suits you." That's all, but she kept that sentence like a treasure, and from then on, every time there was an important occasion, she always tried to wear that color again, hoping he would notice, remember, and say something more.

Ms. Ngọc Hân knew that Nhã Kỳ was planning to fly to Singapore and was not very satisfied. "You're leaving so suddenly, what if it affects Nguyen's work? He's in an important stage, signing a big contract, you should understand him."

"I won't disturb his work, Mom," Nhã Kỳ reassured. "I just want to be with him and Bảo Nhiên on my birthday."

Mrs. Ngọc Hân looked at her daughter-in-law for a moment, her eyes complex and unpredictable. "You're a good wife, Nhã Kỳ. Maybe better than Nguyen deserves. But... well, you can go if you want."

That unfinished sentence made Nhã Kỳ pause a bit, but she didn't have time to ask more because she had already turned and walked away, looking like she was trying to avoid something.

Wednesday night's flight was longer than Nhã Kỳ imagined. Sitting in the economy class cabin (she deliberately did not use the company credit card to pay for the ticket herself with the little personal savings she had saved from monthly family expenses, as a way to confirm that this was her own trip, not related to the name of the general manager's wife), she looked out the small window, the city lights gradually disappeared behind the clouds, and a series of different scenarios appeared in her mind about the upcoming meeting.

She imagined herself knocking on the hotel room door, Chính Nguyên opening the door, stunned for a second and then a rare smile appeared on his lips. She imagined Bảo Nhiên running out and hugging her mother, shouting in surprise. She imagined the three of them sitting together for dinner in a small restaurant on Clarke Quay, the shimmering lights reflecting on the river surface, and for the first time in seven years, she felt the full warmth of a true family.

She opened her phone and looked through old photos of the three of them—it was rare to find a photo of the whole family smiling together. One was from Bảo Nhiên's fifth birthday, when she had insisted that both parents stand next to her for a picture as she blew out the candles. In it, Chính Nguyên was bending down to look at his daughter while Nhã Kỳ stood beside them, looking at father and daughter. The smile on her lips was so bright that even looking back, she could not recognize herself from a few years earlier—a woman who had never doubted her own happiness.

She wondered when that smile became so rare. Perhaps it doesn't disappear in a day, but gradually wears away with each meal eaten alone, each night waiting for no one to come home, each promise shelved because of an unexpected meeting. She was so used to comforting herself with reasonable reasons that she no longer realized when the line between understanding and self-deception had blurred.

The flight attendant walked by, smiled and asked if she needed an extra blanket. Nhã Kỳ shook her head, closed her eyes, trying to take a nap to stay mentally alert for the upcoming meeting. But sleep did not come, instead a series of thoughts kept circulating in her mind like endless weaving shuttles. She thought about when would be the best time to wear that turquoise dress — should she wear it right when she arrived at the hotel, or wait until the evening, when the city lights came on, to create a more complete surprise effect? She thought about how happy Bảo Nhiên would be when she saw her mother appear, maybe she would jump up and hug her leg like every time she picked her child up from school.

She didn't even think about another scenario — a scenario in which she, not her husband, was the one who had to face a surprise, and that surprise was not pleasant at all.

She didn't know that right now, at another hotel not far from Marina Grand, a woman named Diệp Uyển Thi was also standing in front of the mirror, trying on a wine-red evening dress, preparing for her own birthday party - the party she had silently invited Chính Nguyên to two weeks ago, with a short message: "This year is the first year after my father passed away. I don't want to celebrate my birthday alone. Can you come?"

And Chính Nguyên, a man who considers himself rational and disciplined in every decision, nodded in agreement without even thinking about the fact that day was also his wife's birthday - because, over the past seven years, that birthday has become one of countless small data washed away between thousands of deadlines and meetings in his mind, not because he does not love his wife, but because he has never really learned how to preserve the small but most important things in a meeting. marriage.

The plane landed in Singapore at five o'clock in the morning. Nhã Kỳ walked out of Changi Airport in the gentle morning sunlight, filled with hope, carrying a small suitcase and a carefully wrapped box of passion fruit cake, completely unaware that this surprise trip would become the most painful turning point in her life — not because it broke any ugly secrets, but because it exposed a truth she had deliberately hidden from view for seven years: that her patience, no matter how sincere, was not strong enough to weigh it down. equal to a heart that has never really learned how to love the right person at the right time.