Chapter 20 — Eighteen People, One Meal, One Divorce

“Are you okay?”

“It's okay, this will happen sooner or later.”

I tightened my grip on the phone, my voice calmer than I thought.

“You made a report before, now you are the victim, not the participant.”

"The police have eliminated you from the list of main suspects, and Trieu Khai... must pay the price."

"I know."

In my heart, I'm not really happy, nor soft-hearted, just a feeling... that finally falls. That night I had a dream. An old house caught fire, the fire dyed the sky red, a group of people stood outside crying and cursing. Trieu Khai stood in the sea of fire, holding papers saying "high profit" and "guaranteed victory". Someone asked me if I wanted to save him, I shook my head: "I can't save him, he won't come out." As soon as it was dawn, I woke up, pulled the curtains, and sunlight poured in. It shines on the stack of lesson plans on the table, so bright it's blinding. At the corner of the table is a photo I took with the new graduates. At that time, I laughed very immaturely, but with great effort. I suddenly wanted to return to the podium. Not just for money, but because I want to prove a point. I can rely on myself and live as a complete person. After the divorce, I took a short leave of absence. The school was initially worried about the image of a "divorced teacher". But the parents were unexpectedly calm. There was a quiet parent who stayed behind to talk to me privately after the meeting.

"I don't feel comfortable asking about personal matters, but looking at the way you teach my child, I know you are a responsible person, don't pay too much attention to what others say."

That day when I got home, I told my mother. She picked vegetables and spoke.

"See? Not everyone is like their family."

"In the future, don't take people's mouths as a big deal. They can say whatever they want, as long as you live without shame."

That summer, I signed up for an advanced class in finance and law. The class was full of women around thirty or forty years old. Some people are housewives, some are small traders. During break time, everyone told stories about being tricked by "acquaintances". Some people are lured by their cousins to buy tens of thousands of functional foods. Some people were dragged by close friends to work as agents and lost all their capital. Some people even have their husband mortgage their house without knowing it. When it's my turn, I just keep it simple.

“My ex-husband took my salary card to invest in an illegal capital raising project.”

“Fortunately, the money was recovered, but the person also left.”

The whole class whispered, someone patted my shoulder.

“You're lucky, at least you're young.”

This time, I no longer see the phrase "young" as just a consolation. It's the truth. At least I have time to re-learn the things I didn't understand. In the fall, I moved to a small house near school. One living room, one bedroom, large windows facing south. I used two months' salary to buy a desk. Then I went to the second-hand market and picked up a rocking chair. In the evening, after grading papers, I sat there listening to the sound of the wind. Sometimes when I think back to the past, my heart is still a bit sour. But more than just a feeling of let down. The divorce story spread to the countryside, not unexpected. Someone said behind my back "the Lam family's daughter is in trouble".

“You're so stubborn that's why this happened.”

“Once divorced, life becomes even more difficult.”

Those words also reached my mother's ears. Before, she could suffer in silence. But this time, someone at the market hinted in front of him.

“It's your daughter's business... you're a woman, you can handle it Just bear with it.”

My mother raised her head and placed the bunch of vegetables on the scale.

“Better than living in a pit of fire.”

"If days are difficult, you can fix them. If you lose your life, you can't fix it."

The other person was speechless, could only smile wryly and leave. That night, my mother told me, adding one more sentence.

"When I was young, my mother was afraid of losing face, so she swallowed everything."

“Now that I think about it, what is the point of living a life, my life is important.”

Winter came, I stood on the podium. Look at the children raising their hands and competing to answer. Outside the window, the wind blew tree branches against each other. But it was warm in the classroom. There is a little girl writing in the essay.

“In the future, I want to be like Ms. Lam, not afraid of what others will say, just do what I think is right.”

I looked at that text and my heart suddenly warmed up. Late at night, returning to the motel room, the light made the small room bright. On the table is a lesson plan, and on the window sill are two newly purchased succulent pots. The phone lit up, it was mom sending a photo. In the photo is the scene of the whole family wrapping cakes. The filling bowl, the rolling pin, each small lump of dough lined up. My father stood next to me, handing me the peel, my mother bowed her head and kneaded the dough. Below the photo is a line of text.

“If you have free time, come back and eat cake.”

I held the phone, feeling strangely quiet. The house I lived in for two years, red-faced arguments in the hallway. The contract states "all money was used for family expenses". And the necklace I refused. It's all like a play that's come to an end. What remains is not a struggle. Which is a clear boundary. I know, I stepped out of that fire pit. The road ahead may not be smooth. The difficult days won't go away anytime soon. But I just need to move forward step by step. I will go my own way. Outside the window the wind blew strongly. I raised my glass of water and took a sip. Warm water flows down the throat. It's also warm inside.