Chapter 8 — Electricity Bill 380 Numbers, Revealing a Marriage

I spoke up, my voice cold and calm.

“In three years, I transferred 180,000 yuan to her, plus 200,000 yuan of ‘house repair money’, for a total of 380,000 yuan.”

I looked straight at him.

“Of that amount, there was a large portion—she transferred it to her boyfriend.”

“That BMW 3 Series, it costs more than three hundred thousand, where does a freelance photographer get the money?”

I glanced at Lam Duyet.

“You know it yourself.”

Tran Vi looked at her. His face changes continuously. Angry, confused, humiliated. Exactly like me the first day I saw the entry and exit log. The difference is— I choose to be quiet and sort things out. And he—

“You lied to me?!”

He roared.

"Three years! I gave you three hundred and eighty thousand! You took it to raise another guy?!"

Lam Duyet took a step back.

“It's not like that—”

“So what?!”

“Those… are investments—”

"Invest? Invest in your boyfriend to buy a car?!"

I stood next to it. Don't interfere. Looking at the two of them arguing as if this world never existed for me. That moment—when Tran Vi realized he was just a deceiver—I thought I would feel gloating. But no. I just feel tired. It's been three years. Really tired. I spoke up. The two immediately stopped.

“The divorce petition is here.”

I pointed to the stack of papers on the table.

"The house has been transferred. You can't touch it."

"The car is in my name. You can't touch it either."

"The money is in my account. You can't even touch it."

“Look for yourself, what do you have left?”

Tran Vi stood still. The mouth opened, but nothing could be said. Then he understood. Understand slowly, but cruelly. He has nothing. The house is not his. The car is not his. The money is not his. Even the money he gave to Lam Duyet—did not belong to him. Four years of marriage. The only thing he kept— was his salary of eight thousand per month. And a woman tricked him for three years.

“Sign or not?”

I looked at him.

"If you don't sign, I will sue. The proof is here, the wrong person is you."

“My lawyer said, go to court—you might not even be able to keep your three thousand living expenses.”

The mother-in-law sat quietly in a corner. Say no more. Perhaps she finally understood—the daughter-in-law she always criticized—was the only person supporting her son's life. And her son—gave someone else's 5,000,000 yuan house to someone else to live in. He used another person's 200,000 yuan to support an extramarital relationship. I gave the pen to Tran Vi. He looked at me. Complicated eyes. Anger, unwillingness, regret, fear. But there is nothing— worth softening my heart.

“You will regret it.”

he said. I smiled softly.

“The one who regrets it—not me.”

The divorce procedure took place very quickly. Chu Nam accompanied me from start to finish. Tran Vi finally signed. It's impossible not to sign, the evidence is too clear, he is the wrong side, going to court will only make it worse. The content of the agreement is very simple. The property someone keeps. No joint debt. There are no children problems. Everything is neat and clear. Stepping out of the civil affairs department, the sky was strangely blue. Standing on the steps looking at the blue divorce book in my hand, I felt like a part of my life had just ended. It's over. Chu Nam stood next to him, tilted his head and asked.

“How does it feel?”

I thought for a moment, then answered. Chu Nam laughed.

“Let's go, let's have a meal.”

While eating, Chu Nam told some back stories.

“Tran Vi's mother called me.”

“Tell me to return the house, saying it is the property of both families.”

I took a piece of food, my voice very calm.

“What do you answer?”

"I said the house is personal property before marriage, ownership is clear, there is no return, if you do not agree, just follow the legal path."

“She cursed a few words and then hung up.”

I nodded.

“If you curse, just curse.”

“Anyway… it's no longer relevant.”

A week later, I moved out of the old house. Forty square meters. That one and a half meter bed has witnessed countless sleepless nights. The small kitchen, only big enough for one person to stand, has reheated countless cold meals. The bathroom is cramped, a place to wash away fatigue after long days. I thought I was waiting for a home. Waiting for a place called "Cam Vien 1402". But that place... someone else lived. The day I moved out, I didn't look back. Tran Vi's things were tidied up, placed in front of the door, and only sent a message.

“The items are at the door, the key is with the security guard.”

Messages returned very quickly.

“To Van, you are truly too cruel.”