Chapter 1 — From the day I reported losing my card, I started a new life

My mother-in-law took advantage of the time I wasn't at home and found a bank card containing 8.4 million yuan (≈ 29.4 billion VND) of my savings. She said she would keep it for me, to avoid me spending money carelessly. I just laughed at that time. That's the money I saved up through ten years of struggle, so why would I let her keep it? I didn't say anything, turned around and went straight to the bank to report my card lost. The next afternoon, my phone vibrated non-stop. 99 missed calls, all from mother-in-law. Sau nay toi moi biet, ba ta dan theo em chong den phong ban hang cua mot khu chung cu cao cap, chuan bi mua nha thanh toan mot lan. When it was time to swipe the card, the card was rejected. The sales staff all stood and looked at her like they were laughing. She frantically called me, but I didn't pick up any calls. My name is Hua An Nhien. Ten years of marriage, I became the family's breadwinner and also became an ATM in their eyes. Today, that ATM machine broke down. The cause starts with a bank card. I dragged my tired body home. The living room is empty. The door to the room of her mother-in-law - Luu Ngoc Mai - was ajar. Inside, there was the sound of her and my husband - Chu Minh Hien - talking in low voices.

“Mom, don't casually touch An Nhien's things.”

“What is arbitrary?”

“Can I take a look at my daughter-in-law's estate?”

“What kind of inheritance does he have? Isn't it all the money Minh Hien earned?”

I stood outside the door, listening to that conversation, my heart cold as ice. I paid the deposit for this house. I shoulder the loan every month. Chu Minh Hien's salary is enough for him to smoke and drink on his own. I didn't step in. I returned to my bedroom. As soon as I pushed the door open, my heart sank. The wardrobe door was wide open. The small safe I hid deep inside was pulled out. The lid was open, the contents were ransacked. The bank card I had saved for ten years, 8.4 million in savings — disappeared. I took a deep breath, forcing down my anger. I walked out the door to my mother-in-law's room.

“What are you looking for in my room?”

Inside immediately fell silent. A moment later, Luu Ngoc Mai opened the door and walked out. In her hand, was clearly my bank card. There is no shame at all. On the contrary, it is full of legitimacy.

“An Nhien, you came back just in time.”

“Mom saved this card for me.”

Chu Minh Hien stood behind, his face unsightly, but he did not dare say a word. She held up her card like a trophy.

"I'm a woman, why do I have so much money?"

“If people cheat or spend carelessly, wouldn't that be the Chu family's loss?”

“Me giu giup con, an toan nhat.”

"In the future, if the family needs money, tell mom, she'll give it back."

She spoke as if the money was hers. As if I don't deserve to have my own property. I looked in the mirror and my face was full of greed. Look at the weak husband next to you. Ten years of marriage, like a joke. I paid the price with my youth, sweat and effort. In return, there is precaution and appropriation. At that moment, I suddenly stopped being angry. When your heart is dead, there's nothing left to be angry about. I even laughed.

“Is that what you mean too?” I looked at my husband.

He avoided my eyes.

“Mom is also good for us… we are all one family.”

“One person?”

I repeated those three words, finding it ironic. It turns out that in their eyes, “one family” means My money is their money. And I'm just an accessory. I got it. I don't argue, I don't question. Just nodded. Then I took my bag and left.

“An Nhien, where are you going?” Chu Minh Hien asked.

“Go out for a moment.”

I replied calmly. Luu Ngoc Mai thought I had given in, the corners of her lips revealed a smug look.

“That's right.”

“If you think it through early, there's no need.”

I didn't look at her, just walked straight to the door to change my shoes. Move slowly, without haste. Every step feels like stepping on the ashes of ten years of marriage. The faces of that "family" were left completely behind. The night wind passed by, cold. But my mind was unusually alert. I took out my phone to check the time. Seven thirty in the evening. The bank has not closed yet. I hailed a taxi.

“Let me go to the nearest bank.”

The driver asked curiously:

“What procedures are you still going to do this late?”

I looked at the light outside the window sliding backwards, and said softly —

“Do something… I should have done it a long time ago.”

My destination is very clear. Report lost card. And also — starting my life again. The taxi stopped in front of the bank. I entered the brightly lit hall. There weren't many people, took a number, lined up - in less than a few minutes it was my turn. The teller is a young girl, with a standard smile as if her shoes were tailored to her needs.

“Hello, what service do you need?”

“I want to report my bank card lost.”

My voice was so calm that even I found it strange. No shaking, not missing a beat.

“Yes, please provide your ID and card number for me.”

“I don't remember the card number.”

“If you have an ID, that's fine.”

I took the papers out of my pocket and handed them over. The girl swiped on the phone, then raised her head to look at me - her eyes briefly showed surprise.

“Miss Hua… are you sure you want to report this card lost?”

"This is my black VIP card. The balance inside..."

She didn't finish her sentence, but her eyes did the talking. A woman dressed simply — and possessing a card with a number that makes people pause for a few seconds.

“I'm sure.”

I nodded, decisively. The girl didn't ask any more questions and started following the procedure.

"After reporting loss, this card will be completely destroyed. The money inside will be frozen for seven days. After seven days, bring your ID to make a new card and transfer the money."

"I get it."

The sound of typing on the keyboard rang out quickly. The printer hummed softly, spitting out a lost confirmation.

“Sign your name here for me.”

I picked up a pen and wrote down two words: Hua An Nhien. The handwriting is clear and strong. It's like signing a divorce agreement. Sign goodbye to the past ten years.

"Done."

I returned the pen.

"Yes, the old card is invalid. Please come back seven days later to get a new card."

I stood up and left the bank. The night was deeper. I wandered the streets, not in a hurry to return. That place... was no longer worthy of being called home. Just an apartment I share with Chu Minh Hien and his family. An apartment where I pay the entire "rent" with my life.