Chapter 3 — He Only Woke Up After the Divorce

The body is often more honest than the mind, isn't it? I straightened my posture and tapped firmly on the roof of the car.

"Go tell your General Manager Bui that I, Ky Duong, have lived for twenty-six years, and I lived just fine before he ever came into the picture. Tell him to stop wasting his energy; if he needs medication, he should take it, and if he needs physical therapy, he should go to his appointments."

Chau An nodded repeatedly, like a pestle pounding garlic. I turned on my heel and walked away. After twenty paces, I glanced back. The car was still there.

Forget it. I could not be bothered. If he wanted to trail me, he could. I was free, after all. That afternoon, the company took on a new client. I work as an interior designer, and this latest project involved the renovation of a private villa. The budget was generous, and the client was easy to communicate with. The representative handling the project was a man. He was gentle, polite, and spoke in a moderate, measured tone; when he smiled, two small canine teeth were visible. His name was Tham Tu.

"Ms. Ky, these are the documents outlining my requirements. Please take a look and let me know if there are any issues."

He handed me the tablet, his fingertips carefully avoiding contact with my hand. I silently gave him an extra point for that. He was nothing like someone else I knew, who would deliberately brush against my hand whenever he handed me something, only to act entirely innocent afterward.

"Regarding the style, I am leaning toward a minimalist Japanese aesthetic with natural wood, but I do not want it to feel too sterile or cold."

Tham Tu explained: "It would be best to incorporate a bit of the warmth of daily life."

"I understand," I replied, nodding. "Warmth, but with restraint."

He smiled. "Exactly. That is the feeling I am looking for."

We spoke for forty minutes with high efficiency, not a single word wasted. As I walked him to the door, he turned back and asked, "Would you be available to visit the site next Wednesday? I can drive over to pick you up."

"I can get there myself; you can just send me the address."

"Very well."

He did not insist and left with refreshing decisiveness. I stood by the door, watching his retreating figure. He carried himself with a tall, composed air, walking away with a steady gait—no looking back, no lingering. Perfect. This was exactly how a normal man should behave. When I returned to my office, my mood was excellent; I hummed to myself while sketching out the floor plans. Then, my phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number.

"Who is that man?"

No signature. No form of address. No punctuation. But I knew exactly who it was at a single glance. Only Bui Dien could write an interrogation with such an entitled tone. I replied with four words: "None of your business."

After sending it, I felt a sense of unease. Wait a moment. He had lost his memory; he did not remember me. So, by what right did he feel entitled to monitor who I met? How did he even know Tham Tu had come to my office? I pulled back the curtains and looked down at the street. That black car was parked quietly beneath the shade of the trees. Chau An sat in the driver’s seat, head bowed, likely reporting to his General Manager. I yanked the curtains shut and took a deep breath. Do not be angry. Do not be angry. We are divorced. If he wants to play stalker, he can; it has nothing to do with me anymore. By the seventh day after our divorce, things began to spiral. How should I put it… someone who had lost his memory like Bui Dien was appearing with even higher frequency than when he had his full recollection. On Monday, I went to the supermarket, and he was there, standing in the fresh seafood section, pretending to inspect salmon. On Tuesday, I went to the gym, and he spent forty minutes on the treadmill right next to mine, his eyes constantly darting toward me. On Wednesday, Tham Tu and I went to inspect the villa. As we reached the gate, a black Maybach was parked on the street across from us. Tham Tu noticed it too.

"That car… it has been there the whole time."

I replied casually, "Don't pay it any mind. It might just be a patrol vehicle for the management of this neighborhood."

Tham Tu did not press the matter further. I brought my measuring tools into the villa, measuring the dimensions while discussing the layout with him.

"This wall can be torn down to create an open kitchen."

"That sounds good. I actually cook quite a bit."

"You know how to cook?" I asked, feeling a hint of surprise.