Chapter 7 — He Only Woke Up After the Divorce

I am not afraid of you. I simply find you tiresome.

Silence followed.

Was it always this way?

He asked suddenly.

What?

Before… did you find me this tiresome back then as well?

My mouth parted. To be honest, the answer was yes. But it was not merely a matter of being tiresome. It was suffocating, helpless, and at times, heartbreaking. Because I knew he was not a bad person. He simply did not understand that loving someone requires boundaries. He packaged all of his possessiveness and desire for control into the two words, "I love you." He sincerely believed that locking me away was the same as protecting me. But I am a human being, not a bird in a cage.

Bui Dien.

I said:

This is a question you should have asked yourself a long time ago.

Sleep well. Do not call again.

I hung up. Shut down the phone. Unplugged the charger. Tucked the device into the very bottom drawer of the cabinet. Tonight, I did not want to care about anything. This was the twentieth day since our divorce. Bui Dien had truly vanished. After I mentioned the words "personal protection order," that black Maybach no longer appeared within my line of sight. Chau An sent no more messages. Flowers no longer appeared mysteriously at the company reception desk. My phone remained completely silent. The world had become peaceful. I should have been happy. Indeed, for the first three days, I was. But starting on the fourth day, an indescribable feeling began to take root in my heart. It was not longing. Certainly not. It was just that after becoming accustomed to having a shadow constantly trailing behind me, the sudden absence of that shadow left me with a sense of hollow space at my back. It was like suddenly taking off a heavy overcoat worn for three years; my body simply could not adjust to the sudden lightness.

Are you ill?

After hearing my description, Hua Nhung stared at me in disbelief.

Have you developed Stockholm syndrome or something?

No!

I denied it firmly.

I am merely describing an objective physiological reaction.

A physiological reaction is just a fancy way of saying you miss him.

I do not miss him! I just find the silence too overwhelming!

Hua Nhung rolled her eyes. I could not be bothered to pay her any more attention. On Saturday, I went to the villa project site for Tham Tu as usual. The workers were tearing down an old wall on the first floor, kicking up a thick cloud of dust. I put on my safety helmet and checked the blueprints on the second floor. Tham Tu stood beside me, helping to hold the measuring tape.

This load-bearing wall cannot be touched.

I pointed to the blueprint.

I will draft an alternative route around it.

Fine, I will follow your lead.

He stood at a distance that was neither too close nor too far. He carried the faint scent of citrus. His voice was warm, never imposing the slightest pressure.

Miss Ky, shall we have lunch together this afternoon?

That would be lovely.

He smiled. The construction site was quite noisy. As I lowered my head to record the measurements, I did not notice Tham Tu watching me. Nor did I realize that a different kind of emotion had begun to surface in his eyes. Lunch was at a small eatery near the site. Tham Tu ordered light, simple dishes.

Is your stomach not in good condition?

He asked. I was a little startled.

How did you know?

Last time we had coffee, you added a lot of sugar but still frowned. It was just a guess.

Your powers of observation are truly excellent.

In architecture, attention to detail is a fundamental skill.

I laughed. While we ate, Tham Tu shared a few things about himself. He was an architect who had returned from studying abroad and opened his own small firm. He had an older sister with whom he had a very close relationship. He kept a cat. None of his stories were overly dramatic; they were all mundane and warm. Listening to him for a while, I suddenly felt… perhaps this was what life was truly supposed to be like. Not a rope pulled tight at all times. Not a hand hovering over my head. Not the kind of "love" that makes it impossible to breathe.

Miss Ky.

Tham Tu set down his chopsticks.

There is something I want to say, but I am afraid it might be too abrupt.

I looked at him. The tips of his ears had turned slightly red.