Chapter 9 — He Only Woke Up After the Divorce

Could you give me some space?

He would always offer the same response:

Certainly. I will do better next time.

Yet, every next time was worse than the last. Now, he claims he remembers. He recalls just how wretched he was. And then what? I waited for his next words. True to form, he finally spoke:

I will not disturb you again.

...

The cars have been withdrawn. Chau An will not appear again either. Your life is no longer related to mine.

Those words fell from his lips, carrying more weight than anything he had ever said before. Because in the past, his declarations were always:

You belong to me.

You cannot run away.

I could never let you go.

And now he said... no longer related to me.

Bui Dien...

That man.

He paused for a moment.

Does he treat you well?

He is merely a client of mine.

That is not what I am asking.

The rain grew heavier. The car windows were shrouded in water, so blurred that nothing beyond the glass could be seen.

He will not be like me.

Bui Dien stated.

Then that is a good thing.

He laughed then. It was a faint, clipped sound. It felt as if something had cracked open, only to be forcibly suppressed once more.

Goodbye, Ky Duong.

Click. The call ended. I sat in the car, clutching my phone tightly. The rain hammered against the roof like ten thousand hands beating down at once. I did not cry. I did not weep at all. I simply sat there for a long time. So long that the rain eventually ceased. So long that the sky turned completely dark. Bui Dien kept his word. He truly vanished. He disappeared entirely. There were no cars, no flowers, no messages, and no frantic texts from Chau An. My life suddenly felt as clean as if someone had taken an eraser to it. There were no traces left behind. The first week, I felt a sense of relief. The second week, I felt free. By the third week, however... I began to suffer from insomnia. It was not because I missed him, but because it was too quiet. For three years, I had grown accustomed to being held by the waist in the middle of the night, used to the steady rhythm of breath against my ear, and habituated to the fact that I only needed to turn around to touch a warm chest. Now, there was nothing. Only myself. And the ceiling.

This is just withdrawal, Hua Nhung said bluntly.

It is like quitting smoking; once you endure this phase, you will be fine.

I know.

Do not belittle yourself.

I will not.

And indeed, I did not. I continued my work, kept taking on projects, and continued pushing forward with the villa venture alongside Tham Tu. Tham Tu never revisited the words he had left unsaid that day, but his attitude remained unchanged. He was gentle, composed, and never crossed any boundaries. Occasionally, he would bring me an oat milk latte, placing it on my desk without a word. Sometimes, he would send me photos of his cat with a brief note: It tore up the house again today.

I would respond with a simple smiling emoji. Everything was developing in a positive direction. Until the fourth week... I went to the supermarket to buy groceries. As I pushed my cart through the snack aisle, my hand instinctively reached for a bag of beef jerky. The kind Bui Dien liked. The spicy, numbing kind. I held that bag, staring blankly for three seconds. Then, I placed it back on the shelf. I walked two steps, turned back, and picked it up again. Then I put it down once more. Finally, I stood before the shelf, struggling with a packet of jerky for a full minute. The woman next to me began to look at me as if I were mentally ill. I turned and walked away. I bought nothing. On the way home, I passed the office building where Bui Dien's company was headquartered. I should have kept driving straight. But the steering wheel drifted to the right of its own accord. My speed slowed. My eyes uncontrollably scanned the entrance of the building. There was no Maybach. No sign of him. Nothing at all.

Ky Duong, what are you doing?

I scolded myself. Then, I pressed down hard on the accelerator and drove away.