Chapter 3 — I'm No Longer A Reasonable Daughter-in-law

Outside the living room, Ha Man's family woke up. Trieu Loi was warming milk in the kitchen, the two older children continued to fight over the tablet. My mother-in-law stood on the balcony collecting clothes. When she saw me pulling the suitcase, the smile on her face suddenly stiffened.

“To Uyen, what are you doing?”

"I took Doa Doa to my grandmother's house to play for a few days. The house is too crowded, it's inconvenient to stay."

“But there's no need to bring so much stuff…”

“Must bring it.” I smiled lightly, "I'll probably stay for quite a while."

Doa Doa finished putting on her shoes, pulled her rabbit suitcase and walked over: "Hello, grandmother! I'm going to my grandmother's house!" The mother-in-law opened her mouth, but couldn't say anything. Ha Man just came out of the bathroom, her hair was still wet: "Sister-in-law left so early? Let's go after breakfast, Mr. Loi just finished heating the milk."

“No need, my mother has already cooked it.”

Pulling my suitcase in one hand and my child in the other, I walked straight out the door without looking back. The elevator slowly went down. Doa Doa looked up at me: "Mom, when are we going home?"

“When will the house no longer be cramped?”

"So when is the youngest going?"

“I don't know.”

In the elevator mirror, my mother and I appeared clearly. I wore a denim jacket, light makeup, and looked like a normal day at work. Only I know, something in my heart just broke. The car rolled out of the apartment complex. I glanced at the rearview mirror. Ha Tuan stood on the balcony looking down, Doa Doa waved goodbye to his father. Through a turn, everything behind disappears. The trip to my grandmother's house took an hour and a half. On both sides of the April highway are green wheat fields, the wind blows through them like waves. Doa Doa sat in the back, singing and making up her own lyrics, the melody was messy but full of excitement. I lowered the window and the wind rushed in, taking away the stuffy feeling that had accumulated all night. The phone vibrates. It's Ha Tuan. I don't listen. The bell rang again. Still ignored. The third time, I turned on the speakerphone.

“Are you really gone?” His voice revealed panic.

"If you leave, can you still fake it?"

"No... Su Uyen, please go back, can we talk properly? If you leave like this, what will my parents think? What do Min and her husband think?"

“Does it matter what they think?” I looked straight at the road ahead, "Ha Tuan, I ask you. If today my brother's family moved to our house for more than half a year, would you agree?"

The other side was silent.

“See?” I smiled faintly, "You yourself don't accept it. So why do you force me?"

“The circumstances are different… Ha Man is my biological sister…”

"She is your sister, and isn't Doa Doa your child? Aren't you my wife?"

“I didn't mean that…”

“So what do you mean?”

Another long silence.

“That's it.” I said, “I'm driving, turn off the engine.”

"To Uyen! When will you come back?"

“Depends on mood.”

I hung up. In the car, there was only the monotonous navigation voice: "Three hundred meters ahead, please turn right." Doa Doa leaned forward: "Mom, did you have an argument with dad?"

“No need to argue.” I patted my child's head, "There are just a few things, I need to think clearly."

“What are you thinking, Mom?”

“Think about what should be tolerated and what shouldn't.”

The girl nodded, then bent down to paste the sticker into the notebook. More than an hour later, the car entered the district center. This is where I grew up. The road seemed smaller than in memory, but the ginkgo rows on both sides were much taller. The old stationery store is still there, the sign has been changed several times. The smell of fried dough at the alley's restaurant is still familiar as if it had never left. Mom stood waiting in the apartment lobby. Seeing my car, she smiled and waved. Doa Doa leaned out the window and shouted loudly: "Grandma!" My mother's eyes curved up like two moons.

“Why do you bring so many things?” Mom looked at the suitcase in surprise.

“I plan to stay a few more days.”

“Stay as long as you like.” Mom smiled, leading Doa in one hand and carrying groceries in the other, "Your father went to the market early in the morning and said he had to cook rib soup for you, your favorite dish when you were little."

The bridge of my nose stings. Entering the house, a familiar smell struck. On the tea table is a plate of my favorite tangerines, on the sofa is a striped blanket I bought in college, and on the shelf are still my painting trophies from the past. In this place, I will forever be a cherished child. Dad came out of the kitchen, his apron still covered in grease.

“Are you home yet?” Dad laughed loudly, "I've finished kneading the dough, let's eat hand-rolled noodles for lunch."

“Let me help dad.”

“No need, go out with mom.”

I still walked into the kitchen, washed my hands and stood next to my dad. Dad kneaded the dough, I cut the noodles. The dough is so flexible that when boiled, it never breaks. I have learned this skill for twenty years and still have not mastered it.

“Is work not going well?” Dad asked, without looking up.

“It's normal.”

“So why stop?”

The knife in my hand stopped: "I just feel tired and want to rest for a while." Dad didn't ask more. He was always like that, no pressure, no questioning, just standing there quietly. But whenever I needed him, he was never absent. While putting the noodles in the pot, outside the living room, the laughter of Doa Doa and her mother were playing a jigsaw puzzle. The rising steam obscured the kitchen window. I suddenly remembered when I was little, on a weekend like this, I was lying on the kitchen table drawing watercolors, my mother was standing there stewing soup, my father was chopping vegetables. At that time, I thought those peaceful days would last forever.

“To Uyen.” Dad suddenly spoke.

“No matter what happens, this place will always be my home.”

I lowered my head and dropped the noodles into the pot of boiling water. A drop of water fell into the pot without making any sound. Lunch was very sumptuous. Rib soup, eggs stir-fried with tomatoes, stir-fried spicy and sour potato strips, and a huge bowl of hand-rolled noodles. Dad kept giving me food and kept criticizing me for being too skinny. Mom diligently peeled shrimp for Doa Doa. Every shell she peeled, she put in her bowl.

“Grandma, there are a lot of people coming to stay at my house.” Doa Doa suddenly said.

Mom looked over at me.

“Ha Man's family moved in together.” I said briefly, "Tell me that the new house is being renovated so I have to stay here for more than half a year."

Mom's chopsticks stopped.

“A family of four?” Dad put down the bowl.

“Three more children.”

“How can my husband and I fit into our three-bedroom, two-living house?”

“Clean up the children's study room, spread out the sleeping mats in the living room.”

I spoke very gently. But the parents' faces were clearly gloomy.

“So what is Ha Tuan's attitude?” Mom asked.

“His father announced it right away, without even discussing anything.”

The dining table fell silent for a long time. Dad was the first to speak: "Eat the noodles, the noodles are all bloated." But whoever eats the remaining rice doesn't feel delicious anymore. Only Doa Doa is still chirping and telling stories from kindergarten, showing off that today the teacher praised her for drawing the most beautiful cat in the class. After eating, Doa Doa went to take a nap. My mother and I sat on rattan chairs on the balcony, while my father rubbed wash dishes in the kitchen.

“What do you think?” Mom asked.

“I don't know.” I told the truth, "But I don't want to live with them. I paid half the deposit for that house, and paid it in installments for four years. Now it's like the Ha family's public dormitory, anyone who wants to can come in."

“So what did Ha Tuan say?”

“Tell me to try to endure for more than half a year.”

Mom sighed.

"To Uyen, I may not have heard what you said. In the past few years, you have endured too much. About the bride price when getting married, hold back. About the down payment to buy a house, hold back. About giving birth to Doa Doa, also hold back. Now that they are pressuring you to this extent, are you still going to hold back?"

I looked at the clothesline on the balcony, Doa Doa's little dress swaying gently in the wind.

“I don't want to hold back anymore.”