Chapter 1 — I Never Thought We'd Get Divorced

The perfect husband who had loved me for ten years and gifted me jewelry worth tens of millions of dollars looked at me and said, "Giang Mat, let's get a divorce. I want to give her an official status."

Early the next morning, we went to the Civil Affairs Bureau. That night, Pho Trach Nguyen did not come home. He booked out my favorite restaurant to celebrate his escape from the "abyss of misery" with his young mistress. Meanwhile, my phone kept ringing incessantly with incoming messages.

"Let's meet up, Giang Mat, right now."

"Mat Mat, I have never forgotten you."

"Junior, I'm waiting for you at our usual spot."

***

Under a gusty sky, Pho Trach Nguyen and I walked into the Civil Affairs Bureau. Seeing my hair in disarray, he gently tucked a stray strand behind my ear. Observing this intimate gesture, the clerk behind the desk took the initiative to pull out a registration number for marriage.

"I'm sorry, we are here for a divorce."

Upon hearing my words, the staff members exchanged bewildered glances. At the divorce counter, the clerk asked the husband for his reason. Pho Trach Nguyen remained silent, so I answered on his behalf:

"Incompatible personalities, and an irreparable breakdown of our marriage."

Anyone listening could tell it was merely a polite formality. The real reason was simple: Pho Trach Nguyen had a young girlfriend for whom he was willing to abandon everything. She was an intern at his company. He drove her to and from work, nursed her when she was sick, and, under the watchful eyes of the crowd during a university competition, presented her with ninety-nine champagne roses. He had transformed himself into her devoted guardian. As for me, my reason was much simpler. I never reuse secondhand things. Looking at our two faded marriage certificates, the clerk sincerely advised us not to act on impulse.

"I am very busy. Please expedite the process."

The cold, aloof tone of the handsome man before her caused the clerk to speed up the paperwork significantly. An hour later, Pho Trach Nguyen and I received our divorce application confirmation, beginning our thirty-day cooling-off period. He pressed his thin lips together slightly.

"Mat... Giang Mat, where are you planning to go next? Let me drive you."

Without giving me a chance to refuse, he quickly strode to the parking lot and pulled the car right up to where I stood. I reached out to open the front passenger door. But then I remembered—he and I were no longer husband and wife. Ultimately, under his confused and slightly sorrowful gaze, I calmly opened the back door and slid into the rear seat.

The black sedan silently merged into the heavy traffic. Even from the back, I could tell he was in an exceptionally good mood. I spoke up, asking him to turn up the air conditioner. The cold was triggering my rhinitis, making me sniffle constantly. He remained silent, handing me a half-empty pack of tissues. We were childhood sweethearts who had been married for ten years; he knew full well that I had never suffered from rhinitis in my life.

"Giang Mat, about our divorce, let me be the one to break it to your parents."

Pho Trach Nguyen was still the same as ever, always wanting to take all the responsibility upon himself. In truth, he hadn't always been like this. As a child, he was as thin as a beanpole, quiet, and incredibly timid. In kindergarten, he was frequently bullied by the rowdy boys, his clothes constantly soiled and stained. Back then, I—a girl who looked gentle but was actually the undisputed boss of the playground—decided to step in because his mother often gave me candy. I stood on the school's PA stage with my hands on my hips and declared to the entire kindergarten:

"Pho Trach Nguyen is Giang Mat's little brother!"

From that day on, the timid little boy gradually grew into the school heartthrob adored by countless girls. Back then, I regarded him as my best friend, while he used the excuse of "urgent math tutoring" to cling to me every single day, insisting that we apply to the same university. In the end, we did get into the same school. Pho Trach Nguyen became my ultimate romantic gatekeeper. With him by my side, no matter how attractive or popular I was, not a single boy dared to approach me throughout those four years of college.

On our graduation day, he took me to the campus observatory. He turned off all the lights in the building, leaving only a brilliant, simulated cosmic sky that I had never seen before. Holding my hand, his palm slick with sweat, he asked, "Mat Mat, will you marry me? I swear I will treat you well for the rest of my life." At that time, I had agreed without a single shred of hesitation. But today, faced with his hypocritical pity, I refused him bluntly without a second thought.

"Mr. Pho, you don't need to worry about my affairs. I know how to handle them myself."

***

My polite yet distant tone made Pho Trach Nguyen frown instinctively. After a brief silence, he asked me with a half-smile how I planned to explain this divorce to my parents. Seeing that I remained silent, he let out a cold laugh.

"Giang Mat, don't tell me you're regretting this already."

Sensing his gaze on me, I finally put my phone down and threw him a dismissive, patronizing glance.

"Oh? Right, right, whatever you say is correct. In short, just focus on your driving and don't get distracted."

I had no desire to die in a traffic accident with my ex-husband on my very first day of being single. Detecting the sheer nonchalance in my voice, Pho Trach Nguyen tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Suddenly, the car's Bluetooth system rang, blasting a sweet love song popular among young girls. Right in front of me, he answered the call.

A young woman’s incredibly sweet, coquettish voice echoed through the cabin. She whined about having to attend several classes in a row and being so hungry she felt like fainting. Pho Trach Nguyen glanced at me through the rearview mirror. Seeing that my expression remained completely unaffected, he smiled tenderly into the receiver.

"I know my little greedy cat is hungry. I'm on my way to buy some boat congee for you right now."

As soon as the call ended, before he could even speak, I proactively pointed toward the upcoming intersection.

"Just let me off at the next corner."

The black sedan pulled over. The moment I stepped out, Pho Trach Nguyen sped away without a backward glance. Watching his car disappear around the bend, my body broke out in a cold sweat, and the throbbing spasm in my right leg finally became too much to bear. I collapsed onto the curb.

Two months ago, he had called me to say he had left some crucial documents at home. I picked them up and drove toward his office. Along the way, an overloaded truck tipped over while taking a sharp turn and crushed my car. Although I survived, my right leg suffered severe blood loss and was crushed for too long, leaving me facing the very real threat of amputation.

That day, in a state of utter panic and tears, I called him countless times. His phone was always turned off. I only found out later that because his little intern had casually mentioned, "I've never seen a pigeon in my life," he had immediately booked a flight to Prague, taking her on a week-long vacation. Not wanting my parents to worry, I underwent the surgery with only my best friend, Lieu Cam, by my side. Thanks to the doctors' dedicated efforts, my leg was ultimately saved. As for the man who was utterly useless to me in a matter of life and death—I no longer needed him.

Returning to my empty apartment, I cooked myself a simple meal. Just as I finished eating at a leisurely pace, I received an outraged text from Lieu Cam:

"Mat Mat, you and Pho Trach Nguyen haven't even officially divorced yet, and he's already taking his mistress out to celebrate in public!"

Attached was a photo of him enjoying a romantic dinner with the young girl. I recognized the restaurant instantly—it was the very place we went every year for our wedding anniversary. Suddenly, a wave of intense nausea washed over me. My phone rang, but I didn't care to answer. I rushed to the bathroom and threw up several times before finally feeling a bit of relief.

In that dazed, exhausted moment, a sudden thought struck me.

Early the next morning, I went to the hospital. After reviewing my blood test results, the doctor smiled and said, "Congratulations, Mrs. Giang, you are three months pregnant."

I fell silent for a long moment, then softly replied, "Please schedule the procedure for me."

During the first three years of our marriage, Pho Trach Nguyen and I had been inseparable, and he had constantly yearned for us to have a child together. Yet, for all those years, despite both of us being perfectly healthy, we never had any good news. Now, the child was here, but everything had changed. I could not keep this baby.

Just as I stepped out of the clinic, I saw Pho Trach Nguyen and his young girlfriend, Hua Tu Tu, standing right outside the door. My hand instinctively tightened around the strap of my bag.