Chapter 6 — I Won't Wait for You to Return

Women these days are truly terrifying; if they cannot have their way, they would rather tear everything down.

Reading these words, a strange sense of calm washed over me. In the past, the thing I feared most was any negative gossip surrounding Ze Yu. The first time he was nominated for Best Supporting Actor, I hid in the backstage storage room to iron his tuxedo. Before the red carpet ceremony began, he slipped in and kissed my forehead.

"Tranh, wait until I am a bit more established, and I will walk the red carpet with you."

That evening, he strode alone under the blinding glare of the camera flashes. A reporter at the interview station asked him, "Ze Yu, is there someone special in your life right now?"

He smiled gently for the cameras and replied, "Not at the moment. I want to focus entirely on my career."

I watched the livestream from the storage room, the iron in my hand burning a hole right through his backup dress shirt. When Yan was packing her bags, she pulled out an old fountain pen. It was a gift from Dien, bought with his first national scholarship.

"Yan, when we go to register our marriage, I want to use this pen to sign our names."

Later on, Dien used that very same model of pen to write a letter of recommendation for a junior colleague to go on an overseas exchange program.

"Throw it away," I said, looking at the pen.

"Done."

Yan didn't hesitate for a second as she tossed it into the trash. The landlady saw us clearing out our belongings and, without asking any questions, simply handed us a large cardboard box. "Whatever you don't want, put it in here. Tomorrow there is a flea market in the village; we can sell them and use the money to buy wine."

A local man who was tending to a fire in the courtyard looked up and called out to us, "There is a torchlight market in the village tonight—are you coming? Whatever is bothering you, just throw it into the flames and let it burn away."

Yan and I exchanged a glance and picked up the cardboard box. The night market was vibrant, the torches casting a glow that lit up half the sky. I rummaged through the box and pulled out a faded movie ticket. It was for the first film where Ze Yu had spoken lines; he had booked out the entire back row and held my hand tightly in the dark. I cast that ticket, along with seven years of humble youth, into the blazing charcoal brazier. The fire consumed it in a heartbeat, leaving not even a speck of ash behind. Yan placed the fountain pen on a second-hand stall and used a calligraphy brush to write a sign: "Relics of a scumbag, nine dollars and ninety cents, shipping included."

Just as we turned around to go buy some grilled skewers, our phones rang simultaneously. Both were from completely unfamiliar numbers. I answered, and a cold female voice sounded from the other end: "Ms. Tan, I am Ze Yu's manager. Let’s meet, or I will have my lawyers come find you."

On Yan’s side, the connection had also been established; it was the voice of a middle-aged man. "Is this Yan? I am the Deputy Party Secretary of the Chemistry Department at the University. Regarding the recent online rumors involving the student Dien, the department would like to meet with you to understand the situation."

Their tone was not overtly aggressive; it could even be considered polite. But beneath that politeness lay a condescending, scrutinizing attitude. It was as if Yan were not the woman who had been betrayed for eight years, but rather a nuisance that needed to be "talked to," "steered," and "dealt with" through ideological re-education. Yan clutched her phone, her knuckles turning white. I glanced at her, then looked down at the strange sequence of numbers on my own screen.

"Ms. Tan, please look over this non-disclosure agreement. If there are no issues, sign it right away," the manager's voice on the other end demanded, leaving no room for refusal. "The agreement clearly states that you may not disclose any chat history, photos, recordings, or scheduling information related to Ze Yu in any form whatsoever."