Chapter 17 — Marriage and Love Are Two Things, So Divorce Is Also My Thing

I didn't reply. He continued:

"His mother cried for a long time, asking him why he had lived to this extent."

I looked at the electronic board in front of me, constantly jumping numbers. His voice became lower and lower.

"Before, I always thought you could handle everything well. Things at home, work, my mother, even my emotions. You didn't cry, you didn't make a fuss, so I thought you didn't feel sorry for yourself."

"I just find it less annoying."

He nodded, his eyes red.

"I feel less bothered."

"I see your understanding as something that doesn't need to be paid for."

At that moment, our order number appeared. I stood up. Pho Thua Nghien still sat still. I looked at him. He raised his head to look at me, tears glistening in his eye sockets.

"Can... wait another month?"

"Cannot."

His lips trembled.

"Isn't just one day enough?"

He bowed his head, his shoulders slumped again. A couple sitting next to us turned to look at us. The woman held the child in her arms, her eyes full of complexity. Finally, Pho Thua Nghien also stood up. In front of the check-in counter, the staff compared our documents and asked if we were voluntary or not.

"Voluntarily."

Pho Thua Nghien's voice choked. The employee raised his head.

"Sir?"

He gently closed his eyes.

"Voluntarily."

The tip of the pen glides across the paper, making a rustling sound. I signed the three words Lam Tri Hoa. After signing, my wrist felt light as if it was no longer mine. Thirty days waiting for mediation. The staff returned the documents and reminded us to come back to check in after the deadline expired. When I walked out of the Civil Affairs Department, Deputy Thua Nghien stood on the steps and suddenly called me back. I turned my head. He took out a small box from his coat pocket. I recognized that box. It's the wedding ring he gave me three years ago. Later I took it apart and put it in a drawer. He brought it.

"I was packing my things yesterday when I saw it."

I looked at the box.

"You keep it."

He shook his head.

"It's mine."

I received it and opened it. The ring lay quietly inside, the diamond glinting softly in the cold light. There was a time when I wore this ring to cook, work overtime, go to the hospital to take care of my mother-in-law's intravenous fluids, and then stay up late waiting for him to come home. Later, because of housework, her finger turned red, and the ring formed a ring on her skin. I took out the ring and walked to the roadside trash can. Pho Thua Nghien's face immediately changed. I don't throw it away. I just put the ring in my bag.

"Assets during the marriage can still be divided when sold."

Pho Thua Nghien was stunned, then smiled bitterly, tears falling.

"Now that you're talking... I really don't leave you any room to retreat."

I looked at him.

"In the past three years, I've given you enough ways to escape."

He covered his eyes and squatted down on the steps. A grown man. Sitting in front of the gate of the Civil Affairs Department. Shoulders tremble intermittently. I don't give tissues. The wind blew until it stung my eyes. I turned around and walked towards the parking lot. The phone suddenly rang. I picked up the phone.

"Are you done yet?"

"There's still time to wait for reconciliation."

"Let's go home for dinner tonight."

"Mom bought the ribs and stewed them in soup for you."

My throat constricted.

"I'm divorced."

"Mom, aren't you sad?"

The other end of the line was silent for two seconds.

"You leave someone who doesn't deserve it."

"Mom, why are you sad?"

I tightened the power phone.

"I'm going home."

That evening, I returned to my mother's small flower shop. As soon as the wind chimes in front of the door rang, my mother poked her head out from behind the flower stand, her hands still covered in dirt. In the shop there are roses, auspicious flowers and eucalyptus leaves, the cool, moist floral scent fills the nostrils. Mom saw me, didn't ask anything else, just quietly took off her apron. At the dinner table, my mother gave me a piece of ribs. I took a bite. A bowl of hot soup flows down your throat. My stomach is finally no longer cold. The phone screen lights up. Deputy Thua Nghien sent a photo. On the dining table in the living room, place two peeled apples. He texted: "I just learned today that apples left for a long time will oxidize." I looked at that photo, and after a long time I answered with three words.

"Yes, humans too."

【Chapter 12】 Thirty days later, Pho Thua Nghien and I went to the Civil Affairs Department again. This time, he didn't beg me to wait any longer. He wore a white shirt, a dark suit over it, his beard was cleanly shaven, but the dark circles under his eyes were clearly visible. I passed the file over. The staff checked, stamped and gave the divorce certificate to us.