Chapter 18 — Marriage and Love Are Two Things, So Divorce Is Also My Thing

The small red notebook lies in my hand, feeling light. Pho Thua Nghien held his book and stared at it for a long time. Stepping out of the hall, he stood in the sunlight and suddenly asked softly: "Lam Tri Hoa, will you still remember me in the future?" I put the divorce certificate in my pocket. He immediately raised his head. I said: "Every time I remember you, I will remind myself to never give face to someone who doesn't deserve it again." His eyes darkened little by little.

"I understand."

I nodded and walked out. He didn't chase. Below the steps, Tong Di Duong drove to pick me up. She lowered the window: "Are you done?" I sat in the passenger seat: "It's done." She handed me a file.

"The money returned by Wen Shu Dieu has been deposited into her account, and the compensation has also been received. Her side asked someone to ask if the photo of the public apology could be taken down."

I buckled my seatbelt: "Impossible." Tong Di Duong smiled and started the car. The car left the Civil Affairs Department, the corn leaves along the road were blown up by the wind, passing close to the window. I turned my head and looked back. Pho Thua Nghien is still standing on the steps. He clasped the divorce certificate in his hand, bowed his head, and his back was stretched by the sunlight. The next second, he slowly squatted down, his elbows on his knees, his shoulders slumped. There was no one to help him. I retracted my gaze. Later, Tran Uc sent me a very long message apologizing. He said that at that time he was too talkative and was on the wrong side, only later did he realize how many miserable things Pho Thua Nghien had done during that marriage. I don't answer. Hua Hanh also sent a message. I block it. Wen Shuyao disappeared for a while. It is said that she no longer has a place in her classmate group, and her work is also affected. It's not because I forced her. But after that apology statement spread, everyone finally knew that there was nothing wrong with her so-called reunion, but behind it were hotel bills and joint accounts of other people's families. She sent me the last text message.

"Lam Tri Hoa, are you really not jealous of me? Thua Nghien used to love me."

After reading it, I burst out laughing. Then answered her: "You just keep it, the way he loves someone is both a waste of money and a loss of face." After sending it, I blocked her. Pho Thua Nghien has sought me out several times. The first time was under my company building. He was holding a bag of apples, standing in the wind. As soon as he saw me coming out, he immediately came over.

"Tri Hoa, I've finished peeling it, it's not oxidized."

In a transparent box, apples are cut into small pieces and soaked in dilute salt water. I took a quick look.

"Now I don't like eating apples anymore."

His hand stiffened in midair. I walked around him. The second time was in front of my mother's flower shop. He bought a bouquet of auspicious flowers and waited until it got dark. Before closing the door, my mother asked me: "Do you want to go out and say a few words?" At that time I was changing the soil for a pot of green plants, my fingers pressed deep into the damp mud.

"No need."

Mom nodded and rolled the door down. When the door was half lowered, I saw Pho Thua Nghien still standing outside, his eyes red, his lips moving slightly. Maybe he's calling my name. The rolling door completely lowered, hitting the ground heavily. The third time, he didn't show up. He sent Give me a delivery package. Inside is a very thick handwritten notebook. Each page records the mistakes he remembers. Birthday night. My mother-in-law arbitrarily opened my package. Peel shrimp at the party. Stayed at the hotel all night. He said that only now did he understand that I didn't suddenly leave, but swallowed my disappointment over and over again, until finally I couldn't swallow it anymore. On the last page, he wrote: "Tri Hoa, I will always wait for you." I closed the notebook and put it in the cardboard box. In the box, there was also a document on the division of money after selling the wedding ring, a copy of the divorce agreement and a statement of apology from Wen Shuyao. I sealed the carton and wrote four words on it.

"Useless old stuff."

The next day, I sent the box back to him. No messages included. Life doesn't suddenly become more exciting. I still go to work, edit plans, discuss budgets with customers, and in the evening go to the flower shop to help my mother water the plants. It's just that the house is quieter. No one says I'm too serious anymore. No one told me not to accept it anymore. No one uses my dignity to compensate for other people's shortcomings. One night, after returning from overtime, I passed by that restaurant. The light in front of the door was still on, raindrops fell on the stone steps, just like that night. I stopped for a few seconds. Through the glass door, a man pulled out a chair for a woman, someone raised a glass and laughed, and a waiter carried a bowl of hot soup through the hallway. I suddenly remembered the shrimp that had been peeled that day. Remember what Pho Thua Nghien once said: "Marriage and love are two different things." At that time, I sat there, the bowl of soup was cold, and my fingertips were cold. And now, the wind is blowing, I pull my coat tight and continue to walk forward. The phone rang softly. Tong Di Duong texted: "Next week there will be a legal discussion on trademarks. Would you like to come and share about women's awareness of property during marriage? It's okay to not show your face." I replied: "You can show your face." She sent back a thumbs up. I put my phone in my pocket, raised my head and looked towards the intersection. The green light turns on. The line of people walked forward. I also stepped forward. Don't look back.