Chapter 14 — No Resentment, No Forgiveness

I scanned the message briefly, then replied to Tao To with only two words:

"I know."

Tao To shot back instantly: "Is that really all the reaction you have?"

I chuckled. "What other reaction should there be? I had anticipated this outcome long ago."

A marriage built upon a foundation of lies never stood a chance from the very beginning. The fact that it survived for nearly a year was already far longer than I had expected. Later, did Hien Chu try to contact me? Yes. Only once. He sent a message consisting of exactly three words: "Are you okay?"

I answered with two: "Very well."

And then, there was nothing else. Someone once asked me, "Do you still hate him?"

I pondered for a long time before finally replying, "I do not hate him, but I do not forgive him, either."

These two stances are not contradictory. I harbor no hatred because he is no longer worth the expenditure of a single shred of my emotion. As for the lack of forgiveness, it is because some wounds cannot be erased by a simple "I am sorry."

Following that annual gala, I began to venture into a much larger market. With full authority granted by Director Ngo, our company officially expanded nationwide. I followed business delegations everywhere, visiting over a dozen cities, meeting all kinds of clients, and negotiating project after project. That year, I flew on nearly two hundred flights. Tao To teased me, saying, "You are practically a flight attendant now."

I laughed, replying, "It is fine. I enjoy the feeling of standing at great heights."

On the final day of the year, I sat alone on a flight home. Outside the window lay the pitch-black night sky, and beneath the clouds, the city lights shimmered like fallen stars. I rested my head against the airplane window, suddenly recalling the photocopied marriage certificate. The groom was Hien Chu; the bride was Vu Tu Lam. The date of the registration happened to be my own birthday. That very same day, I had disabled my location services, silenced all his notifications, booked my ticket, and packed my bags. That evening, when he returned home and wrapped his arms around me, he still called me "my wife."

I had only smiled, saying nothing. But in my heart, that door had already closed quietly a long time ago. Someone once asked me, "Nhuoc Tinh Tan, at what point did you become so patient?"

It was not that I knew how to endure; it was that I was waiting. I was waiting for the day when every question would have an answer. But now, I no longer need to wait. Everything that belongs to me has returned, piece by piece. The airplane began its descent. The lights outside the window grew closer and more brilliant. The city unfolded beneath me like a map, or perhaps a new stage, quietly waiting for my arrival.

Two years later, my name appeared on the executive board list of the city’s Wedding Planning Association, ranked third. That day, during the association meeting, Director Ngo introduced me to everyone. He smiled and said, "This is our company partner, Nhuoc Tinh Tan, one of the most brilliant event planners in the industry."

I stood up and offered a slight bow to the room. Among the audience were many familiar faces: wedding photographers, venue managers, suppliers. Some had collaborated with Hien Chu two years prior, while others were currently working with my company. Yet, the way they looked at me had shifted entirely. Two years ago, in their eyes, I was merely a planner at an events firm—or simply Hien Chu’s girlfriend—a girl so ordinary she was barely worth noting. But now, those gazes had changed. There was seriousness, there was genuine respect, and there was something more.