Chapter 2 — On the day of divorce, I applied to quit my job

I didn't look back at the building. The lights on the forty-second floor are still on, but they no longer have anything to do with me. The phone vibrated once. It's Co Hanh's WeChat message: "Go back to your old house for dinner on Saturday, mom told you to bring me along." Not a single word of address. Not a question. Still exactly the same as before, as if assigning work to subordinates. I looked at the message for three seconds, then turned off the screen and hailed a taxi.

"Driver, Dong Ho Thuy street."

That's where my best friend Phuong Du lives. The car had just passed two intersections when the phone rang again. The OA system sends a notification: "Your resignation application has entered the approval process, expected to be completed within 24 hours." I turned off the notifications, leaned back in the back seat and closed my eyes. The sound of rain outside the window sounded vaguely distant, as if separated by an invisible curtain. Phuong Du was waiting for me in the lobby, holding an umbrella in one hand and a plastic bag in the other, containing two cans of beer and a package of roasted peanuts. As soon as she saw me get out of the car, she immediately tilted the umbrella towards me: "Your face looks terrible. How did he react?"

"Where to sign?"

"That's the only sentence he said to me today. Where to sign."

Phuong Du was stunned for two seconds, then stuffed the can of beer into my hand: "Go upstairs. Don't think about the last name Co tonight. Finish your drink and go to sleep." Arriving at the apartment, her living room was messy but had a breath of life. Clothes piled up on the sofa, laptop open on the tea table, the screen still running design software. Phuong Du is a freelance illustrator, whose daily schedule is almost completely opposite to that of normal people. I put the paper bag on the ground, brought out the pot of snake tongue and placed it on the windowsill. Phuong Du opened two cans of beer and gave me one: "Tell me, what are your plans for the future?"

"Rest for a few days."

"What about work?"

"Let's figure it out later."

"Are you really not going to work at Co Thi anymore? If you say you quit after six years of experience, do you quit?"

I took a sip of beer, the froth of the beer made my throat burn a little.

"Why stay? Being his assistant for six years isn't enough. Should I also be his ex-husband's assistant?"

Phuong Du did not answer, but after a while, he quietly said: "That's right." That night I slept in her second bedroom. The bed sheets had just been changed, smelling faintly of mint from laundry detergent. I lay in the dark, my phone face down next to my pillow. I never responded to Co Hanh's message from beginning to end. No need to answer anymore. At ten o'clock the next morning, I received a WeChat message from Head of Department Luu from Human Resources: "All approval has been completed. Please come over this afternoon to get your resignation confirmation." I only replied with one word: Right after that, there was another message, this time from his personal account: "Assistant Lam, I'll tell you something. General Manager Co ended his business trip to Singapore this morning earlier than expected, and will come to the company in the afternoon. Do you want to..." I didn't finish reading before exiting the chat box. At two o'clock in the afternoon, I went to the company to get my resignation confirmation and signed the final confirmation. The whole process only takes fifteen minutes, when entering or exiting, go through the side door. Right around that time, what happened on the forty-second floor of Co Thi, I don't know, nor do I want to know. But Phuong Du later recounted that that afternoon, the Co Thi building indeed had quite an interesting drama. Phuong Du is famous lots of news. Her college friend, who was working in the Planning department of Co Thi Real Estate, sent her a voice message that same day.

"You don't know, at two o'clock in the afternoon, General Director Co just got off the plane and went straight to the company. As soon as he walked in the door, the first thing he said was to call Lam Chieu for a meeting."

"And then what?"

"Head of Department Luu from Human Resources stood outside the door and said Lam Chieu had quit his job yesterday."

"How did Co Hanh react?"

"I heard that he stood there for a few seconds without saying anything, then asked who approved it. The whole room was silent, no one dared to speak."

When Phuong Du told me this part, I was sitting on her balcony eating a boxed lunch. I just picked up a piece of sweet and sour fried ribs with my chopsticks. After listening, I calmly put it in my mouth.

"It doesn't concern me anymore."

"You're really calm."

"It's not calm, it's not necessary. Doesn't he always think it makes no difference whether I go or stay? Then I'll really go and show him."

Phuong Du looked at me, wanted to say something but stopped, in the end just smiled: "Okay, let's eat." After eating, I opened the recruitment application. Six years of experience as an assistant to the General Director is considered valuable in this city, but I don't want to continue being an assistant anymore. Being someone else's shadow, six years is enough. Browsing around, I noticed the position of Operations Director of a medium-sized design company. The salary is about twenty percent lower than Co Thi's, but she gets to leave work on time, doesn't have to be on call twenty-four out of twenty, nor is she called up at three in the morning just to edit a PowerPoint. I submitted my application, turned off my phone and went to sleep. On the third day, Co Hanh's WeChat sent a second message.

"About going to my old house for dinner on Saturday, are you finally coming?"

Compared to the previous message, this time there are two more words: "finally". For Co Hanh, perhaps this was considered an expression of emotion. I answered with four words:

"Already divorced."

After sending, I dragged his chat box to the bottom, did not delete it, and did not pin it. He didn't text back anymore. On the fourth day, a strange phone number called, I picked up.

"Is that Lam Chieu? You are Co Hanh's mother."

Tham Van's voice was still as gentle as before, sounding like she was asking about family matters. But I understand this mother-in-law too well, that gentleness is just a cover, and what is hidden inside has never been soft.

"Hello uncle."

"Listen to Hanh Hanh... have you two gone through the procedures?"

"You two are doing this too hastily. Come home for dinner on Saturday. Let's sit down and talk properly. I have something to say to you."

"Uncle, we have thought very carefully. The divorce papers have also been received, everything has been decided."