Chapter 1 — One Sentence Scares Away the Whole In-Law Family

The moment my parents-in-law brought their little granddaughter over, I knew this summer vacation was ruined. Last time, my daughter's piano was smashed to pieces, and the little girl didn't even utter a single apology. My mother-in-law had only scolded me for being petty.

It is just a battered old instrument, she had snapped. We will compensate you later, won't we?

To this day, not a single penny has been paid. This year, I explicitly warned them that the child was under no circumstances to be brought to our home again. And yet, she was led right up to our front doorstep. I did not utter a single angry word; instead, I simply smiled and poured the little girl a glass of water. At four o'clock the following morning, I grabbed my suitcases and took my daughter away from that house. The moment our plane touched down in Phuket, my phone lit up with twenty-three missed calls. My mother-in-law had left a string of voice messages, each one longer and more venomous than the last. But I replied with only a single sentence, and she fell instantly, utterly silent.

The doorbell chimed. I emerged from the kitchen, wiping my hands on a towel. On the screen, the overly enthusiastic face of Truong Thuy Lien filled the entire camera lens. Standing right beside her was her daughter's child, Dao Dao. My husband's voice drifted out from the home study.

Who is it?

Your mother.

I told him, my voice completely devoid of emotion. Chu Hang strode out quickly, an unnatural smile plastered across his face, and beat me to the door.

Mother, Dao Dao, come right inside. It is scorching hot out there.

Truong Thuy Lien pulled Dao Dao along, swaggering through the entryway like a victorious general, though her eyes darting toward me were filled with scrutiny and undisguised provocation.

To Thuy, why are you standing there like a statue? Go pour Dao Dao a glass of juice, and make sure it is ice-cold.

She issued commands with effortless familiarity, acting entirely as if this were her own home. Dao Dao shook off her grandmother's grip, keeping her dusty shoes on, and stomped heavily into the living room. With a clear target in mind, she charged straight toward my daughter's play area. My gaze swept past the two of them and landed squarely on Chu Hang. He quickly averted his eyes, not daring to meet my gaze. I understood everything. Last summer, Dao Dao had stormed in with the exact same momentum, holding a toy hammer in her hand. Ten minutes later, my daughter's piano emitted a series of screeching, agonizing sounds. The keys were smashed to flinders, and the wooden lid was scarred with deep dents. That piano had been a first-birthday gift to my daughter from my father. He passed away in the second year of my marriage. It was the only tangible piece of him left for his granddaughter. Back then, I trembled with fury as I grabbed Dao Dao by the hand. The child was already six years old, hardly a toddler, yet her eyes held no fear whatsoever. Instead, she shrieked right in my face.

You are hurting me! You wicked woman!

Truong Thuy Lien lunged forward, shoving me aside to shelter Dao Dao behind her back.

Why are you bickering with a mere child! It is only a broken instrument, is there any need to make such a tremendous fuss?

Lac Lac is terrified! Dao Dao must apologize right now!

Apologize for what? You leave such expensive rubbish right out in the open living room, were you not deliberately tempting a child? Besides, it is just junk left behind by a dead man, what is so precious about it?

The blood rushed violently to my head at that exact moment. Chu Hang grabbed my arm, repeating endlessly like a broken record.

Let it go, just let it go. Mother did not mean it.

In the end, Truong Thuy Lien scooped up the smug, triumphant Dao Dao and left. Compensation? Not a single coin. An apology? Not a single syllable. Early this spring, I had issued an ultimatum to Chu Hang.

If your mother dares to bring Dao Dao over to this house this summer, we are getting a divorce.

Back then, Chu Hang had beaten his chest and sworn with absolute certainty that such a thing would never happen. Now, he stood before me like a coward waiting to receive his sentence. Truong Thuy Lien had already changed into house slippers, seating herself comfortably on the sofa with her legs crossed as she coldly appraised my home.

To Thuy, you must not be so petty this year. It was difficult enough for Dao Dao to come for a visit, so as her aunt, you need to be much more generous.

Her words felt like sharp needles piercing directly into an old, unhealed wound. I ignored her entirely and walked straight into the kitchen. Chu Hang followed me, lowering his voice.

Thuy Thuy, listen to my explanation. This morning, my mother brought the child directly down to my office building. How could I possibly let her cause a scene right there at my workplace?

So you just brought her home?

I asked.

She will only stay for a few days, I promise you. I will keep a strict eye on Dao Dao and make sure she never touches your belongings again.

He raised his hand in a solemn oath, his expression dripping with earnestness. I looked at him and suddenly found the entire situation bitterly amusing. A promise? How was his vow any different from a piece of scrap paper blowing in the street? Without another word, I opened the refrigerator, retrieved a carton of orange juice, poured it into an elegant glass, and inserted a straw. Carrying the glass, I walked back out with a pleasant smile gracing my face. When Truong Thuy Lien saw me smiling, the guarded look on her features instantly vanished, replaced by an expression of smug triumph. She believed she had won once again. I handed the glass to the little girl.

Dao Dao, welcome to our home.

My voice was exceptionally gentle. Dao Dao accepted the juice and pulled a mischievous face at me. I turned around and addressed Truong Thuy Lien and Chu Hang.

You all continue your conversation. I am taking Lac Lac to her room to paint.

The moment I closed the door to the bedroom, the smile vanished completely from my face. I pulled out my phone and opened an application I had not used in a long time. Destination: Phuket. Time: Early tomorrow morning. Passengers: To Thuy, Chu Lac Lac. I entered my payment password, confirmed the reservation, and locked in the tickets. The battle had officially begun. Yet they remained entirely oblivious.

Dinner was the truest reflection of this household. Dao Dao threw green vegetables wildly across the floor, using her chopsticks to poke haphazardly at the dishes.

I will not eat this! I want fried chicken! I want a hamburger!

Truong Thuy Lien picked out the largest piece of sweet and sour spare rib, placing it directly into Dao Dao's bowl while speaking in a tone of sickening indulgence.

Good girl Dao Dao, eat the meat first, and tomorrow Grandma will take you out for fast food.

Lac Lac ate her rice quietly, her small frame curled tightly in her chair as she tried desperately to minimize her presence. Dao Dao's eyes darted around the table before locking onto the sole prawn in Lac Lac's bowl. It was the only one on the table, which I had carefully peeled just for my daughter. Without waiting for anyone to react, Dao Dao thrust her chopsticks forward, snatched the prawn directly from Lac Lac's bowl, shoved it into her mouth, and chewed with blatant satisfaction. Lac Lac froze, her eyes instantly welling up with tears as she looked at me with heartbreaking grievance. I set down my chopsticks and surveyed the scene. Chu Hang immediately stepped in to mediate.

Oh come on, if she likes to eat it, let Lac Lac yield. Lac Lac is the older sister, she needs to be magnanimous.

Those words again. Generosity. By what right must my daughter endure grievance and make concessions simply to manufacture someone else's definition of virtue? Truong Thuy Lien shot a cold glance at Lac Lac without a shred of remorse.

It is merely a prawn, look at that petty expression, she is hardly like a true member of the Chu family.

The very last spark of warmth in my heart was completely extinguished by those words. I said nothing, simply standing up to gently wipe Lac Lac's mouth.

Has Lac Lac eaten her fill?

Lac Lac nodded silently.

Then let us go back to our room. Mommy will tell you a story.

I took my daughter's hand and walked out of the dining room. Behind us came Truong Thuy Lien's disgruntled murmuring and Chu Hang's hesitant sigh. Once inside the room, I locked the door securely. Lac Lac wrapped her arms around my neck, asking in a trembling whisper.

Mommy, am I truly being petty?

I stroked her hair, speaking every word with absolute clarity.

No, you are not. The things that belong to you do not ever need to be surrendered to anyone else. If you do not wish to yield, you do not have to. Even if the sky were to fall, Mommy will hold it up for you.

The little girl's eyes brightened, though they quickly dimmed again.

But Daddy and Grandma...

They do not matter.

I interrupted her firmly.

Lac Lac, you must remember that in this entire world, the two of us are the closest family. Mommy will protect you forever and ever.

After lulling Lac Lac into a deep sleep, I pulled out two suitcases from the closet—one large, one small. I began quietly packing our belongings: summer clothes, the doll Lac Lac cherished most, our passports, identification cards, and the red property ownership certificate from the bedside table. I placed everything of vital importance into my carry-on bag. Throughout the entire process, I did not make a single sound. My movements were calm, deliberate, and efficient. Chu Hang knocked softly on the door.

Thuy Thuy, open the door. Let us talk.

I ignored him completely.

I know you are upset, but Mother is old, please be a bit more accommodating. And Dao Dao is only a child who does not know any better.

He rambled on outside, repeating the same stale, worn-out cliches. I pulled the zipper of the suitcase closed, emitting a very soft click. The sound of his voice stopped instantly outside the wood.

To Thuy, what on earth are you doing in there?

His tone turned sharply vigilant. Still, I offered no reply. He began rattling the doorknob violently, realizing only then that it was locked.

To Thuy! Why are you locking the door! Open it right now!

His voice grew frantic and agitated. I sat quietly by the edge of the bed, watching Lac Lac sleep soundly, feeling an absolute, profound serenity in my chest. This play had finally reached its conclusion. At three-thirty in the morning, the alarm I had set vibrated silently against the mattress. I gently woke Lac Lac and dressed her in warm clothes.

Lac Lac, Mommy is taking you to a very fun place, alright?

The little girl rubbed her sleepy eyes and nodded groggily. I pulled the large suitcase while Lac Lac wheeled her own mini luggage. I softly unlocked our bedroom door. The living room was pitch black, save for the faint sound of snoring drifting from the guest room. Chu Hang had likely retreated back to the master bedroom. I felt not a single shred of reluctance; holding my daughter's hand like two fugitives escaping into the dead of night, I walked quietly toward the front door. The key slid into the lock and turned smoothly. The door swung open. I glanced back one last time at this so-called home. Goodbye. No—never to meet again.

The early morning air carried a sharp chill. Lac Lac and I stood by the curbside just as the headlights of our booked ride pierced through the darkness, pulling up smoothly right in front of us. The kind driver helped load our luggage into the trunk.

To Terminal 3 of the airport, please.

The vehicle glided steadily down the deserted streets. Lac Lac leaned against my chest and drifted off to sleep once more. I watched the cityscapes flash rapidly past the window, my heart completely devoid of ripples. No anger, no lingering attachment—only the tranquil peace of ultimate liberation. Much like pulling out a tooth that had rotted down to the root, the process might have brought a sharp pain, but once it was removed, the entire world instantly felt light and weightless. As the aircraft soared upward into the sky, the roaring engines pulled me from my wandering thoughts. Through the cabin window, the city transformed into countless sparkling specks of light, shrinking steadily before vanishing completely into the thick blanket of clouds. Lac Lac was intensely excited; this was her very first time flying. Her little face pressed eagerly against the glass, staring in sheer wonder at the sea of white clouds outside.

Mommy, are we going up to play on the clouds?

We are going to a place even more fun than the clouds.

I smiled gently, adjusting her hair. That destination possessed golden sands, an endless blue ocean, swaying coconut palms, and most importantly, no Chu Hang, no Truong Thuy Lien, and no Dao Dao. That place was our sanctuary. Five hours later, the plane touched down smoothly at Phuket International Airport. A warm, humid breeze swept across our faces, carrying a distinctly salty tang. I had reserved a hotel in advance featuring a private beach and a dedicated children's playground. After completing the check-in formalities, I finally turned on the phone that had remained powered off throughout our entire journey. The moment it booted up, the device buzzed frantically. Countless notifications flooded the screen: twenty-three missed calls in total—seventeen from Chu Hang, and six from Truong Thuy Lien.