Chapter 2 — Post-Divorce Rebound: Claiming My Daughter and Starting Over

Yet, not a single tear fell. It turns out that when the heart has completely withered and gone silent, it truly loses the capacity to weep. The three young boys seemed to sense that the atmosphere had shifted into something precarious. Co Tu Hien, the eldest, lunged forward, instinctively aiming a kick at me as he had done so many times before.

You wicked woman! How dare you scold my father! I am going to tell Grandmother to beat you!

If this had been the past, I would have flinched, endured the blow, and perhaps even pulled him into an embrace to patiently reason with him. But now, I simply tilted my body, evading the kick with fluid grace. The boy’s foot met only air, sending him stumbling forward, nearly collapsing onto the floor. He froze, staring at me in utter bewilderment, seemingly unable to comprehend why a doormat like me—a woman he viewed as soft as a bruised plum—would dare to evade him.

Co Dinh Tham.

I turned my gaze away from the spoiled child, fixing my eyes once more upon the face of my former husband.

The divorce papers are signed. The decree has been received. Legally speaking, from this moment forward, I have no connection to you or your family.

Right now, I only want to take my daughter, Diep Noan Noan, and leave this place.

As for your three sons…

I paused, my eyes sweeping over their small faces—some filled with indignation, others blank with confusion. They carried the blood of Co Dinh Tham and Lam Vy Vy, yet they had consumed the five most vibrant years of my life.

They belong to their own. Return them to their father and that woman, Dr. Lam Vy Vy. I wish your family of five a wonderful, fulfilling union.

Having said my piece, I stopped caring how Co Dinh Tham might react. I ignored the shrill, demanding cries of the three boys, and I paid no mind to whoever might have fainted on the floor above. I turned, crouched down, and poured every ounce of my remaining strength into a smile—the first genuine, tender, and truly relieved smile I had offered my timid daughter in five long years.

Noan Noan. Mother is taking you home. We are going to our own home now.

Noan Noan lifted her small, pale face. Her wide eyes held a mixture of confusion and a fragile, flickering light of hope—a hope she was terrified to believe was real. She hesitantly reached out with her small, shaking hand, brushing my cheek as if to verify that the reality before her was not a dream. I caught her cold, trembling fingers, cradling them in my palms to offer what warmth I could.

Then, I stood up, holding her hand firmly. Together, we walked step by step toward the heavy threshold that had held me prisoner like a common criminal for half a decade. Behind me, I could hear Co Dinh Tham’s heavy, labored breathing, the indignant, piercing wails of the three boys, and the sound of expensive porcelain shattering as it was swept from the tables. Outside, the rain grew increasingly frantic, lashing against the glass.

But before me, the road through the storm—the path to freedom and an uncertain future—was slowly unfurling. I understood perfectly well that obtaining the divorce papers was merely the first step. Escaping this man-eating manor was only the beginning. Co Dinh Tham would not let go so easily. The grandmother who doted on those three boys would never concede. And then there was Lam Vy Vy, the woman who had lurked in the shadows for four years. The days ahead would certainly not be peaceful.

But what of it?

I tightened my grip on my daughter’s hand and straightened my spine. The woman I once was had died—she had perished within the five years of cold, deception, and oppression spent in this house. From this day forward, only I, Diep Thanh Uyen, would remain. A version of myself strong enough to shelter myself and my daughter from any storm.

The first task was simple: get out of here. We were headed to the small, forty-square-meter apartment I had secretly rented in advance. A clean, modest place filled with nothing but sunlight. As we moved toward the exit, I felt the reassuring weight of the hard plastic cards hidden in the secret compartment of my old canvas bag—the foundation of the life I was about to reclaim.