Chapter 4 — Post-Divorce Rebound: Claiming My Daughter and Starting Over

My heart felt as if it were being crushed by an invisible hand, the pain so acute it left me struggling for breath.

"It is alright, Nuon Nuon," I whispered, stroking her hair over and over again, trying to soothe the tremors in her small frame. "Mother is right here. We will take things slowly, one step at a time. I am never leaving your side, so please, do not be afraid."

The second order of business was survival. I began picking up freelance commissions online—commercial illustrations and simple design layouts. The pay was modest, but it provided the immediate cash flow required to keep us afloat. In the quiet hours of the night, I would pick up my brushes again. These were no longer the sterile landscape oil paintings the Gu family had demanded I produce to hang in their foyer—pieces meant to flaunt the "refined taste of the lady of the house." Instead, I painted the illustrations I had always truly loved: works filled with raw emotion and a voice that was finally my own. My brushstrokes felt rusty, hesitant, yet the sensation of creation was slowly returning, steady and sure. I digitized my work and uploaded it to a social media account that had sat dormant for years. It was an old profile from my university days, containing only a handful of relics from the past and a meager following of former classmates. I expected nothing from it; I merely sought a quiet sanctuary for my own spirit.

A week drifted by in this fashion. Poverty, industry, and the constant presence of Nuon Nuon made for a life that was surprisingly tranquil. Yet, within that peace, a low-lying sense of dread began to stir, like the humid stillness before a violent storm. I knew better than to be fooled. Gu Dinh Tham was not a man who would simply walk away. An individual as arrogant and possessive as he—having had his facade of control torn to shreds in front of everyone—would not let me go so easily.

Sure enough, on the afternoon of the eighth day, there was a knock at the door. It was not Dinh Tham. Standing on my threshold were my mother-in-law, Chu Bich Hoa, and with her, Lam Vy Vy. Bich Hoa was dressed in an expensive hand-embroidered cheongsam topped with a fur coat; her hair was coiffed to perfection, not a single strand out of place. Every line on her face exuded a harsh, scrutinizing judgment. Behind her stood Gu Tu Thuy, who fidgeted incessantly, his expression one of blatant impatience. Beside them, Vy Vy wore a soft, cream-colored cashmere ensemble. Her makeup was delicate, her long hair cascading softly over her shoulders. She carried a basket of fruit and a beautifully wrapped toy gift box, her lips curled into a smile that was measured, gentle, and laced with a performative touch of guilt.

"Thanh Uyen," Vy Vy spoke first, her voice so fluid and honeyed it seemed as though it might drip. "Mother and I have come to visit you and Nuon Nuon. These past few days… you two must have suffered terribly, haven't you?"

Bich Hoa let out a sharp, cold huff. Her eyes darted around my small, tidy living room, her gaze sweeping over the space as if she were inspecting a trash heap. "I told you, once you leave the Gu household, you are nothing! Look at where you are living—a kennel would be more dignified than this place! How could my grandson ever be brought to such a miserable hole?"

My grandson? I noted that only Tu Thuy was with them. Where were Tu Hien and Tu Hao? Was it because they were considered "too precious" for this neighborhood, or was there another calculation behind Dinh Tham’s decision?

"Mother, Vy Vy, what brings you here?" I remained standing firmly in the doorway, refusing to step aside. My tone was composed, my demeanor icy. I still addressed them by their old titles, but the distance between us was now a chasm.

Bich Hoa’s face immediately contorted in indignation, her brows arching sharply. "What is this? Am I not allowed here? Diep Thanh Uyen, you have certainly grown bold! To speak to Dinh Tham the way you did, and then to simply walk out! Do you have any idea how much chaos there is with Tu Hien and the children? Because you are not there, there is no one left to manage them!"

"It is true, Thanh Uyen," Vy Vy chimed in instantly, her expression a mask of manufactured concern. "Just yesterday, Tu Hien flatly refused to eat anything prepared by the nanny, demanding to see you instead. And for Tu Hao’s parent-teacher conference, he insisted that only you should be the one to attend."