Chapter 1 — Price

Pho Chi took his son to see his ex-lover's show, and no matter how many phone calls I made, he refused to pick up. He casually said he was busy, but then posted a photo of a happy family of three with his ex-lover on his friends circle. But I took the wrong medicine at home and almost lost my life. After returning from the dead, I placed the signed divorce agreement in front of Pho Chi. He didn't believe I really wanted a divorce, and arrogantly sarcastically said: "Can you live without me?" I firmly told him to sign. The father and son just stood looking at me with cold eyes, as if waiting for me to stumble and then turn back on my own. Unexpectedly, the further I went, the farther I went. Never look back at them again. 1 After suggesting a divorce to Pho Chi, he came home less and less. When the photo of him going to see Tong Lo's performance became a hot search, I was counting the prescriptions the doctor gave me. The maid who took care of me was about to speak but then stopped. It wasn't until the end of her shift that she couldn't help but speak: "Tieu Tu, it's okay for a husband and wife to argue a little, but if you argue too much, it will only push you further away." I put the neatly arranged pile of medicine aside, thanked my aunt, and sent her home. Open a bottle of red wine and the more you drink, the more alert you become. Called Pho Chi several times, but he didn't answer the phone, only sent back two words: "Busy." Two bottles of wine were empty, I staggered upstairs. On the nightstand there is still a photo taken together when we were still passionate - two smiling faces next to each other, looking back now, we only see irony. I turned the photo frame upside down and walked into the bathroom. Warm water poured over my body, my phone vibrating next to me. I picked it up to see, it was a news announcement. Swiping over to enter WeChat, I saw that Pho Chi had just updated his status ten minutes ago. Attached is a group photo - three pairs of parents: his parents, the Tong family's parents, Pho Chi standing in the front row on the right, on the left is Tong Lo, between the two is my son - Pho Tu Ang. {Read full at Nguyet Hoa Cac page} The boy held each person's hand on each side, smiling brightly looking towards the camera. They... are the real family. The phone slipped from my hand, fell into the water and sank. I leaned my head back against the bathtub, the world was spinning, my stomach felt like it was on fire. I remember the past ten years with him - from lovebirds that everyone admired, to now strangers. I was once like Tong Lo, once standing on a stage with sparkling lights. The first two years when Pho Tu Ang was born were the happiest times of my life. When my son was two years old, I returned to work. My parents saw me off to the airport, but on the way, we had a serious accident. My life fell from the peak to the abyss - I lost both my parents, my body was injured. Lying on the hospital bed, hearing the doctor say I might never stand up again, I was so desperate that I no longer had the courage to continue living. Extremely painful. During the day, I still try my best to smile and comfort my relatives who are still around: "It's good to be alive, it's lucky to be able to keep my life." But at night, I kept asking myself: During more than twenty years of living in this world, what heinous crime did I commit? Otherwise... why would we encounter suffering? so? After the incident, there were people who pitied me, and there were also people who took the opportunity to put me down. Some people said I was ambitious and gave birth early to tie Pho Chi down. I was afraid of being abandoned so I quickly returned to the stage to stay in shape. There are also people who feel sorry for my parents - they put all their heart and soul into raising me as a person, but before I could enjoy the blessings, I got involved and lost my life. The words of comfort and encouragement were on the lips, but behind them were cruel sarcastic words. Everything was like snowballs, rolling around and getting bigger, weighing so heavily in my heart that it almost crushed the last bit of will to survive. When I changed the medicine, I was in so much pain that my face twisted, my hands clutched the edge of the bed, I moaned non-stop, cried and told Pho Chi that I couldn't stand it anymore. He hugged me, shed tears, and comforted me little by little like he was comforting a child. The time I was in the hospital for treatment was also the time his career was skyrocketing. Yet he let go of everything without hesitation, day and night by my side, never taking a step away. He said, money can be earned back, but I only have one. At that time, he was my spiritual support, my everything, the only fulcrum in that dark life. I naively thought that as long as I could cross the boundary between life and death and continue living, I would be fine. But overcoming physical pain, overcoming every big and small surgery, overcoming the risk of paralysis, overcoming the arduous rehabilitation process - and then finally having to face the difference in life, with a body full of injuries and no longer being yourself. All past glory vanished like bubbles. 2 I fell asleep in the bath. When I opened my eyes, I was awakened by a knock on the door. I was still lying face down in the tub, the water had drained out for who knows how long. The floor was full of vomit mixed with undissolved pills, and a foul smell was strong in the air. I forced myself to put my cold, numb hands on the edge of the tub and slowly stepped out. Grabbing her bathrobe, she accidentally glanced at the mirror—a face like a female devil was reflected in it. His long hair was wet, his face was pale, his eyes were dumbfounded. The corners of the mouth still have dry stains after vomiting. Stepping out of the bathroom, I discovered that the sky was already bright. Outside, the knocking on the door turned into a loud banging. Pho Tu Ang called out: "Mom, wake up quickly!" I turned the doorknob, and the boy carrying a backpack rushed in: "Mom, hurry up, I'm going to be late..." Halfway through the sentence, he stopped. He covered his nose and mouth tightly, backed away repeatedly, looked up at me from head to toe, frowned and said: "Mom, it's so dirty!" “What is that terrible smell in the room?” “Mom doesn't do anything all day at home, at least clean it up.” I tried to curl my lips, stepped back a bit, and whispered: "Sorry..." Realizing that my face was so bad, Tu Ang turned away: "That's it, sports festival, mom, you can just stop going." I was about to nod in agreement, but a wave of nausea hit me. Before I could speak, I spat it all out, and my eyes turned dark. As I fell, the last image I saw was my son's terrified eyes, pressed against the wall. 3 Because I overdosed on alcohol and drugs, I was taken to the emergency room. When I woke up, it was three days later. The hospital room was quiet with no one in sight. Aunt Duong came to bring me food and sat by the bed in tears rolling over with heartache. “No matter what, you shouldn't harm your body like that.” "Do you know how dangerous this time is? I almost couldn't save you anymore." I hoarsely tried to explain: "I just drank too much alcohol... I don't want to commit suicide." But she didn't believe it. Not only did she not believe it— No one believed it. Even Pho Chi, they all thought that this time it was just another trick of mine - using death as a threat again. When I was discharged from the hospital, Pho Chi came to pick me up. Pho Tu Ang sat in the back seat, his eyes and voice were cautious and careful: "Mom, dad bought you the cake you like the most." I looked back, saw the delicate cake box sitting there, and quietly said thank you. Pho Chi was on the phone, his face tilted coldly, his long fingers tapping absentmindedly on the steering wheel. I adjusted the passenger seat. As soon as he hung up, he leaned over, took the seat belt from my hand and with a "click" sound, put it on for me. At that moment, our bodies were so close that I instinctively leaned back slightly to avoid it. He seemed to realize, paused a bit and then raised his head to look at me. I turned my face out the window and said nothing. At night, I discovered that Pho Chi had moved back to sleep in the main room. I finished showering and came out to see him spreading the blanket. “Are you going to sleep here?” "YES." “Then I'll go to the living room.” Before I could step out the door, Pho Chi pulled my hand back and said in a rare gentle voice: "Don't make trouble anymore." We have been in separate bedrooms for more than half a year, physical intimacy has long been a thing of the past. Lying in the same bed, each person facing the other side, like two worlds. In the middle of the night, I woke up thirsty and next to me was empty. I went outside to pour water, then I heard Pho Chi calling on the phone on the balcony - the door was not closed properly, the voice carried into the room. It's been a long time since I've heard him use such a gentle, even gentle tone. “Yes, you can decide for yourself.” “It's okay, we'll discuss it later.” His voice stopped for a moment, his tone changed a bit: "She was discharged from the hospital today, her condition is fine." “Don't worry…” I finished drinking the glass of water and went back to bed. After a while, Pho Chi also returned, his side of the bed slightly sank. Just as I was about to fall asleep, suddenly an arm wrapped around my waist. I woke up startled, quickly jumped up and pushed him away. Pho Chi turned on the bedside lamp and sat up as well, his face still showing that familiar expression - the corners of his eyes and eyebrows clearly showed unhappiness, as if he was trying to suppress his anger: "What's wrong?" I rubbed my forehead, not yet able to speak. Pho Chi closed his eyes, sighed, his voice tired: "I have tried to satisfy all your requests. What else do you want?" My nails dug deep into my palms, I just felt extremely humiliated.