Chapter 2 — Price

4 The second day after being discharged from the hospital, Pho Chi's mother came to visit me at home, accompanied by a relative from the Pho family. On the outside, everyone is polite and polite. The wife of the Pho family - neatly dressed, with delicate makeup - treated me like her own daughter in front of me, asking questions attentively, her eyes full of sadness. But behind his back he sighed to his relative: "Your family is still really good, but my family really serves a little Buddha in the house." "It's a pity that I didn't choose Lo Lo before, at least it was an acquaintance who knew his background well." “Maybe it's just not fate... Who knows if there will be another chance in the future.” At that time, I was looking at the divorce agreement that the lawyer drafted, clutching the phone tightly, pretending not to hear anything. A week later, I found a new house, finished packing my luggage, prepared the divorce agreement, and texted Pho Chi to come home a little early. That day it rained very heavily. I waited at home from five o'clock in the afternoon to nearly ten o'clock at night. Pho Chi finally returned, his body reeking of alcohol. Seeing me sitting on the sofa, he stopped, as if he just remembered that I texted him to come home early. He glanced at his watch, then apologized: "I was busy, forgot." “It's good to be back.” I gave him the documents in my hand. “Look, if there's nothing, sign it.” Pho Chi took it, and as soon as he saw the three words "divorce agreement" he was stunned: "Are you serious?" "YES." He tossed the documents on the table, smiled faintly and mocked: "If you leave me, can you survive?" “No need for me to worry.” Pho Chi's eyes gradually darkened, the smoldering anger spread, he coldly sneered: "You've used this trick of 'softly and tightly', you've used it too much, do you really want a divorce?" "Actually." “Fine.” He looked cold, picked up the pen on the table and quickly signed the papers, then pushed them back to me: "As you wish. Don't regret it." Pho Chi stood up, as if suddenly remembering something: "What about Tu Ang? What do you think?" I said: “Ask me.” It also gives the boy the right to choose. In terms of compensation, I only take the reasonable portion of property that belongs to me, not a penny more. Custody of the child, if he wants it, I'll give it up. If he doesn't want it, I'll take the child away. But most of the Pho family will not let me have custody of my children. Before Tu Ang was three years old, I took care of her. She and her mother were very close. After the accident, losing both my biological parents, my spirit was seriously depressed and for a long time I did not dare to see my children. It wasn't until I was rehabilitated that I allowed Tu Ang to come see me, but when he saw me, he seemed strange and scared. Later, during the long treatment period, both my body and mind were not enough to raise my child. Tu Ang mainly lives with his grandparents and is now seven years old. They taught me very well, but my child and I were no longer as close as before, and our child's distance was mixed with some vague contempt. Even if I wanted to take my child away, he might not want to follow me. Sure enough, when he learned that we were actually about to divorce, Tu Ang was both surprised and confused, but it was not too difficult to accept. I squatted down and asked: "Do you want to go with mom?" Tu Ang was silent, his hands clasped tightly at his side out of tension. He replied: "Mom, I'll wait for you to come home." “What if mom doesn't come back?” The boy firmly said: "Mom will definitely come back." Go to the Civil Department gate main, the car stopped but Pho Chi refused to unlock the car door. He gave me one last chance to change my mind: "Think carefully before getting off the bus." I only said two words: "Open the door." Stepping out of the Civil Affairs Department, he did not ask where I was going, nor did I say. Pho Chi climbed into the car and drove away without looking back once. 5 After the divorce, I moved to live in the west of the city. I decided to divorce Pho Chi, not because I thought it through, but on the contrary, because I couldn't think clearly, so I wanted to leave him. I'm afraid that if I continue to live like this, sooner or later one day I won't be able to control myself and will drag him down with me to hell. When I realized that extreme thoughts were appearing in my head more and more often, I went to a psychologist. Finally, she advised me: “Try letting yourself go for once.” Leave Pho Chi, leave that house, give yourself some private time. Live each day as if it were your last — do whatever you think. After trying everything – whether meaningful or meaningless – then decide if this life is still worth living. Pho Chi... is not worth ruining my life. The tenth day after leaving him was also the tenth day I stood on the floor looking down at the street. The rain stopped and the sun came out. People passing by on the street gradually returned. I opened the door and stepped out — the first time in so many days, I tried to leave the house. Just let them look, I can't hear the gossip behind my back anyway. In this place, no one knows that I was the Lam Tu of the past, no one compares the person I was before with the person I am now. If one day I die, people will just say: "That cripple is dead." In the blink of an eye, three months have passed. During this time, I started practicing going out, trying all kinds of different challenges. I tortured myself almost cruelly — forcing myself to step into the crowd, endure other people's looks, endure curious questions, endure even looks with confusing meanings. Every time I emotionally collapsed, I went home and drank. Drink until you're drunk, like two people are arguing fiercely in your head. One person said: "If you can't stand it anymore, stop it and let it go." The other person shouted loudly: "What the hell should I let go? It's been so difficult to survive until today, and I've come this far, how can I give up?" The second month after the divorce, I went for a follow-up check-up. The doctor praised my condition for being much better. We talked for a long time. She said: "Actually, it's not that I'm afraid of other people's discriminatory eyes. I'm just like Pho Chi - unable to accept my own shortcomings." The third month after the divorce, I gradually became close to Aunt Ly - the neighbor across the street. She is retired, has two children - her daughter opened a bakery near the gate of the area. Aunt Ly is an optimistic person, speaks with charm and humor. Talking about my legs, she said: "It doesn't matter if one leg is broken, there are still three healthy legs!" Talking about her unfinished career, she said: "Most of a person's life is spent sitting under the stage, not standing on it forever." “If you can't be an actor, then be an audience member.” I was eating the dumplings my aunt made, laughing, laughing, then suddenly tears just kept flowing. Being close, my aunt dragged me to the supermarket to buy things Discount at eight o'clock at night, weaving through the jostling crowd, she shouted loudly: "Go faster!" She also told me to go to her daughter's bakery to work more - if there were many customers, she would give me a small cake as a reward. My aunt pulled me to join the district's square dancing team, saying: "Please help me show us some moves!" I help them correct their movements, sometimes even compose dance routines. I don't know when, I integrated into the elderly group of the residential area. Used to be someone they talked about behind their back. Now I sit among them, listening to them gossip about other people. Suddenly, I felt there was a different understanding of the so-called "equal sentient beings". The dance team gradually became professional, even having its own uniform. Aunt Ly - a well-known person - invited a young man to help take beautiful photos and videos for the whole team. While taking pictures, Aunt Ly pointed at me: "Take a few more pictures of Tieu Tu!" Others also chimed in: "That's right!" “Take a picture of her too!” I looked at the dark lens and instinctively wanted to wave my hand and refuse. But there was a pair of hands gently placed on my shoulders, not letting me step back. Aunt Ly smiled and said: "Just pose a little, your figure is so beautiful, it will definitely look great on you." “That's right!” “Don't stress!” I was very stressed, my throat was dry. It feels like I'm reliving the first time I stood on the official performance stage. Heart pounding, mind spinning. No matter how I tried to pose, it wasn't natural, everyone saw it, but no one pushed me. The photographer looked at the camera for a moment and then asked: "Can you create a bit of a lively atmosphere?" The music rang out, the aunts started shaking their fans and dancing. Using them as the background, I lifted my skirt and performed a few simple basic dance moves. The sound of camera shutters rang out continuously, followed by sobbing compliments: "Very good, very good, very wonderful!" “Relax your facial expression a little and it will look even more beautiful!” “You're beautiful enough to debut!” The corners of my lips couldn't help but curl up, unconsciously looking straight into the camera. At that moment, the music stopped, and a familiar call rang out: "Mom!" I looked in the direction of the sound - meeting the eyes of Pho Tu Ang, with Pho Chi and Tong Lo standing next to me.