Chapter 2 — Tearful Trial

“Of course, Miss Chu.” Tham Ngat's voice carried a familiar gentleness and professionalism, "Your case is very typical."

When they passed the reception room door, I stood up. Tham Ngat saw me, his expression looked blank for a moment: "Why did you come?"

"I..." As the words reached his mouth, he met Ms. Chu's searching eyes, as if he was valuing an item.

"Is there something at home?" Tham Ngat looked at the clock, "I'll have a guest in half an hour."

“Nothing.” I said, “Just passing by, came to see you.”

His eyebrows were slightly furrowed—a sign of “disapproval”. “Let me know next time, I'm very busy.” Ms. Chu smiled slightly: "Lawyer Tham is really busy, Mrs. Tham has to sympathize a lot." The word "dental" is elongated, like a thin needle.

8

I didn't say it. It's not that I don't want to, but I suddenly lost all my courage. In Tham Ngat's perfect world, pregnancy is clearly an unplanned variable. But I know how much you hate having your plans messed up. That night, he indeed went to a celebration party and did not return until dawn. I lay on the bed pretending to sleep, listening to him in the bathroom for a long time. When the sound of the water stopped, he stood at the bedroom door. The moonlight outlined his outline, familiar yet so strange.

“To Van.” He suddenly spoke up.

I didn't move.

“If you get bored,” his voice was very quiet, as if talking to himself, “you can learn something. Flower arranging? Tea ceremony? My mother said these things are suitable for you.”

Then he went into the study room. I opened my eyes and looked at the shadows on the ceiling. The hand gently placed on the lower abdomen, where it was still flat, but there was a growing life.

“Son,” I whispered, “it's not that I don't love you, it's just... it takes time to adjust.”

Who am I convincing?

9

A week later, Tham Ngat officially proposed a divorce. Not in the living room, not in the bedroom, but in his study—territory I was rarely allowed to enter.

“Sit down.” He pointed to the chair opposite, as if he was receiving customers.

On the table was a stack of papers with the five words "Divorce Agreement" written in bold black letters. My ears were ringing, I couldn't hear what he said before. Until he said: “… it would be good for both of us.”

“Why?” My voice sounded like someone else's.

Tham Ngat clasped his ten fingers on the table top—the standard position when he negotiates. "There is a fundamental incompatibility in our marriage. You pursue emotional density, and I need rational space. In the long run, this difference will make both of us suffer."

“So it's been three years since you realized we weren't compatible?”

“Data takes time to accumulate.” He said very calmly, "In the first year of marriage, the number of times we argued was 7; in the second year, 23; in the first half of this year alone, it was 19. Increasing exponentially."

I stared at him: "Do you keep track of the number of arguments?"

“Data recording helps analyze the nature of the problem.” He opened the file and pushed it towards me, "This is a detailed compatibility analysis, including values, living habits, future plans and twelve other aspects. We have eight aspects where the gap exceeds the threshold."

Tables, graphs, percentages... as rigorous as an academic thesis. The lower right corner had his signature, the date was three months ago—it turned out he had been preparing for that long.

“If…” my throat choked, “What if you don't agree?”

Tham Ngat was silent for a few seconds: "Then I will sue in court. According to Article 1079 of the Civil Code, the relationship has really broken down, if reconciliation fails, then divorce must be granted." He paused, adding: "My odds of winning are one hundred percent. You know that." Yes, I know. I'm Tham Ngat, I've never lost.

10

“Is it because of Chu Man?” I suddenly asked.

His eyes sharpened: "This matter has nothing to do with a third party."

“You answered so quickly.” I stood up, papers fell everywhere, "Tham Ngac, look into my eyes and say, you want a divorce and it has nothing to do with Ms. Chu texting you every day?"

For the first time, he looked away: "Her case is very complicated, needs to be discussed regularly."

“What case?”

“Divorce.”

I burst out laughing, tears falling again: "What a coincidence. Great lawyer Tham's client wants a divorce, and great lawyer Tham also wants a divorce. Is this buy one get one free?"

“To Van, pay attention to what I say.” His voice turned cold.

"Your words? Tham Ngat, haven't you paid enough attention these past three years?" I wiped my face, "You have to speak gently, dress modestly, have elegant and useful hobbies... I live to be the person you want, what will be the result? You told me 'incompatible'?"

He stood up, walked around the table towards me. I thought he was going to hug me, but he only stopped a meter away.

“This is the problem.” He said, "You always play the role of 'Mrs. Tham', not yourself. Such a relationship is not healthy."

“That's what I want you to do!”

“So you're wrong.” He said so calmly, “Now correct the mistake.”

I couldn't stand anymore and fell down on the chair. The familiar pain cramped in my lower abdomen again—this was the third time today.

“I'm pregnant.”

The moment the words left my mouth, I immediately regretted it. Don't talk now. It shouldn't be said this way.

11

Tam Ngat's expression froze. Not joy, not surprise, but a more complex emotion, I can't read it.

“How long has it been?” His voice is very flat.

“Nine weeks.”

Silence spread throughout the study room. Outside the window came the sound of a car running, far away as if it belonged to another world. Finally he said: “This will not change my decision.” I thought I heard wrong: “What?”

“A child cannot become a tool to maintain a broken marriage.” He walked to the window, turning his back to me, "You can choose to give birth to it, I will bear all the costs. Or..."

“Or what?”

He didn't continue, but I knew—or quit. My phone rang at that moment, a text message from the hospital: "Ms. To, the results of your prenatal examination are out, the fetus is developing well, please have regular checkups." The screen light in the dark study room became strangely dazzling. Tham Ngat turned around and saw the message. His eyes moved between the phone and me, then said: "I will let the lawyer add a custody clause to the agreement. If you want to keep the baby, you don't need to worry about finances." Professional. Calm. Like you're dealing with someone else's business.

“Tham Ngac,” I asked softly, “have you ever loved me in these three years?”

He was silent for a long time. So long that I already knew the answer.

“Love is a variable, not a constant.” Finally he said, “but marriage needs good parameters decided.”

I nodded, stood up, and walked towards the door. When my hand was on the handle, I said: “I will sign the agreement. But the baby I will give birth to. Not for me, but for yourself.”

“To Van—”

“Also,” I interrupted, “from today, I am no longer ‘Mrs. Tham’.”

Open the door, close the door.

12

The hallway light was much brighter than the study room, so bright it hurt my eyes. I leaned against the wall, slowly squatted down, hugging my knees. The pain in my lower abdomen came intermittently, but I didn't cry. Crying is for people who still care to see. But he doesn't care. In the study room, Tham Ngat stood still, looking at the tightly closed door. The phone vibrates, text message from Chu Man: “Lawyer Tham, are the documents ready for tomorrow? Looking forward to your excellent performance ^_^" He did not answer. He walked to the table, bent down to pick up the scattered papers. One page was a copy of To Van's diary - his team of lawyers found it during the investigation. He had not read it carefully before, but now his eyes stopped at a paragraph:

“Today Tham Ngat said his paintings were 'unprofessional'. Actually, you're right. Since I married you, I have never drawn what I wanted to draw. Yesterday I was looking through my old sketchbook and found a deep whale drawing I drew in college. He said that picture has 'freedom born from death'. Come to think of it, freedom is probably like love, both the price of marriage.”

The edges of the page were stained with light water stains, not sure if they were tea or tears. Tham Ngat folded the paper and placed it in the deepest drawer. Then turn on the computer and start editing the outline of tomorrow's trial. Chu Man's case is very important, there cannot be any mistakes. As for To Van... He glanced at the clock, it was eleven o'clock at night. It's time to rest, get up early tomorrow. Before turning off the light, he noticed something in the corner of the wall. Come closer and see, it's a lipstick, the red color To Van often uses. She must have just dropped it. He picked it up and held it in his hand. The lipstick is more than half used, the shell has small scratches. It's been three years. He put the lipstick in his vest pocket, his movements were very quiet, as if he were hiding evidence. Outside, the night is deep. But he didn't notice, in the trash can of the study room, lay a crumpled ultrasound sheet. In the picture, the tiny gestational sac looks like a star that is about to extinguish but has not yet extinguished.