Chapter 9 — Tears in the Frost

The doctor allowed Thư Nhã to be discharged from the hospital that afternoon, with strict instructions about absolute rest for the next few days. Bách Việt personally took her back to the apartment, but the whole way, he hardly said a word, just sat silently looking out the glass window, his hands occasionally tightening and then loosening, as if trying to control a storm of emotions rolling inside.

When he got home, he helped her lie down on the sofa, poured her a glass of warm water, every gesture was thoughtful down to the smallest detail, but there was a complete lack of any words expressing his true feelings. He behaved like someone who was fulfilling his duty to take care of a patient, not like a father who just found out he was going to have a baby.

"You need to think a little." Finally, he said, stood up and walked towards his private office. "You should rest first."

Thư Nhã lay there, watching his back disappear behind the door, her heart grew colder with each step he took away. She had anticipated this reaction, told herself to mentally prepare for a possible coldness, but when she actually faced it, the painful feeling was still beyond all imagination.

She lay there for a long time, looking at the light shining from the crack in the office door, wondering what he was thinking behind that closed door. Are you calculating the best way to handle an unexpected situation, or were you struggling with your true feelings and not knowing how to express them? Whatever it was, his prolonged silence still made her feel like she was alone facing the greatest event of her life.

*

Three days later, Bách Việt lived in a state that Thư Nhã had never seen in him during the three years of knowing him - both overly attentive in small things, and strangely distant in every conversation that might touch on the topic of the child or the future of both of them.

He instructed the personal chef to prepare a suitable nutritional menu for pregnant women, personally rearranged the bedroom to have more comfortable resting space for her, and even quietly researched and made an appointment with the most prestigious obstetrics hospital in the city. But every time Thư Nhã tried to start a conversation about long-term plans, about whether he wanted to make their true relationship public or not, he always tried to avoid it with work reasons.

"Do you think we should disclose our marriage to the board of directors?" One evening, while the two were having a meal in an atmosphere of oppressive silence, Thư Nhã timidly asked, trying to seize the rare opportunity when Bách Việt seemed more relaxed than usual.

He stopped his chopsticks mid-step, his eyes flashed with a flash of hesitation very quickly before answering. "This matter needs time to be carefully considered. Currently the company's situation is quite sensitive with the Hằng Phát case, making it public now may not be the best time."

"So when is the best time?" She asked again, unable to hide the disappointment in her voice.

"I don't know yet," he replied, avoiding her eyes, focusing on the plate of food in front of him. "Give me more time, okay?"

Thư Nhã remained silent, not asking any more questions, but in her heart, a new crack appeared, deeper and more painful than all the previous cracks. She didn't know whether his hesitation stemmed from worries about the company's situation as he said, or there was another deeper reason — perhaps, even though he knew about the child, he was still not ready to give up some connection with Tống Khả Di, who held an important cooperation opportunity that the company could not take lightly.

*

The office atmosphere became more stuffy than ever when Thư Nhã returned to work after a few days of forced rest. Curious eyes, whispers behind her back, judgmental looks every time she passed by - all created an invisible pressure that weighed heavily on her shoulders every day.

"Miss Thư Nhã, are you feeling better?" A colleague asked with fake concern, his eyes secretly glanced down at her abdomen as if trying to find some evidence.

"I'm fine, thank you for asking," Thư Nhã replied, kept a polite but forced smile, and quickly walked towards the elevator to avoid having to face more judgmental eyes.

In the elevator, she saw Phùng Nhược My waiting with several other senior assistants. The woman glanced at her, the corners of her lips curling up into an unpredictable smile. "I heard that the General Director hasn't made any official statement about this yet. You must be very worried."

The sentence seemed concerned but contained a subtle sarcasm that made Thư Nhã tighten her handbag. "My personal matters, I don't think need to be discussed in public."

"Oh, I was just asking." Phùng Nhược My smiled faintly, then turned to chat with the person next to her as if nothing happened, but her eyes flashed with a cold, calculating light before stepping out of the elevator on her working floor.

*

That night, when returning to the apartment, Thư Nhã sat alone in her private office, reopening the spending list for the plan to leave that she had made in advance. She looked at the numbers, the detailed estimates, and wondered if she should speed up this plan, before things got more confusing and painful.

The door opened slightly and Bách Việt walked in, holding a cup of warm ginger tea - the drink he knew helped her relieve nausea most effectively. He put the cup of tea on the table, saw the laptop screen she was open, his eyes froze when he realized it was a spreadsheet of expenses for an independent life.

"What is this?" His voice was low, with a slight tremble that was barely perceptible.

Thư Nhã was startled and quickly closed her laptop, but it was too late. "Nothing, just calculating some personal expenses."

"You're planning on leaving," he said, not a question, but a firm statement, his voice sounded like someone had just strangled his throat. "Right?"

She didn't answer, just bowed her head, silence was the clearest answer.

"Why?" He asked, stepping closer, his voice carrying genuine, undisguised emotion for the first time in days—a genuine panic. "Because of the child? Because you haven't made our marriage public yet? Because of Hằng Phát?"

"For everything." Thư Nhã looked up, her tears could no longer be held back. "Because I don't want to live forever in a marriage where you have to work hard to fulfill your responsibilities, while your heart may be drawn to someone else. I don't want our children to grow up in a family like that, Bách Việt."

He stood still, his face for the first time showing complete hurt and confusion, without any trace of his usual cold control. But before he could say anything else, the phone in his pocket rang, and a name appeared on the screen that made both of them dumbfounded: Tống Khả Di.

Bách Việt looked at the phone, then at Thư Nhã, hesitation was evident on his face for a few short seconds but enough to deepen a new wound in her heart. In the end, he turned off the call, but that moment of hesitation said everything Thư Nhã needed to know.

"Thư Nhã, wait," he called out, his voice urgent, but she didn't want to hear any more explanations now. He stood there, watching the bedroom door close in front of him, the feeling of helplessness rising stronger than ever. He knew he needed to do something, needed to prove to her the difference between her and Khả Di in his heart, but all the words he had prepared in his mind suddenly disappeared, leaving only a terrifying emptiness.

He plopped down on the sofa, his head in his hands, feeling completely disoriented for the first time in his life in a situation that no contract or business strategy could help him solve. Outside, the first snow of the season began to fall lightly, covering the window frame in a thin layer, like a cold reminder of the growing distance between the two of them.

She stood up, walked past him, walked towards the bedroom, leaving him standing there alone in the middle of the office, his hand still tightly clutching the phone that had just turned off the call, his heart mixed between responsibility, secrets, and a feeling he had never had the courage to admit out loud.