Chapter 10 — The Call That Locked My In-Laws Out

I gripped the voice recorder, a bitter sting rising in my chest. The Park Hyatt coffee shop was perched on the second floor of a bustling shopping center. By the time I arrived, Man Tham was already waiting by the window. She was younger than I had imagined. Her hair was styled in long, soft curls, her makeup was applied with delicate precision, and a thin, elegant diamond bracelet circled her wrist. I had seen that bracelet before. Three months ago, there had been a charge for jewelry on a secondary card statement. Thoi Vien Manh had dismissed it as a gift for a client. As soon as she spotted me, she offered a faint, expectant smile.

Mrs. Ha, you look much more haggard than you do in your pictures.

I took my seat without offering a reply. My friend, who was an attorney, sat beside me and placed her phone on the table. When Man Tham saw her, her smile faltered.

You brought a lawyer?

I looked her straight in the eyes. If you wanted to meet with me, I assumed you wanted to be sure I heard every word clearly.

Man Tham lifted her coffee cup, stirring it with agonizing slowness. Then I will speak plainly. Thoi Vien Manh and I have been together for over a year. He told me that he hasn't had any feelings for you for a long time. He said that the house and the car, both registered in your name, will eventually be split in half with him.

She reached into her bag, pulled out a stack of photos, and slid them across the table toward me. He said that once you finished giving birth, he would discuss the divorce with you.

I lowered my gaze to the photos. They showed Thoi Vien Manh embracing her in a hotel corridor. The date stamp was from the very night before I was admitted to the hospital to deliver my baby. Resting beneath the photos was a medical report. Man Tham placed a hand over her lower abdomen, her voice dropping to a gentle, taunting tone. Besides, I am pregnant.

The air conditioning in the shop was running at full blast, yet when she uttered those words, a cold sweat broke out across my back. My friend the lawyer reached out to steady my hand. She looked directly at Man Tham. Let us see the medical report.

Man Tham did not hand it over immediately. She seemed to be waiting for me to lose my composure, to shatter in front of her. But I did not cry, nor did I lash out. I simply stared into her eyes. How many weeks?

Her lips curved upward. Six weeks.

I nodded slowly. Then it has nothing to do with the night before I gave birth.

Her smile faltered, freezing in place. Perhaps she had not expected me to be so quick with the calendar. The lawyer took over. Ms. Tham, if you have come here today to provide evidence of infidelity during a marriage, we will accept it. But if you have come here simply to harass a new mother, then this meeting is over.

Man Tham’s expression darkened. She shoved the medical report toward us. I did not touch it; the lawyer simply took a photo of the document to record the date and contents. Man Tham glared at me. Don't you want to know what he said about you?

I replied, Nothing he says can change what he has done.

Man Tham let out a sharp, cold laugh. You are good at pretending, aren't you?

I looked up at her, my resolve hardening. I just finished giving birth; I don't have the energy to put on a show for you. If there is something you want, just say it.

She finally dropped the facade of victory. I want him to give me an explanation.

I nearly laughed out loud. You have come to the wrong person. You should go find him.

Man Tham bit her lip. He isn't answering my calls.

So, that was it. Thoi Vien Manh was not only afraid of me seeing her; he was terrified that she would cause a scene. She had believed that a few photographs and a medical report would be enough to force me to surrender my position. What she failed to realize was that I no longer wanted that position. I picked up my glass of water and took a sip. Man Tham, the business between you and him is not something I will resolve for you. But the messages you sent me and everything you have said today will be kept as evidence.

Her face paled. You are recording this?

The lawyer spoke with practiced calm. Recording in a public place to protect the legal rights and interests of my client is not against the law.

Man Tham stood up abruptly. Her chair screeched against the floor, a jarring sound that caused nearby patrons to turn and stare. She leaned in, lowering her voice. Ha Thanh Hoa, do you really think you have won? He once told me that no matter how much money you have, you are just a woman who is not loved by anyone.

The words stung, sinking into me for a brief second. But only for a second. I thought of the warmth of my daughter pressed against my chest. I thought of my mother’s trembling hands in the hospital lobby. I thought of the car filled with the suffocating smell of his cigarettes. I stood up slowly. Then you go find the person who loves you. Don't come looking for the woman who pays his bills.

Man Tham’s face flushed a deep, humiliated red. My friend and I left the cafe. As we reached the exit of the mall, Thoi Vien Manh called. I answered. His first words were, Have you met with Man Tham?

I glanced at my friend. She asked to meet.

His voice turned rigid. What nonsense did she tell you?

She said she is pregnant, I replied.

The line went deathly silent. After a few seconds, he spoke again. It might not be my child.

I closed my eyes. Even at this moment, his first instinct was not to deny the affair, but to scrub himself clean of responsibility. I asked, What about the hotel bills? What about the photos? What about the expense records from the past year?

His breathing became ragged. Thanh Hoa, let me explain.

I will listen, I said. I will listen in front of my lawyer.

I heard the distinct sound of a lighter clicking on the other end of the line. It seemed he had stepped outside. Do you really have to force me to leave with nothing?

Hearing that, I finally laughed.