Chapter 8 — The Call That Locked My In-Laws Out

A bag of breakfast items was slammed hard against the front door. My mother emerged from the bedroom. She had remained silent and uninvolved until now, but as she gazed at the tightly shut door, she spoke in a low, composed voice.

He did not come to apologize.

I nodded in agreement.

He came to demand money.

My mother sat down beside me. Then do not give him a cent.

The baby began to stir, her tiny face scrunched up as a soft, whimpering cry escaped her. I gathered her into my arms and held her against my chest. She settled almost immediately. As I bowed my head to look at her, a sudden sense of clarity washed over me—the chaos of the past few days had finally reached a threshold. At the very least, I could no longer allow this child to be drained and depleted alongside me.

At ten in the morning, the wedding of Manh Thoi An began to unravel. First, the photos of the wedding motorcade he had posted to his social media timeline were deleted. Shortly after, I received a friend request from a stranger. The note attached read: I am Lam Nha, the fiancee of Manh Thoi An. I accepted. She messaged me immediately: Sister-in-law, is the story about the car true?

I stared at the words, hesitating to reply. Seconds later, she sent another: He told me the Porsche was a spare vehicle belonging to your family, and that the wedding expenses were being shared between him and his older brother.

I replied: The car is my personal property, purchased before the marriage. The expenses were charged to my supplementary credit card, which has since been locked.

The other party remained silent for a long time. Then, she sent a screenshot. In the image, Manh Thoi An was telling her: My sister-in-law’s family is wealthy; eventually, the car and the house will belong to my brother. Once he manages his finances, he will buy you a small apartment.

Looking at the phrase "eventually, the car and the house will belong to my brother," the tightness in my chest finally dissipated. When a person reaches such a level of shamelessness, they are no longer worth getting angry over. I took screenshots of the financial statements related to the wedding and sent them to her: eighty thousand in gift money; sixteen thousand eight hundred for wedding photos; one hundred twenty-eight thousand at the jewelry center; deposits for the car procession; and the unpaid hotel balance. I did not add a single word.

Long after, Lam Nha finally replied: Sister-in-law, I understand.

At noon, Manh Thoi An called. I ignored it. But then Lam Nha sent me a video. In the footage, the area outside the banquet hall was in total disarray. The bride's relatives were surrounding the Manh family, demanding their money and questioning the status of the cars. Phung Le Binh’s face was beet-red, and she was still shouting that I was an unreasonable daughter-in-law. Then, Lam Nha’s father slammed a bank statement onto the table. "You Manh people are getting married, and you depend on the money of a woman who just gave birth to save face?"

At the end of the video, the camera shook. I heard the voice of Manh Thoi Vien: Did Ha Thanh Hoa send these things to everyone?

Immediately after, Lam Nha’s cold voice cut through: She didn't ruin the wedding. Your whole family turned a fraud into a wedding ceremony.

The final frame of the video settled on Lam Nha’s pale, frozen expression. I set the phone down and closed the application. The extent of the wedding's collapse was no longer my burden to carry. My mother sat opposite me, burping the baby. She glanced at me. Are you feeling softhearted?

I shook my head. I was softhearted before, which is why things reached this point.

The phone vibrated again. This time, it was a message from Lam Nha: Sister-in-law, my parents have already taken me away. I replied with two words: Take care. She quickly followed up: Keep all your evidence; they will not stop here. I stared at her words, my fingertips hovering over the screen. Lam Nha was more composed than I had imagined. She did not vent her anger on me, nor did she scramble to find a scapegoat for the cancelled wedding. She simply took the shortest amount of time to see the true nature of the Manh family.

Half an hour later, Phung Le Binh called. I did not answer. She switched to voice messages, one after another. I opened one and played it. Her voice was shrill and frantic. Ha Thanh Hoa, you have made the Manh family lose all sense of dignity! Now the Lam family wants to cancel the marriage and is demanding compensation for the banquet costs—are you satisfied? You just gave birth; how can you be so cruel?

I listened calmly, then saved the file. The next message was from Manh Thoi An. His voice was far raspier than it had been that morning. Sister-in-law, I truly didn't expect Lam Nha to cancel the wedding. I only wanted to put on a nice ceremony to save face. I will pay back the money eventually; can you help me explain things to her?

I did not reply. His "explanation" was nothing more than a request for me to help patch his lies. By three in the afternoon, Manh Thoi Vien finally sent a text: Let us meet. I answered: As long as there is a lawyer present, that is fine. He waited a long time before replying: Must we take things to this level between husband and wife?

I looked at the screen and laughed. Even now, he believed this was merely an act of defiance on my part. It seemed he felt that if I would only stop pursuing the matter, everything would return to the way it was. He would remain in my house, use my cards, and drive my car. His mother would continue to treat my money as the Manh family’s property. His younger brother would continue to treat my concessions as a matter of course. And I would continue to hold my child while footing the bill for their collective vanity. I did not reply. That evening, my lawyer friend sent me the formal notification draft I had requested.