Chapter 8 — The Divorce ATM

Legally speaking, that is marital property.

He leaned against the wall, his shoulders slumped. Co Niem, you are being incredibly cruel.

I looked at him, my expression cold. You think I am cruel? When I suffered a miscarriage, you went to the third floor to listen to the heartbeat of another woman’s child—is that not cruel? I saved money for three months to buy a plane ticket, and you gave it to her to use—is that not cruel? You called me a walking ATM—is that not cruel? Your mother called me a temporary placeholder—is that not cruel? You forged documents to leave me with nothing—is that not cruel? And today, you wanted to sign over our home to her—is that not cruel?

He stood frozen, unable to utter a single word. My phone rang; it was Phuong Vien.

I have some news.

What is it?

Tham Dao moved out of Thuy Dinh Uyen yesterday.

That quickly?

The moment she heard the house would be subject to division, she packed up everything. She called a moving service to haul her luggage away. Before she left, she had a massive blowout with Chau Dien.

What were they arguing about?

She accused him of deceiving her. She claimed she was told that you and he were only married in name and had been separated for a long time. She swore she had no idea you two were still living together as a normal couple.

I let out a dry, mirthless laugh. So, she was deceived as well?

It is hard to say. When she took those two hundred and eighty thousand, she certainly did not ask where the money came from. But at least regarding this supposed separation, she genuinely believed it.

He lied to everyone, I said quietly.

He did, Phuong Vien agreed. There is one more thing. Before she left, Tham Dao demanded that he pay her back the two hundred and eighty thousand. She claimed she deserved it.

Did he pay her?

With what money? Both houses have been frozen by the court.

I said nothing more and ended the call. Later that afternoon, my mother-in-law called.

Niem Niem…

Her voice was entirely different from the last time we spoke. There was no screaming, no accusations, no arrogant, self-righteous indignation. Her voice was trembling.

Dien is… he truly has nothing left now?

This is the path he chose for himself, I replied.

Could you… perhaps lower the amount a little? Six hundred thousand is simply too much…

Mother.

I spoke with a finality that made the word hang heavy in the air. This is the last time. Truly the last time. In our family group chat, you once said something.

She remained silent.

You said: Buy something nice for little Tham, do not let her feel shortchanged.

Silence stretched between us.

For three years, you never once said: Do not let Niem Niem feel shortchanged.

Niem…

You told me to save money. You told me to cook, to work overtime to stash away funds, and to bear everything alone after I lost my child. Then, you took the money I had scraped together and bought a house for her. Now, you are asking me to demand less. Tell me, who is the one that should have been spared this suffering?

The line went dead.

I will not accept a single penny less, I whispered, then hung up and blocked her number.

Two weeks later, I received a call from Phuong Vien. He signed the papers.

On what conditions?

He accepted every one of your terms.

Including the two hundred and eighty thousand?

Paid in installments over a year and a half, with interest calculated exactly as you demanded.

What about the house?

The property you shared will be divided according to your respective capital contributions. You are entitled to five hundred and twenty thousand in equity.

And Thuy Dinh Uyen?

The court ruled it as common property acquired during the marriage. He chose to sell it. You receive fifty percent. After settling the outstanding loan, you will receive six hundred thousand, paid out over two years.

And the forged documents?

The court issued a stern warning. During the division of assets, it was treated as a prejudicial factor, significantly damaging his position.

I did the math. Five hundred and twenty thousand. Six hundred thousand. Two hundred and eighty thousand. Eighty thousand for emotional damages. A total of one million four hundred and eighty thousand. Three years ago, I entered this marriage with four hundred and fifty thousand. Three years later, I walked away with over one million.

What about Tham Dao? I asked.

She went back to her hometown. For good.

Did she realize she was being played?

She did. In her final phone call with Chau Dien, she told him: You lied to everyone, including yourself.

I offered no comment. She was right. The day the divorce was finalized, Chau Dien blocked my path at the entrance of the Civil Registry.

Co Niem.

Yes?

I am… I truly regret everything.

I looked at him. Last year, when you wanted to cut ties with Tham Dao, it only took one word from your mother to pull you back.

He stared at me, stunned.

It is not that you did not know right from wrong, I said. It is that you lacked the strength to choose what was right.

His eyes reddened. Co Niem…

Your regret is not for the betrayal, I continued. You only regret that you were caught.

He lowered his head, unable to speak. I turned and walked away, never looking back.

A month later, I moved into my new apartment. I had purchased it, not rented it. I used a portion of the settlement to pay the down payment. Two bedrooms, one living room, facing the sun. On the deed, there was only one name: Co Niem. Whose name you write on a home is a matter of profound importance.

On the day I moved in, my phone rang. An unfamiliar number. I answered.

Co Niem.

It was Chau Dien. He had changed his number.

Yes?

Thuy Dinh Uyen has been sold. Tham Dao is gone. My mother has returned to the countryside.

Yes.

I am living alone now. In a rental.

Yes.

There was a long silence.

I truly did love you once, he said. His voice was very low, not like a plea for reconciliation, but like someone trying to confirm a fact he no longer believed himself.

I thought for a moment. Perhaps. But the fact that you once loved me did not help you make a single right choice.

He did not reply.

You loved me once, I added, before you finally decided to replace me.