Chapter 1 — The Fated Call

My husband returned from a two-week business trip, and the moment he stepped through the door, he began to reproach me for never calling him. I simply smiled and replied, "I did call. But your girlfriend was the one who picked up."

As he pulled his suitcase into the house, my husband tossed his bag onto the floor with a heavy thud, his face clouded with irritation. "I was away on business for fifteen days, and you didn't manage to call me even once. Do you even consider me your husband anymore?"

I remained seated on the sofa, took a slow sip of tea, and answered calmly, "I did call. Not just once, either. But the person who answered was your little girlfriend. And standing right next to her was your three-year-old son."

His arm, which had been mid-gesture, froze in mid-air. He stood as if turned to stone, his lips trembling, yet no words could escape them. I offered a faint smile and slowly pushed a prepared folder across the table toward him. The "gift" I had curated for him was finally ready to be unveiled.

Chu Khai Minh had returned. He dragged his suitcase inside and carelessly threw his bag down, the sound echoing sharply against the floorboards. "To Tinh!" he barked. "I was gone for fifteen full days. Fifteen days, and you didn't even bother to call. Is there any room for a husband in your heart at all?"

I remained composed on the sofa, lifting a cup of Longjing tea to my lips. It was slightly astringent at first, leaving a lingering, gentle sweetness. Setting the cup down, I looked directly into his face, which was flushed with indignation.

"I did call," I repeated. "I called."

Chu Khai Minh faltered. My reaction was clearly not what he had expected; he had likely braced himself for an argument or tears, not this chilling indifference.

"You really called?" he asked, raising his voice as if to drown out the sudden panic rising within him. "My phone is on twenty-four hours a day. How could I have not known?"

"Yes," I nodded. "I suppose you were busy."

I opened my call log and turned the screen toward him. "Nine-fifteen in the evening. Three days ago. The call lasted three minutes and twenty seconds."

His gaze locked onto the screen. It was the personal number he carried everywhere. His expression shifted instantly from anger to confusion, then to a deathly pallor.

"That's impossible!" he blurted out. "I was entertaining clients that night. My phone was on silent; I couldn't have received any calls."

"Is that so?" I pulled the phone back, my lips curving into a thin line. "But the call went through. The person who answered was your gentle girlfriend, Bach Nguyet. She even told me that you were in the shower."

This time, Chu Khai Minh’s arm went completely limp. He stood frozen, looking as if he had been struck by lightning. The living room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the rhythmic ticking of the wall clock—each pulse striking like a hammer against his chest. His face, once flushed, had drained of all color, leaving him ghostly white. His lips quivered. "What... what did you just say?"

He struggled to form an explanation, but his throat seemed constricted. I paid no mind, continuing with quiet detachment. "Oh, and one more thing. Before hanging up, I heard the voice of a child. Very young. He called out for his father. He sounded about three years old. What a coincidence."

Chu Khai Minh staggered backward, forced to lean against the shoe cabinet to keep from collapsing. Cold sweat broke out across his forehead. He looked at me as if I were a complete stranger. I let out a soft, calm laugh, then slid the kraft paper folder across the table.

"Look inside," I said. "A gift I prepared just for you. A gift to mark our five-year anniversary."

His hands shook uncontrollably as he stared at the folder, his eyes wide with a terror that suggested he already knew exactly what lay inside.

"To Tinh..." his voice was raspy, laced with a plea. "Let me explain first. There must be some kind of misunderstanding."

"Explain?" I cut him off, my voice steady. "Fine. But open it first. Read it, and then we shall talk."

Seeing that I would not yield, he slowly reached out to take the folder, his fingertips trembling. As he flipped open the first page, five large words stared back at him: DIVORCE SETTLEMENT AGREEMENT.

Upon seeing the word "divorce," he recoiled as if the paper had burned him, nearly dropping it to the floor. "Divorce?" He looked up at me, his face a mask of disbelief. "You want to divorce me? Over a simple misunderstanding?"

I did not answer, merely tilting my chin to signal him to continue. He took a ragged breath and turned to the next page. It contained a stack of photographs. In every single one, he was pictured with Bach Nguyet and a young boy. They were at an amusement park, dining in restaurants, and standing in front of an apartment building that I, his wife of five years, had never once stepped foot in.

The smiles on their faces were blindingly radiant. It looked like nothing less than a happy, complete family. Chu Khai Minh’s breathing became ragged and shallow, the weight of the evidence pressing down on him.