Chapter 4 — The Hand That Carves Sin

"This is the testimony from the kindergarten teacher where the child is enrolled, proving that for the past three years, the only person to participate in all parent-child activities has been the mother, To Hoan."

"This is a collection of excerpts from the residential complex security cameras, capturing multiple instances of the defendant returning home in a drunken stupor late at night, along with blurred images showing the defendant physically assaulting the plaintiff."

Finally, Lawyer Vuong produced a stack of photographs. They depicted the old injuries on my body—bruises on my arms and back that had long since faded. These were photos I had secretly taken after each beating. I had never imagined a day would come when I would need to use them; they were merely private records kept in moments of utter despair.

Domestic violence is never a singular, accidental lapse in control, but a prolonged behavioral pattern. We have every reason to believe that a person incapable of regulating their emotions, a person who could commit such cruel violence against their wife, is fundamentally incapable of providing a child with a safe and healthy environment in which to grow.

Lawyer Vuong’s voice rang out, strong and resolute. I watched as Tran Da’s complexion turned a sickly shade of gray. Perhaps he had not expected that someone as quiet and submissive as I had been would have saved so much evidence. The judge’s expression grew increasingly stern, his eyes fixed sharply upon Tran Da.

"Defendant, do you have any explanation for the evidence submitted by the plaintiff?"

Tran Da’s lips twitched. His lawyer attempted to interject on his behalf, but was silenced by a single look from him. He stood up, squaring his shoulders.

"Your Honor, I admit that I hit her."

He had admitted it. But his next words plunged the entire courtroom into a bizarre, suffocating silence.

"However," he said, taking a deep breath and sweeping his gaze over me with tragic defiance, "it is because I discovered she was having an illicit affair with the department head."

In that moment, I felt the blood in my entire body turn to ice.

I could not believe what I was hearing. A high-pitched ringing echoed in my mind, and the world fell silent, save for the rhythmic opening and closing of Tran Da’s mouth. What was he saying? Me and Old Truong? Old Truong was a college friend, a mentor, a comrade, and, above all, my benefactor. He was ten years my senior, and his own children were already in university. The relationship between us was purer than distilled water in a hospital. How could he dare? How could he?

"You are lying!" I stood up abruptly, trembling so violently from agitation that I could barely maintain my footing.

Tran Da looked at me, his eyes devoid of any remorse, carrying instead a cold, twisted sense of glee. It seemed that dragging me into the mud provided him with some sort of sick satisfaction.

"I am lying?" He gave a cold laugh. "Then why did he come to pick you up in the middle of the night? Why did he look after you day and night while you were hospitalized? Why did he find you a lawyer and help you file this lawsuit? To Hoan, do you dare say there is nothing between you two?"

Every one of his accusations felt like a bucket of filth dumped over my head. I was shaking with cold fury. He was distorting the righteousness and kindness of Old Truong into a filthy affair. He did not just want to destroy me; he wanted to destroy everyone who had ever offered me a helping hand.

"Tran Da!" I stared directly at him. "You are truly not a human being!"

Order! Keep order! The judge struck his gavel.

Lawyer Vuong rose immediately. "Your Honor, the defendant’s statements are pure slander, a personal attack devoid of any evidence, intended solely to distract and interfere with the judicial process. I request that the court put an end to this behavior."

Tran Da’s lawyer immediately countered, "Objection! My client’s statement serves to explain the reason behind his loss of emotional control. It was precisely because of his deep suffering and indignation at his wife’s betrayal that he lost control that night. This only serves to prove that my client held deep affection for this marriage."

Deep affection? Hearing those words made my stomach churn; I felt nauseous, to the point of wanting to vomit. This was the first time I had truly seen the absolute lack of boundaries within Tran Da. He had no bottom line. To win, to pull himself out of the mire of being a batterer, he would stop at nothing; he would drag anyone down with him. The judge frowned deeply, clearly troubled by this sudden injection of scandalous rumors into the case.

"Defendant, is there any evidence to support these claims?" the judge asked.

"Evidence?" Tran Da laughed. The smile held a trace of self-mockery and sorrow, performed with the skill of a victim betrayed by the entire world. "Your Honor, what man would set out to collect evidence of his wife’s infidelity? Would that not be like stabbing himself in the heart over and over again? I loved her, so I chose to trust her, choosing to forgive her again and again. Until that night, when I had too much to drink, and my emotions boiled over, leading me to... to make a terrible mistake."

He spoke with such profound sincerity and agony.