Chapter 5 — The Hand That Carves Sin

I looked toward the gallery, and the gaze of Director Luu, my husband's superior, had shifted entirely. Where there was once sympathy, there was now only suspicion and contempt. So that was it. This was the true purpose behind him bringing his boss today. He had not come to plead; he had come to perform. He wanted to splash a bucket of filth upon me that could never be washed away, branding me as an unfaithful wife. By doing so, his history of domestic violence would transform from a senseless, brutal assault into a justified reaction. In the eyes of others, he would become a victimized hero, a man deserving of pity. What a masterful stroke—pulling the firewood from beneath the cauldron. I looked at him, and suddenly, all my rage evaporated. I felt only an exhaustion so profound it seeped into my very marrow. Tangling with a man like this was akin to falling into a bog; the more one struggled, the deeper one sank, until finally, one was swallowed whole by the mire.

"To Hoan," Lawyer Vuong said, looking at me with undisguised concern.

I shook my head to signal I was fine. I sat back down, the tremors in my body finally subsiding. Looking directly at the judge, I spoke with calm resolve: "Your Honor, I do not consent to mediation. I am firm in my resolve to divorce and determined to gain custody of my child. Everything he has stated is a complete fabrication. If he can produce a single shred of substantive evidence, I am willing to walk away with nothing and forfeit my custody rights."

My composure seemed to catch Tran Da off guard. Perhaps he had expected me to collapse, to scream, and lash out in denial. But I did neither. I knew that arguing with a madman only dragged me down to his level. The judge looked from me to Tran Da, and finally declared, "Because there is a significant discrepancy between the parties regarding the facts of the case, and the defendant has introduced new allegations, the court proceedings will be adjourned to allow both sides time to submit further evidence. Court is adjourned."

The courtroom doors swung open, and I was the first to step out. I ignored the complex expressions of Tran Da and the superior standing behind him. Outside the courthouse, a light rain had begun to fall. The icy droplets stung my skin, yet I felt no chill. My heart was colder than the rain itself. I pulled out my phone and dialed the number for Old Truong. It rang for a long time before he answered; the background on his end was chaotic and loud.

"Hello, To Hoan? How did it go?" Old Truong’s voice was laced with urgent anxiety.

"Old Truong," I said, inhaling deeply. "I am sorry."

Silence stretched across the line. A few seconds later, his voice returned, sounding weary and raspy in a way I had never heard before.

"Did he... did he speak nonsense in the courtroom?"

My tears finally broke through, cascading down my face.

"He dragged you into this," I said, my voice choking.

On the other end, Old Truong let out a long, heavy sigh. Within that sound, I heard anger, helplessness, and the grim realization of a suspicion confirmed.

"I knew it," Old Truong murmured, his voice dropping low. "That animal is capable of anything. Do not be afraid, To Hoan. An upright tree does not fear the wind. If he wants to sling mud, he has to see if we are willing to catch it."

"But... your wife..." My greatest fear was that this would affect Old Truong’s home life.

"My wife has lived with me for thirty years. I know what kind of person she is, and she knows who I am," Old Truong said with unwavering conviction. "Do not concern yourself with these things. Protecting yourself and An An is what matters most. If you need anything, just say the word."

I ended the call and stood on the courthouse steps, allowing the freezing rain to drench my hair and clothes. Had I lost? Legally, today was merely a delay. But in the court of public opinion and human perception, I had already been defeated. Tran Da had successfully turned a domestic violence case into a scandalous, ambiguous tale of infidelity. He understood that people are always more eager to gossip about affairs than they are to condemn violence. A hero lashing out because his wife cheated on him is far easier to sympathize with than a husband who beats his wife for no reason. My phone buzzed—it was an unknown number. I swiped to answer.

"Is this Dr. To Hoan? I am a reporter from the XX news agency..."

I hung up immediately. Moments later, another unfamiliar number flashed on the screen.

"Is this Dr. To? We are from the media outlet XX; we would like to interview you regarding the divorce case between you and Mr. Tran Da..."

I hung up again and switched my phone to silent mode. How did they know my number? How could news travel this quickly? I looked up and saw several people across the street from the courthouse pointing their phones and cameras directly at me. Reporters. Tran Da had not only smeared me in the courtroom, he had summoned the press. He wanted to destroy me completely—not just my career, but my reputation as well. He wanted to grind me into the dust so that I could never hold my head up again. I pulled my collar tight, hiding my face in the shadows, and quickly crossed the street to hail a taxi. When I returned to the hospital, I was met by the strange, judgmental gazes of my colleagues.