Chapter 30 — The Onyx Bracelet Shatters, The Husband's Secret Is Also Revealed

After signing. I closed the file. The risk control director smiled.

"Thank you, General Manager Tham."

I nodded. Watching the new supplier representative leave the meeting room. In that moment. I suddenly remembered Luong Khai Hang. Remember the order of ninety-eight million yuan. Remember the times he assumed. Just have a relationship. Just need someone to back me up. Then the process can be skipped. But in the end. Things to keep orders. Not friendship. Not pressure. It's about capacity and rules. Perhaps that's what makes it the hardest for them to accept. That from start to finish. I never ruined their chances. They are the ones who destroyed it themselves. The case officially entered the final stage. Compensation amounts are determined in turn. Civil and related responsibilities are also handled according to regulations. The news is no longer as hot as before. Public opinion also began to follow new stories. Just like everyone says. The Internet forgets very quickly. But I don't need anyone to remember. Because of what needs to be done. I'm done. One evening. I work quite late. When leaving the company. The assistant gave me an envelope.

"Miss Tham."

"It was sent in the afternoon."

I take it. There is no sender's name on the outside. Only familiar handwriting. I opened the envelope. Inside is a very short piece of paper. It is Ha Nghien's handwriting. He only wrote one sentence.

"You were right that day."

"What you lost wasn't money."

"But for three years I truly wanted to spend the rest of my life with you."

No apologies. There is no holding back. There is no asking for forgiveness. There is only one such sentence. I finished reading. Fold the paper again. Then put it back in the envelope. No heartache. Not emotional either. Because of those words. He should have understood a long time ago. I walked out of the building. The night wind brings a bit of cold in early winter. The red agate bracelet on the wrist gently reflects under the light. I put it back on. Not to remember the marriage that ended. But to remember yourself. Remembering the mother who spent her last days protecting me. Remembering the woman who suffered for so long. And also to remember that. I walked away from it all. The car stopped at a red light. I looked at the flow of people passing by outside the window. The city is still bustling. Life still goes on. No one is the center of this world. The Ha family is not. Neither is the Luong family. Even the marriage that once caused me the most pain. After all, it's just a part of life's journey. The traffic light turns green. The car continued to roll. I look ahead. Smiling softly. Because this time. The path ahead is no longer the path arranged by others. It's the path I chose myself. On that road. The bracelet is still there. Memories still remain. Mom is always in my heart. There is only pain. Stayed behind. The room was very quiet. So quiet that I could hear the wind coming through the old wooden door frame. I could hear the scent of cinnamon flowers from the yard drifting in with the wind. Familiar. Like many years ago. I stood in front of my mother's old desk. On the table top. A copy of the divorce certificate. It is a progress report on the case. It's a ticket to restore an agate bracelet. Every single thing. These are all belated answers to the things she was worried about. I said softly:

"Mom, I'm home."

No one answered. Only There are cinnamon leaves in the yard gently shaking. But this time. I no longer feel lonely. Because I know. Things to say. Mom heard it all. I pulled out a chair and sat down. Gently stroke the table surface with your hand. The varnish is old. There is still a small scratch on the corner of the table. It was when I was thirteen years old. Spilled the inkstone and got scolded by my mother. That day I was still angry. For several days he refused to talk. Now remember. Just want to laugh again. Times are strange. It can turn things that once made people feel sorry for themselves into gentleness. It is also possible to turn things that were thought to be happiness into a lesson. I opened the velvet box. The two bracelets are next to each other. One intact. One has winding golden lines. Under the lights. Weld marks are not ugly. They create a very unique beauty. Not perfect. But authentic. Like life. There are wounds that don't need to be hidden. Because they prove that we have passed. And still standing. I took out the laminated card. Look at my mother's familiar words. Then smiled softly.

"I understand."

It's not today that I understand. But I finally really understand. The remaining bracelet. Not to wait for someone to appear. Not to prove who is worthy. Which is to remind me. That whether you give it to anyone or not. The most important thing. You still have to maintain yourself. A cinnamon flower petal fell down the steps. I stood up. The fragrance immediately rushed in. I walked out onto the field. Raise your head and look at the night sky. Clarity. Just like the road ahead. No one forced me to bow my head anymore. No one forced me to continue to be patient. There was no longer a dining table waiting for me to sit in the last position. I gently stroked the bracelet on my wrist. The yellow line reflects in the moonlight. Sparkling like a small river. I suddenly remembered the last sentence my mother left.

"If no one is sincere."

"Then keep both for yourself."

I laughed. Responding softly in the darkness:

"But it's not because I lack anyone."

"But because I found myself again."

The night wind blew again. Cinnamon leaves rustle gently. The bracelet lightly touches the wrist. And for the first time in many years. I no longer feel like I'm living the rest of a story. Which is starting a new story. A story that belongs to me. Lawyer Dieu looked at the bracelet on my wrist. Then nodded slightly. I smiled.

"Before, I always regretted that crack."

"Not now."

Because I understand. What makes an item valuable. Not because it has never been damaged. But after damage. It's still there. Still intact in its own way. That night. I stood in front of the apartment window in Duyet Giang Phu. Look at the lights stretching in the distance. The light outside the door has been repaired. Pale yellow light covered the path. Not too flashy. But enough for people returning to see the road clearly. I suddenly remembered many years ago. When I was young. Every time I finish school late. Mom turned on the porch light. She once said:

"It doesn't need to be the brightest."

"As long as you can see it."

I didn't understand that day. Only later will we know. There are people in life. Like a lamp. Not to help me move on. But to remind myself that there is always a place to return to. Mom is like that. The bracelet is the same. I reached out and touched it lightly Golden line on wrist. The welds sparkled under the light. Do not hide cracks. Nor deny their existence. Just quietly present. As part of the story. Part of myself. The phone on the table vibrated. It's a message from the assistant. There's a board meeting tomorrow. There is a new project. There is a report that needs to be signed. There is a lot of work waiting. I finished reading. One-word answer: Then put the phone down. No more calls in the middle of the night. No more suffocating meals. No more blame forcing me to make sacrifices. Life doesn't turn out perfect. But in the end. It has returned to its original position. Outside the window. The night wind blew softly. Bring along the sound of rustling leaves. Just like that day in the courtyard. Like a gentle hand stroking my hair. I gently closed my eyes. Look at the light reflecting on the glass window. And for the first time in many years. I no longer think about the people who have left my life. I think about tomorrow. About work. About the places I want to go. About what I want to do. About myself. The bracelet is still on the wrist. Reminds me of something. I was broken. I have been in pain. I have been through the darkest days. But in the end. I will not become broken pieces lying on the ground. I became the one to pick them up. Assembled by hand. Stand up for yourself. And keep moving forward. Not as anyone's wife. Whose daughter-in-law? Or whose heir. It's me. A woman learned that: Bowing your head is to clearly see the road under your feet. Raising your head means continuing to move forward. And from now on. That road. It will be my own choice.