Chapter 4 — The Second Proposal

Vuong Le Binh’s expression froze instantly, looking very much like she had just swallowed a fly. I kept my head down and continued sipping my soup, pretending not to notice her discomfort. Deep inside, however, a secret sense of satisfaction bubbled up. Through my own efforts, I had managed to find a delicate point of balance within this household. I no longer craved their recognition; I only sought the peace within my own heart. Luc Trach watched me, and for the first time, his gaze was devoid of the usual disgust or biting sarcasm. In its place was a searching look, a scrutiny I couldn't quite decipher. This agreement of ours had not become a chasm between us. On the contrary, it felt like a transparent wall, allowing us to stand at a safe distance and truly look at one another once again.

As Luc Trach’s health steadily improved, Vuong Le Binh’s schemes began to stir. She started frequently inviting a specific guest to the house: Lam Vi Vi. She was Luc Trach’s childhood sweetheart and the heiress of the Lam Corporation. The first time she arrived, I was in the living room, carefully pruning the Clivia lily that Luc Kien Quoc loved most. The door opened, and a woman dressed in a designer Chanel suit, her makeup applied with exquisite precision, stepped inside. She looked like a rose meticulously tended to in a greenhouse—beautiful and elegant, but lined with thorns. Vuong Le Binh rushed forward with enthusiasm, intimately linking arms with her.

“Vi Vi, you’ve finally come! I’ve missed you dearly.”

“Auntie Vuong,” Lam Vi Vi replied, her voice sweet and gentle. “The moment I heard Brother Trach had woken up, I caught the first flight back from abroad.”

Her eyes swept across the living room before coming to a sharp halt on me. Her gaze held an undisguised level of scrutiny and a clear current of hostility. “And who is this?”

She asked the question despite obviously knowing the answer. The smile on Vuong Le Binh’s face dimmed slightly as she offered a dismissive introduction. “Oh, she’s just… a helper in the house.”

She wouldn’t even acknowledge me as Luc Trach’s wife. I said nothing, offering Lam Vi Vi a simple nod before returning to my flowers. At the dinner table, the atmosphere was suffocatingly strange. Vuong Le Binh and Lam Vi Vi sat on either side of Luc Trach, chatting happily as if they were a perfect family unit. The two women constantly brought up amusing anecdotes from their childhood, deliberately cultivating an air of intimacy that was impossible for an outsider to penetrate.

“Trach, do you remember? When you were little, you loved following Vi Vi everywhere. Wherever she went, you were right behind her.”

“Brother Trach, have you forgotten? You even promised that when I grew up, you would marry me,” Lam Vi Vi added, her tone half-joking, though her eyes flicked toward me to gauge my reaction.

I remained silent throughout the meal, focused only on my food. I didn't interrupt. I didn't explain myself. It was as if their conversation belonged to another world entirely, one that had nothing to do with me. Luc Trach saw everything, yet he remained silent. Only his brow furrowed slightly—a movement so subtle it was almost imperceptible. After dinner, following my usual routine, I went to the kitchen to prepare dessert for everyone. As I emerged with the tray, Lam Vi Vi happened to be standing up at that exact moment. We collided.

“Ah!” she shrieked.

The tray in my hands tilted, and the bowl of hot soup instantly spilled over. Most of it splashed directly onto the back of my hand. A searing, burning sensation took hold immediately, and my skin turned a violent shade of red.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry!” Lam Vi Vi cried out, immediately feigning panic. “Miss Chu, are you alright? I didn't mean to.”

Apologies spilled from her mouth, but there was no trace of remorse in her eyes. Instead, I caught a fleeting glint of triumph. It was a clumsy, transparent performance that even a toddler could have seen through. Vuong Le Binh rushed over instantly. She didn't even glance at my scalded hand; instead, she went straight for the reprimand.

“What is wrong with you? You can’t even carry a tray properly! You’re so clumsy!” She grabbed Lam Vi Vi’s hands, checking her over with frantic concern. “Vi Vi, are you burned?”

“I’m fine, Auntie Vuong,” Lam Vi Vi shook her head, looking aggrieved. “But Miss Chu...”

Watching this display of "mother-daughter" affection, I only found it laughable. I said nothing. I set the tray down, turned, and walked back into the kitchen. I turned on the faucet, letting the stream of cold water rush over my throbbing hand. The sound of the splashing water drowned out the hollow words of concern coming from the living room. I looked at my own calm reflection in the mirror. My eyes were cold. Their performance was nothing more than a monologue, and I didn't even have the energy to be an audience member. These petty tricks couldn't hurt me. The person who truly disappointed me was Luc Trach. From beginning to end, he had sat on the sofa, watching coldly. Not a single question. Not a single word of concern. Perhaps in his heart, I really was nothing more than a servant.

The cold water continued to flow over the back of my hand. The pain subsided slightly, but the angry red patch only became more glaring. I turned off the tap and was about to find a clean towel when a figure appeared in the kitchen doorway. It was Luc Trach. I didn't know when he had followed me in, but he was leaning against the frame, watching me. He was silhouetted against the light, making it impossible to read his expression.

“Come here,” he said, his voice low.

I didn't move. He seemed to lose his patience slightly as he stepped forward and took hold of my wrist. His hand was dry and warm, encompassing my cold skin and bringing with it a strange, unfamiliar sensation. He led me out without another word, taking me straight to the first aid kit in the living room.

“Sit,” he commanded.

I obeyed, sitting down as I watched him rummage through the kit for burn ointment and bandages. His movements were a bit awkward; it was clear he wasn't used to doing such things. Vuong Le Binh and Lam Vi Vi followed us out, their faces turning into masks of unreadable frustration at the sight.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, it’s just a little bit of redness. A bit of water is enough, there's no need for all this drama,” Vuong Le Binh said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Chu Tuyet, really, you are so careless. It’s a miracle you didn't burn Vi Vi.”

She continued to twist the truth, turning white into black. I lowered my head, watching the focused profile of Luc Trach’s face as he worked, and I didn't offer a single word of protest.