Chapter 22 — Three Keys, One Broken Marriage

“The old man nodded and then shook his head again.”

"I stood from afar watching but felt very uncomfortable inside."

I leaned against the railing, my fingertips gently rubbing the cold metal.

“Thank you for telling me.”

I replied softly.

“Don't think too much.”

Aunt Luu on the other end of the phone sighed.

"That person, when he was young, he thought that he would have many opportunities to make up for it later."

“But it's really time to make up for it…”

“There are many things that cannot be returned anymore.”

“You just live your life well over there.”

“Don't carry too much burden.”

The call ended. The river wind blew past, bringing with it cold, damp air. I slightly curled my shoulders, pulling my jacket a little tighter. Suddenly remembered what the policeman said that day at the police station.

“The law is not to help you win or lose.”

“It's just telling you…”

“What is worthy of protection?”

I bowed my head and looked at my hands. These hands used to clean, arrange, and meticulously choose each decoration for that house. I also used to hold a rag and a mop, over and over again erasing the traces left behind by others. And now... They hold brushes. Keyboard typing. In a new city, rebuilding my personal life little by little. I suddenly realized... There are some things I no longer need. For example, the phrase "we are all one family" used to hang in our mouths. For example, a man always says "I don't know". For example, my husband's parents always think that I "don't know how to raise a family". Out on the river, a yacht slowly passed by. The deck is full of small string lights. There was someone at the head of the boat taking pictures, vague laughter echoed on the wind. I turned around and slowly walked along the riverbank. The sound of shoes echoed softly in the night. At the end of the year, the company holds a summary meeting. The director personally called out the names of several outstanding project leaders on stage. Including me. After the meeting, he called me aside.

“She adapted quite well in Hangzhou.”

“After Tet, the company plans to establish a team specializing in smart home design.”

“I want you to lead the team.”

“Do you want to accept it?”

"I agree."

I almost don't have to think.

“Then prepare well.”

The director laughed.

“At that time, we will assign you two new employees.”

Returning to my desk, I opened my mailbox. There is an unread email. The sender is a strange address. The title only has my name. Inside there are only a few short lines.

“Lam Y, the house has been completely transferred.”

“After moving in, I repainted the walls, but still kept the small pictures you pasted.”

“Sometimes I sit and look at them for a long time.”

“I keep feeling like I'm going to push the door open and grumble: 'You forgot to turn off the light.'”

“But I know…”

“I won't come back anymore.”

“The day you left the civil affairs department, I stood outside the door watching you get into the car.”

“At that time I wanted to call you back.”

“I want you to turn around and look at me once.”

“But you opened your mouth…”

“But I can't say a word.”

“You will understand later.”

“What I miss…”

“It wasn't just that moment.”

“But many, many moments before.”

“I don't ask you to forgive me.”

“Just wanted to say thank you.”

"Thank you for contributing money to buy that house with me that year."

“Thank you for trying so hard to turn it into a home.”

“It will only be your home.”

“I can rest assured.”

“Lin Xuyen.”

At the end of the email, two photos are attached. One is the living room. On the sofa is spread a light gray blanket. On the tea table there is a vase of flowers. The abstract painting I painted myself in the past still hangs on the wall. The remaining panel is the office. The table has been tidied up. Computers, drawing boards, and notebooks are all neatly arranged. On the wall there is a small bookshelf, containing a few books I once bought but haven't read yet. The curtains were slightly open. Sunlight slantedly fell into the room. In that halo of light, tiny dust quietly flew. I looked at two photos. There were no waves in my heart. It is a space that is both familiar and strange. Because it used to be a place where I built up every bit of it myself. Because that place no longer has my life. I turned off email. No reply. On the last day of the year, the company held a New Year's Eve party. Most colleagues flocked to the bar. Some people who don't like to be crowded sit on the terrace below the company, gathering around the charcoal stove to grill meat. I sat with everyone until after eleven o'clock and then asked permission to leave first. Back to the apartment alone. I video called my parents. On the other end of the line is a familiar living room from home. Old sofa. Old TV. Everything is still the same as the day I left.

“Is it cold out there?”

Mom looked at me through the screen, her voice filled with worry.

“It's okay.”

“Hangzhou is much warmer than my hometown.”

“This year, don't run back and forth anymore.”

Dad sitting next to mom spoke up.

“You can just spend Tet there, Mom and Dad can stay here.”

"Wait until you're no longer busy. If you want to go home, then go home."

After cutting off the video, I sent Trieu Vu a message.

"Happy New Year."

A moment later, he answered.

"Happy New Year."

“Are you familiar with Hangzhou?”

“I'm used to it.”

“That's good.”

I was originally going to say something more. But in the end it was deleted. The phone screen automatically turns off. In the room, there was only the glow of fireworks coming in from the window. The New Year's Eve bell hasn't rung yet. But the sky in the distance was gradually dyed with colorful dots of light. I stood by the window, watching fireworks soar from the other side of the river. Then disappear. Those lights only exist for a very short moment in the sky. But as soon as one beam disappears… There will be another beam flying up. One bunch after another. I suddenly realized... Human life is probably the same. Some things will disappear. There are people who will leave. But as long as you want to move on... The next light will eventually appear. The next morning, I woke up very early. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, drawing a long thin streak of light on the floor. I stretched, got out of bed, boiled water, and made myself a cup of coffee. The scent of coffee spreads throughout the small kitchen. I leaned against the window and took a sip. The heat floated up, gently covering my face. I took out my phone, opened the notes section, and started writing plans for the new year.

“Completed three major projects.”

“Train at least one person who can work independently.”

“Learn to drive.”

“Let's go see the sea once.”

I thought for a bit and then wrote another line.

“Only give the key to someone who is truly trustworthy.”

After writing it, I even laughed. There was no longer any self-mockery in that smile like before. Just a little bit of relief. At this moment, I understand very clearly. I no longer need to turn my home into a "free motel" to protest against other people's intrusion. There's also no need to stare at a surveillance camera to prove it His boundaries have been trampled. I walked out that door. And enter another door that belongs to yourself. Behind that door is the path I chose. What is the end of the road... I don't know. Maybe work is busier. Projects are more difficult. It could also be that the right person appears at the right time. Or I'm simply alone, carrying a drawing board and laptop, wandering between different cities. But whatever it is... I'm not afraid anymore. Because I finally learned that— A key… Should not be in the palm of your hand that anyone can reach at random. It should be held tightly in one's own hand. I lowered my head to look at the hand holding the coffee cup. Joints are clear. Fingertips are a bit thin. This is the only thing I can truly rely on. I raised my head and looked out the window. Sunlight gradually covered the opposite buildings. The city has woken up. The stream of cars began to move. Far away on the river, a cargo ship slowly passed by. I turned back to my desk and opened my laptop. The screen lights up. The new project folder sits there quietly, waiting for me to open it. I put my hand on the mouse. Fingertips gently press. A new page… Opened.