Chapter 8 — Unfair Marriage

“I'm afraid I'll really go find a lawyer.

I'm afraid that one day I won't argue anymore, won't talk anymore... but will directly issue divorce papers." He stopped.

"I lived a very tiring life this half year. Not because of money... but because you didn't talk to me."

“Before, even though we argued, at least I still argued.

Now I don't argue, I don't make a fuss, everything is according to the rules."

“I just realized… when you're serious, it's scarier than anything.”

I said nothing. He took out his phone, opened the transfer history, and gave it to me. Six months, six times 2400. Total 14,400 yuan.

"The remaining 44,300, I will continue to pay. Not even a penny is missing you."

Having finished speaking, he smiled bitterly to himself.

"You see, now even if I apologize... I have to report the payment progress in advance, I'm afraid you'll think I'm trying to force my feelings."

I looked at him. For the first time, in the deadlock of this marriage... a very small gap appeared. Not because he speaks well. But because of these six months — He paid on time. Stop subsidies for Vu Phuong Anh. Tu Vu started making money on his own. He is changing. Slow, passive... but real change.

“From Tinh An.”

“58,700 yuan, you continue to pay monthly.”

“But there is something… you have to do now.”

“You say it.”

I looked at his phone.

“Open the chat box with your mother, send a message in front of me.”

"Tell her - Qi Niem's things are Qi Niem's, she can give them to whoever she wants. No one has the right to interfere in the future."

He held the phone, his finger hovering over the screen for a long time. I said nothing. This is a matter of principle. If he couldn't send that message... then all the changes between us were just a facade. One minute later. He typed, deleted, typed again, deleted again. Finally, he typed a paragraph, holding up his phone for me to see.

"Mom, Qi Niem's things belong to Qi Niem. How she wants to handle them is her right. Let's not interfere in the future. This is my husband and I's matter, I will handle it myself."

Message appears sent. Three seconds later, Vu Phuong Anh answered a question. Ten seconds later, the phone rang. Tu Tinh An looked at the screen flashing the word "Mom" and took a deep breath. India refused. Then put the phone face down on the table. I looked at the upside-down screen, which continued to light up, Vu Phuong Anh's profile picture kept appearing and disappearing. I reached out and pushed the completely cooled glass of filtered water towards him. He took it and took a sip. We sat across from each other at the dining table, no one said anything. It was dark outside. The streetlight turned on, the light bounced in, falling onto the white paper placed on the table. There's nothing up there. Empty. Unlike six months ago, it was full of numbers and terms. This time, he clearly did not come to “lay down the rules.” I stood up and walked to the kitchen door. Stop for a moment, don't turn around.

“What to eat tonight?”

Behind me, he paused for a few seconds.

“…I will eat whatever you cook.”

I walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Inside were two onions, a piece of meat, and a bag of flour. Enough to make a meal of dumplings… no, enough to wrap a pot of dumplings. Next to the knife rack on the cutting board, there's still the shopping list I wrote three months ago. Each item clearly states the price and date. I pulled the paper down, crumpled it up, and threw it in the trash.