Chapter 2 — Wedding's Off, Take the Dowry Back!

After that, he could rightfully say: "Look at that, the upbringing of the Ngu family is only worth this much. I simply refuse to do it." The whispering outside grew louder, no longer just murmurs but open mockery.

"It's been two hours already. This Ngu family... tsk, tsk."

"Seventy-two chests of dowry, and the silk ribbon on that jewelry chest is already peeling from the heat of the sun."

"If Chairman Ngu knew his daughter was being left to bake at the hotel entrance for two hours, he would probably be so angry he'd end up in the hospital."

"Even if he knew, what of it? The project has already started; there's no pulling out now. They just have to endure it."

Then came a particularly shrill voice, a woman's voice, high-pitched and laced with amusement: "Oh dear, it's not that CEO Pho doesn't want to open the door, there's just a guest inside. I heard Miss Lam came to CEO Pho's lounge this morning and still hasn't left."

Lam Vu Bach, Pho Tac Du's childhood sweetheart. Everyone in their social circle knew that Pho Tac Du only had eyes for her. If her father's company hadn't gone bankrupt, sinking under a mountain of debt and leaving her family's status no longer matching the Pho family, this marriage would never have fallen to me. In Pho Tac Du's eyes, I was merely an opportunist, a thief who had sneaked in to steal the position that rightfully belonged to her. Outside, I could hear Ah Duu trembling with rage, her teeth grinding together: "My lady..."

I didn't say a word. I was counting the time. From the moment the bridal car stopped, I had been counting every minute, every second in my heart. I had set a limit for myself: five hours. This was my ultimate boundary, not a minute more, not a second less. If he opened the door within five hours, I would step inside, and this marriage would proceed as planned—I would accept it. But if five hours passed and he still refused to open the door, then he could not blame me for what came next.

The fifth hour. The sun was beginning to sink into the west, yet the heat did not subside at all. Instead, it grew stiflingly humid, making it hard to breathe. Beneath my wedding gown, I was drenched in sweat; the dampness made the lace cling tightly to my skin, itchy and suffocating. The edge of my veil fluttered before my eyes, allowing me to see my own hands clenched tightly on my knees, my knuckles stark white, the skin beneath my fingernails bruised purple from the strain.

The crowd outside had stopped laughing; they had fallen silent. That silence was even more suffocating than their mockery. It was the kind of silence that settled when people had seen enough of the spectacle and began to feel pity. I did not need their pity. Ah Duu's voice was hoarse; she had likely been crying: "My lady, the family has called to ask three times already, and I've blocked them all. I beg of you, let us go home..."

"It is not time yet."

"My lady!"

"I said, it is not yet time."

I stared at the corner of a pearl brooch peeking out from my bag. That brooch was something my mother had worn on her own wedding day. Before she passed away, she had pressed it into my hand and whispered to me: "Thanh Nghien, I do not wish for your wealth or luxury; I only pray that your life will be smooth, and that you and your husband will live in harmony."

My mother had passed away early, and this brooch was the last thing she left me. Now, the surface of the pearl was smudged with my sweat, its luster clouded and blurred into a dull haze. I tried to wipe it clean with my thumb, but the smudge remained. The countdown to the fifth hour ticked away, second by second, in my head. The time was dwindling, slipping away faster and faster.

Then, I heard a voice filtering through the tightly shut main doors of the hotel. It was a woman's laughter, soft and laced with a coquettish whine: "Tac Du, are you really not going to welcome her? After all, this is an alliance arranged by both families. Leaving her out in the sun for too long doesn't look good."

Then came Pho Tac Du's voice, indifferent and even carrying a hint of amusement: "What's the rush? Let her wait a bit longer. What does a few hours of suffering matter to the Ngu family? If she can't even handle this little thing, she might as well pack up and go home early, saving her from being an eyesore to me in the Pho household. Once the wedding is over and the Ngu Group's funds enter our accounts, there will be plenty of ways to keep her and her family under my thumb."

Lam Vu Bach giggled again. "You really only know how to bully people."

From behind the door, the crisp clinking of coffee cups echoed. He had left me baking outside for nearly five hours, while he stayed inside in the air conditioning, sipping coffee with another woman. My hand froze. I stopped wiping. The moisture on the brooch had smeared completely, leaving a dull, pearlescent smudge. Looking at that greyish-white blur, a sudden wave of calm washed over me. I was far calmer than I could have ever imagined. There was no more pain, no more self-pity—nothing at all.

In my mind, I counted the very last second. Five hours. The time was up. Without a moment's hesitation, I ripped off my bridal veil. I folded the white tulle and placed it neatly on the car seat. The harsh sunlight outside stabbed at my eyes; I squinted for a brief second before opening them wide.

Ah Duu stood in a daze outside the car, her eyes swollen red like walnuts. Seeing me strip away the veil, her mouth fell open, unable to utter a single word. The onlookers also went quiet, every eye fixed on me. I stood up, the train of my wedding gown dragging across the car mat. Bending down, I gathered the heavy skirts of my dress and stepped firmly out of the bridal car.

The moment my feet touched the tiled square, the blistering heat radiated through the soles of my shoes, so hot that my toes curled in response. Yet, I stood perfectly straight. I swept my gaze over the scene. The long line of dowry chests stretched out under the blazing sun. The movers carrying the chests were huddled on the roadside; a few had suffered heatstroke and were desperately chugging from plastic water bottles. I took it all in. Then, I turned toward the main entrance of the hotel. The doors remained tightly closed, and the red "double happiness" character pasted on the glass was curling at the edges, warped by the heat.