Chapter 1 — When He Chose Her

After my divorce, my best friend wanted to move into my home to heal her broken heart. I clung to my boyfriend’s arm, smiling sweetly:

"That wouldn't work. If you happened to hear sounds you weren't meant to, I’d die of embarrassment."

My boyfriend caught a glimpse of my friend’s frail silhouette—the way she swayed as if about to collapse—and a flicker of heartache crossed his eyes before vanishing. He turned his head and scolded me sternly:

"Don't talk nonsense."

As I pouted, feigning injury, my best friend spoke up with gentle grace to defend me:

"It’s alright. I’ll just have to bother you another time."

However, returning home early from a business trip, I spotted a strange dress hanging on the communal laundry rack downstairs. It was identical to one owned by my best friend, Kieu Nguyet. I took out my phone, ready to share the discovery with her:

"Someone in our building is wearing the exact same dress as you! Who has such similar taste to our darling Kieu?"

Before I could hit send, our neighbor, Mrs. Tran, asked:

"Lawyer Tu, why hasn't that dress been taken in yet? Your husband hung it there himself last night."

My fingertips went rigid. From not far away, a familiar voice drifted over.

"Xan, weren't you supposed to return only tonight? If the dress is left here, will she see it?"

Chu Tu reached out to pull Kieu Nguyet’s coat tighter, his tone so tender it felt foreign.

"Her flight isn't landing for a while yet. I'll take it in before she arrives."

"And you, don't catch a cold on your way back."

Watching him shield Kieu Nguyet, I finally understood the meaning behind his words: "Nguyet is divorced, we must take good care of her." Apparently, "taking good care of her" extended all the way to the bedroom. After thanking Mrs. Tran, I calmly retrieved the dress and walked toward them.

01

When Chu Tu saw me, the smile on his face froze, and he instinctively reached out to grab the dress. I gripped it tighter, refusing to let go. Kieu Nguyet rushed to explain:

"Xan, please don't misunderstand."

"My ex-husband has been stalking me lately, even waiting under my building at midnight. I was truly terrified, so I came to Chu Tu for help."

"The clothes got wet by accident last night. Chu Tu was worried I’d catch a cold, so he helped me wash and hang them up."

Kieu Nguyet reached out to take the dress from me. But as she moved, a sleeve slipped out from her coat—it was Chu Tu’s shirt. It was a birthday gift I had given him our first year of marriage. Embroidered on the inside of the cuff was a tiny "Xan." Back then, he had teased me for being childish, pretending to hate it, only to wear it to court the very next day. When he returned, he lifted me onto the shoe cabinet in the entryway and kissed me, saying, "We won. Mrs. Tu’s shirt is quite powerful." Kieu Nguyet’s wrist jerked back, quickly tucking the sleeve away. Chu Tu saw it too, and when he looked back at me, his eyes were clearly filled with panic.

"Xan, I just told her to grab any jacket from the closet. I didn't know she picked this one."

"So she slept in our bedroom last night?"

Chu Tu’s expression hardened, and he remained silent. The fabric of the dress, pressed against my hand by the wind, felt cold. I looked down, thinking how ridiculous I looked clutching it. I tossed the dress back into Chu Tu’s arms. Before the hem had even settled, Kieu Nguyet instinctively ducked behind him. Chu Tu’s expression darkened, and he reflexively pulled her behind him to protect her.

"Xan, if you have any issues, take them out on me."

"This was my fault. Don't hurt Little Nguyet."

Realizing his voice had been too harsh, he reached out to take my hand.

"You just got back from your trip. Go upstairs and rest."

"We’ll talk after you’ve calmed down."

I pulled away, leaving his hand suspended in mid-air. Kieu Nguyet whispered, "Chu Tu, I can make it home myself. Don't let me be the reason Xan feels even worse." He looked at me for a moment before turning his eyes away.

"It’s not safe for her to go alone. I’ll take her home first."

I watched him turn to leave:

"Chu Tu, if you walk away today, we are finished."

His footsteps faltered, but Kieu Nguyet let out a soft cough. His fingers curled at his sides, and he said in a low voice:

"Don't throw a tantrum over divorce. I'll be right back."

The words "don't go" choked in my throat, sour and painful. But in the end, I didn't say them. He was already walking toward someone else. Holding on would only make me look more pathetic. I dragged my suitcase upstairs. Before my key could even touch the lock, the delivery courier called out to me.

"Are you Ms. Tu Xan?"

"The ring Mr. Chu sent for maintenance has arrived today."

I stood stunned, opening the box. Our wedding rings sat there, quiet and cold. On the inside were engraved the initials of our names. On our wedding day, Chu Tu had placed the ring on my finger and said:

"Before every anniversary from now on, I will take it for maintenance."

Back then, I had teased him for being meticulous, and he had leaned down to kiss my fingers.

"If you complain about this little bit of trouble, how will I take good care of you in the future?"

For three years, he had never once forgotten. I gently wiped the surface of the ring, and the sunlight catching it was blinding. It looked exactly as it had on our wedding day. But the courier hadn't left; he was busy digging through his bag.

"There’s one more thing. Mr. Chu ordered this at the same time."

When I opened the package, I saw a note attached to the pharmacy receipt.

"Urgent. Deliver as fast as possible."

Inside the paper bag, a box of pills slid into my palm. My gaze drifted downward.

"Emergency contraceptive."

I looked at the two items in my hands. It felt like a sick joke.

02

Before I could even sign for the delivery, the courier checked his phone.

"Apologies, Mr. Chu just changed the delivery address."

I handed both the wedding rings and the box of pills back to him.

"Thank you for your trouble."

As soon as the door closed, I didn't even bother changing my shoes; I opened the smart lock’s history. At 7:47 PM last night, Kieu Nguyet had entered my home. I scrolled back further. One week ago, half a month ago, three months ago. Almost every time I went on a business trip, she had visited. The earliest entry went back to last winter. That day, I had been running a fever of 102 degrees, slumped over the office sofa, calling Chu Tu to ask if he could pick me up. He had said he was meeting clients and couldn't make it. Fearing he would worry, I had even consoled him.

"It's fine, I'll take a taxi."

But that very day, he had brought Kieu Nguyet home. I took screenshots of every entry, saving and backing them up. It felt just like organizing divorce files for my clients. I used to never understand why women would cry until they were speechless. The evidence was right in front of them—why did they need to confirm it over and over, collapsing each time? Now I knew. It wasn't that people couldn't understand the evidence. It was that they were desperate to find excuses for the person they loved. They would rather lie to themselves than admit the truth. Once the folder was created, I couldn't hold on anymore, collapsing onto my desk in tears. The lock clicked, and I instantly wiped my eyes, folding the laptop shut. Chu Tu stood in the entryway, carrying the cake I loved best. He walked over, squatting down before me just as he used to, reaching out to grip my ankles.

"Why aren't you wearing your slippers? The floor is cold; you never remember."

The first year we were married, I had worked until dawn, barefoot on the office floor searching for documents. He had squatted down exactly like this, frowning as he put my shoes on me. He would grumble about me being a nuisance, but his touch was impossibly gentle.

"Xan, I lost my judgment last night. I was wrong."

"I know you care about her entering our bedroom, and I know I shouldn't have let her wear that shirt."

"There won't be a next time, alright?"

I knew clearly that he was lying to me. But the sight of him squatting there, putting my shoes on, was still exactly the same as it once was. In that moment, my heart ached with bitterness. It turns out that a person is at their most pathetic not when they are being lied to, but when they know they are being lied to, yet still find themselves softening because of a shred of old tenderness. While Chu Tu went to get some water, my phone chimed. It was a notification from Kieu Nguyet. I had never turned off her special alerts; back when she first divorced, I was terrified she might do something rash or that I might miss a cry for help. I opened her social media feed.

"Thanks, Tu. Finally managed to make my ex-husband lose all hope."

In the attached photo, she was wearing my wedding ring. The edge of the picture showed half of Chu Tu’s wrist. A mutual friend had already commented: Congratulations. Kieu Nguyet didn't explain, nor did she delete it. She simply "liked" the comment. I stared at the photo and suddenly burst into laughter. I used to be so afraid she had no one to lean on. Now I understood—she had never lacked a pillar. It was just that the person she chose to lean on happened to be my husband. Chu Tu’s face changed, and he reached out to grab my phone.

"Xan, Little Nguyet just wanted to make her ex-husband lose hope."

"The ring was just borrowed temporarily. I didn't think too much of it."

I turned off the screen.

"Chu Tu, I'll send you the divorce agreement tomorrow."

He stood stunned. The water in the cup sloshed over, spilling onto the back of his hand. He didn't seem to feel it, only watching as I dragged my suitcase toward the door.

"Just because of a social media post?"

"Xan, stop acting out. We aren't children anymore."

I stopped at the entrance and looked back at him.

"You're right. We aren't children anymore. So, nine o'clock tomorrow morning, meet me at the law firm."

"The house, the firm we founded together, the client lists—everything that needs to be divided, we will settle clearly."

Chu Tu scoffed.

"Fine. I’ll be waiting at the firm tomorrow afternoon."

"Tu Xan, I hope you’re truly prepared to let go."

03

The next morning, I arrived at the office on time, intending to finish a client's case first. The receptionist, Dinh Dinh, saw me and whispered:

"Boss Chu just arrived... carrying your best friend."

"Her ex-husband came to harass her again today. Boss Chu said she was terrified."

She was nestled in my husband's arms, covered by a blanket that belonged to me. Hearing the door, Chu Tu looked up, his brows furrowing instantly.

"Tu Xan, are you satisfied now?"

I stood in the doorway, motionless.

"Satisfied with what?"

He picked up a shirt from the sofa and threw it at me. The white cuff flipped open, and that tiny "Xan" embroidery faced me.

"It’s all because Little Nguyet wanted to return your clothes that she was followed and harassed by her ex."

"She’s already scared to death. How much longer are you going to keep this tantrum going?"

I suddenly laughed, reaching for the scissors on the table. With a few swift cuts, the fabric tore apart. Chu Tu’s face turned pale, and he reached out to grab it back: "Xan, stop!" I evaded him, the final snip severing the embroidery completely. The scraps of fabric fell onto his face before sliding off his shoulder. I looked at him: "This is your shirt. Why are you returning it to me?" Chu Tu stood frozen, his eyes finally revealing a look of genuine panic. The next second, a commotion erupted outside. Chuong Vu stormed in, his eyes bloodshot, pointing a finger at Kieu Nguyet.

"Kieu Nguyet, give me back my money!"