Chapter 17 — When the Ex Returns

Aunt Pho says that since you have been here long enough, it is time to return. She is getting on in years, and living alone is inconvenient for her in many ways. As for the matchmaking, she will no longer pressure you.

Pho Tu Tham shook his head, his eyes clouded with an inescapable loneliness.

I understand. Thank you.

Lam Thoi Ha did not probe further. As she turned to leave, a voice drifted to her ears.

Thoi Ha, if I had not been blinded by the weight of my past life back then, would we still have had a chance?

Lam Thoi Ha did not pause, her voice lighter than the passing breeze.

There is no such thing as if in this world.

That single sentence provided the answer—an answer Pho Tu Tham knew clearly, yet stubbornly insisted on asking. He watched her depart, just as he had countless times in the past. She left without a flicker of lingering attachment. More than half a year after she departed, Pho Tu Tham was accidentally wounded during a counter-espionage operation at the border. Due to the severity of his injuries, he was forced into early retirement from the military. On the day of his return, he saw many people waiting at the station, including his mother, whose hair had turned half-white, and many of his former comrades. Tears welled in his eyes, and from then on, he resided in Bac Thanh. His life after retirement became remarkably simple. Aside from meals, he spent his days in his study, a room filled with countless books. The only personal item of note was a locked drawer. In the dead of night, he would open it, for that drawer held a deeper, more painful significance. Inside lay the gifts he had intended to bring to Moscow years ago but never had the chance to present. At the very top rested a yellowing, faded photograph. Every time he traced the blurred profile of the two people in the image, he wept. In those moments, his eyes held a bottomless depth of sorrow and regret. A sincere heart had once been placed before him, but not only had he failed to cherish it, he had destroyed it with his own hands. In the end, he spent the better part of his life mourning that lost sincerity.

Three more years slipped by. Pho Tu Tham’s health steadily declined. Yet, upon learning that Lam Thoi Ha would be hosting a one-month celebration for her newborn in Kinh Bac, he felt a desperate urge to see her once more. Even if it meant merely watching from a distance, it would suffice. Perhaps this would be his final opportunity in this lifetime, he reminded himself. Just one last time.

The courtyard of the Tham household was filled with vibrant, bustling energy. Lam Thoi Ha held her month-old child, the corners of her mouth curling into an unconscious smile. Tham Yen Thu walked over from nearby to take the infant, carefully draping a coat over Lam Thoi Ha’s shoulders.

Ha Ha, you must be exhausted. Come inside quickly; you must not catch a chill.

Their affectionate display drew playful teasing from the elder relatives nearby. It was not until the two retreated indoors that a woman in the corner noticed the lingering, wistful gaze of Pho Tu Tham. She looked him up and down, a flicker of confusion crossing her face.

Young man, do you also know the couple? Why didn't you go up to hold the baby? Are you still unmarried?

Seeing that Pho Tu Tham did not deny it, she patted his arm with familiar warmth and sighed.

You don't have to say it, I understand. You must be too busy with work to find a wife. Let me help you find someone...

Pho Tu Tham shook his head.

No need. The person I love has already married someone else.

The woman’s expression shifted, and as if sensing the gravity of the situation, she fell silent. Pho Tu Tham looked away, his gaze drifting toward a suspicious figure lurking by the back door. Seeing a brief glimpse of the person’s profile, a cold spark of realization lit up his eyes. Half an hour later, the celebration officially commenced. Hua Nam Son and the parents of the Tham family offered their gifts and blessings. Just as Lam Thoi Ha reached out to take the baby, Co Tieu lunged from the shadows, wielding a knife to hold both mother and child captive. A collective gasp rose from the crowd. Co Tieu’s veil fell away, revealing a face marred by grotesque burns and jagged scars that made onlookers recoil in disgust. Sensing their revulsion, her agitation spiraled.

What are you staring at? Look any longer, and I will gouge your eyes out! Everything is Lam Thoi Ha’s fault. And Pho Tu Tham, if not for you, I would have escaped that farm fire and not turned into this wretched, monstrous thing! You are fated to marry me!

As for Lam Thoi Ha, I will send her to hell with my own hands!

Pho Tu Tham checked his watch and maneuvered his wheelchair forward.

Co Tieu, when will you finally wake up to reality?

Looking at him, Co Tieu let out a low, chilling laugh.

Pho Tu Tham, what right do you have to say such things? Today, you will watch with your own eyes as Lam Thoi Ha dies.

With that, she brandished two knives—one pointed at the infant, the other at Lam Thoi Ha. Pho Tu Tham exchanged a sharp, knowing look with Tham Yen Thu. They understood each other instantly.