Chapter 1 — Who Gave You the Right to Take My Home?

Studying abroad for three years, I saved enough money and decided to return to my country to settle. As soon as the plane landed, I dragged my suitcase straight home, wanting to give my parents a surprise. Used the key to open the door... only to discover that the lock had been changed. The person who opened the door was my cousin. She wore my silk nightgown and used my limited edition cosmetics set. He raised his eyebrows to evaluate me, his voice full of disdain:

“My mother has transferred this house to me. Who are you?”

I laughed, pulled out my phone, and called three times in a row. First call to lawyer:

“I want my home back, now.”

Second call to the TV station:

"People's livelihood program, right? There is very good material here about illegal housing occupation."

The third session turns on speakerphone:

“Director Vuong, the real estate dispute in the area you manage… is directly related to the year-end evaluation.”

His cousin's face turned from proud to pale. My aunt rushed out, trying to tear my mouth out. I held up the house ownership certificate straight up.

“Don't rush... your 'unique' life has only just begun.”

Study abroad for three years, then return to discover... my house has been taken over by relatives. Three years away from home, as soon as the plane touched the ground, outside the window was the city I used to live in—the lights were bright, both familiar and strange. A few high-rise buildings rose up, interfering with my old memories. The window glass reflected my slightly tired face, but a fire burned in my heart. Three years, neither long nor short. Enough for me to stay awake in a foreign land countless nights, gritting my teeth to get through the most difficult times. Enough for me to accumulate something—called “living without looking at anyone's face”. In the suitcase, in addition to a few personal items, there were also gifts for my parents. A limited edition set of fishing rods that dad keeps talking about. A designer cashmere scarf that mom always wanted. I did not notify the flight in advance. Just wanted to do a "attack", seeing the two of them surprisingly happy. Taxis run through streets still as crowded as before. The light passes through the glass window, painting a familiar yet strange city. The driver said a lot has changed in recent years, many places are unrecognizable. I just replied vaguely. Because in my mind, I had soon returned to the apartment in the western part of the city—the place that contained both my childhood and youth. Before studying abroad, I used the first money I earned after working, plus the money my parents contributed, to buy that house. The red book clearly states just one name: Lam Van. At that time I thought— Those are my roots in this city. It's the safest shelter, no matter how windy or rainy it is out there. Over the past three years, I have had little contact with my family. Time zone difference and busy work are like an invisible layer. Every time I video call, my parents always say everything is fine, tell me not to worry, just take good care of myself. I once casually said that I might return home. But maybe they don't pay attention, they just think it's idle talk. The taxi stopped in front of the apartment complex gate. I pulled my suitcase and walked quickly to the familiar building. Magnetic cards can still be used.

“tick”—the door opens.

Everything remains the same. The elevator went to the 12th floor. I stood in front of the house, my heart suddenly beating faster. The familiar key in his hand, shining under the hallway light. I took a breath, feeling a little nervous as if I was preparing a small joke. Then put the key in the ignition— Not right. The familiar smooth feeling does not appear. The key seemed stuck in something unfamiliar. Cannot rotate. Can't pull it out either. I paused for a second, thinking that if I hadn't used it for a long time, the lock would leak. Try again, this time using more force. Still not moving. The initial excitement in my heart quickly cooled, replaced by an indescribable feeling of wrongness that slowly crept up. I bent down and looked closely at the lock, turning on my phone's flashlight to look in. My heart suddenly sank. The internal structure... was completely unfamiliar. This is basically not my house's lock. Who changed the lock? Why change? Do parents know? Why don't you tell me? A series of questions rushed into my head. An ominous premonition like cold water slowly rose up to my ankles. I took a deep breath, put the key in my pocket, and raised my hand to ring the doorbell. Inside, there was the sound of shuffling footsteps. The door opened a crack. A face covered in a green seaweed mud mask poked out, revealing only delicately drawn eyes, sizing me up from top to bottom. A sharp sweet perfume smell, completely out of place with my house's minimalist style, rushed straight into my nose.

“Looking for someone?” The voice was a bit impatient, very young, clearly a girl.

I forced my emotions down, trying to keep my voice calm.

“Let me ask, is this Lam Kien Quoc's house?”

That's my father's name. She paused for a moment. Under the mask, the expression was not clearly visible, but the eyes flashed with alertness... and strangeness.

"Who are you? You've got the wrong house."

Having finished speaking, he decided to close the door. Just as the door was about to close, my eyes glanced behind her—and then froze. The shoe cabinet in Huyen Quan was littered with branded shopping bags with ostentatious logos. Next to it is a pair of limited edition sneakers, men's size. It can't be my dad's style. But the thing that made me want to explode the most— The handmade wall tapestry I personally chose to buy from Nepal… was gone. Instead, it was a cheap print with dazzlingly bright colors. The blood in my body made a "thumping" sound that rose to my head.

“I am Lam Van.”

I looked straight into her eyes, every word clear:

“This is my home.”

She stiffened. One hand pulled off the mask, revealing a face that was also considered beautiful, but full of surprise... and hostility. I recognize this face. The daughter of a distant aunt—Ton Tu Anh. Trieu Diem Diem. After three years of not seeing her, she's changed a lot. Her body is covered with dazzling brand logos, and her face has faint traces of cosmetic surgery.

“Lin Van… cousin?”

Her voice was high-pitched, as if she couldn't believe it.

“Why did you come back?”

Not only did she not get out of the way, she also blocked the door tighter. The body unconsciously shields itself inside. But just one glance was enough— From the mysterious gate leading into the living room, spread out with a cheap pink long shag carpet. Doesn't belong in my house.

“Why can't I go home?”

I burst out laughing, reaching out to push her away.

“This is my house, stay away.”

Trieu Diem Diem immediately felt like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, using his whole body to block the door, his voice shrill:

"What's wrong with you? Why are you breaking into people's houses? This house is mine now!"

Those two words were like two bullets, exploding straight into my ears. At this moment, a slightly plump middle-aged woman, wearing a silk robe, quickly walked out of the living room. He hasn't arrived yet, but his voice has already sounded:

"Diem Diem, what are you arguing about outside the door? Don't you know how to save face?"

It's my aunt—Ton Tu Anh. She saw me, her steps stopped. All kinds of emotions flashed across his face—surprise, panic. But very quickly, the pretense of calmness and familiar bitterness were overshadowed.

"Oh, who is this, isn't it Van Van? I can't survive abroad, so I have to go back?"

She walked over and stood next to Trieu Diem Diem. The mother and daughter were like two statues blocking the door, blocking the entrance. She crossed her arms, looked from head to toe with her eyes as if evaluating a failure, then pouted:

"I didn't come back without notice, so hastily. This house is where Diem Diem is staying right now. If there's anything to do, let's meet again another day and talk about it."

My eyes fell on the robe on her body— It was the birthday gift I asked my friend to bring home for my mother last year. Genuine silk. Anger and cold ran down my spine. I resisted the urge to throw the suitcase right in their faces. The voice was cold to freezing:

"Ton Tu Anh. Trieu Diem Diem."

“I'll say it for the last time—stay away.”

“This is my home.”

"On the red book... the name is written as Lam Van."

Trieu Diem Diem felt like the three words "red book" had hit a sore spot, he immediately found a bit of distorted "confidence", raised his chin, his voice full of ridiculous superiority:

"Lam Van, stop causing trouble here! My mother transferred this house to me a long time ago! Now it is my pre-marital property! What are you? A distant relative of eight generations with no involvement, asking for the house? Are you ashamed?"

Change name? Pre-marital assets? The words were so absurd that I almost burst out laughing. But I couldn't laugh.