Ta Vong truly believed I would calm myself down.
That night, while he remained at the party surrounded by laughter, I went home and began removing myself from his life.
There was no dramatic breakdown.
No smashed photographs.
No angry messages.
I simply opened the wardrobe and took out everything that belonged to me.
Two dresses.
A coat.
Three pairs of shoes.
My grandmother’s jasmine sachets.
And the small ceramic cup I always used when I made him tea after he drank too much.
That was all.
It surprised me.
I had spent almost two years in this apartment, yet there were so few traces proving I had ever lived there.
Most of the furniture had been chosen by Ta Vong.
The paintings were his.
The expensive wine was his.
Even the slippers by the entrance had been bought by his assistant.
I had always thought I had entered his world.
Only now did I realize that I had merely been allowed to occupy a small corner of it.
At two in the morning, I found a velvet box at the bottom of the drawer.
Inside was the bracelet Ta Vong gave me on our first anniversary.
At the time, he had fastened it around my wrist himself and said:
“Don’t lose it.”
I had smiled.
“What if I do?”
He had pinched my cheek.
“Then I’ll buy another one.”
I stared at the bracelet for a long time.
Then I placed it on the bedside table.
Beside it, I left the apartment key.
Nothing else.
No breakup letter.
No accusations.
People who truly want an explanation have not yet given up.
I no longer wanted one.
The next morning, I changed my phone number.
Then I called my landlord.
The small apartment I had rented before dating Ta Vong had fortunately never been sold.
The tenant had moved out two weeks earlier.
It almost felt as though life had quietly prepared an exit for me before I found the courage to take it.
By noon, my luggage was there.
I sat on the floor surrounded by unopened boxes.
The room was smaller.
The curtains were ordinary.
There was no expensive marble, no floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the river.
But when I opened the window, sunlight poured inside.
For the first time in a long while, I could breathe without wondering whether Ta Vong was getting tired of me.
My best friend, Su Nhi, arrived in the afternoon.
She stared at my suitcases.
Then at me.
“You really left him?”
“Yes.”
She seemed to want to celebrate.
But when she saw my swollen eyes, she only sat beside me.
“What happened?”
I told her everything.
The party.
The beautiful girl.
The jokes.
And Ta Vong’s sentence.
“I’ve never dated a normal girl. What’s wrong with trying it once?”
Su Nhi’s face slowly turned furious.
“That bastard.”
I laughed softly.
“Don’t curse him.”
“Why are you defending him?”
“I’m not.”
I looked down at my hands.
“I just don’t want to spend any more energy on him.”
That silenced her.
After a while, she asked:
“Does he know you moved out?”
“No.”
“You didn’t tell him?”
“No.”
Su Nhi stared at me.
Then suddenly smiled.
“Good.”
I looked at her.
She leaned closer.
“Let the Crown Prince discover for himself that the obedient girl he thought would always wait has disappeared.”
Ta Vong returned to the apartment the following evening.
Almost forty-eight hours after the party.
He had not intended to come back so soon.
But for some reason, the moment he entered the underground garage, he remembered the faint jasmine scent from the balcony.
Then he remembered me.
He took out his phone.
Our conversation was still at the top.
His last message:
Why didn’t you come tonight?
My reply:
I’m a little unwell, so I won’t go.
Nothing after that.
Ta Vong frowned.
Normally, even during our cold war, I would eventually send something.
A photograph of dinner.
A reminder not to drink too much.
Sometimes simply:
“Are you coming back tonight?”
There was nothing.
He opened the apartment door.
Darkness.
“Tran Mac?”
No answer.
He switched on the lights.
His steps stopped.
Something was wrong.
He couldn’t immediately identify it.
Then he noticed the slippers by the door.
Only one pair remained.
His.
Ta Vong walked toward the bedroom.
“Tran Mac?”
Still silence.
He opened the wardrobe.
Half of it was empty.
Not messy.
Not violently cleared out.
Just empty.
His expression changed.
Then he saw the bedside table.
A bracelet.
A key.
Nothing else.
For several seconds, Ta Vong simply stood there.
Then he laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because he genuinely thought I was throwing a tantrum.
He picked up the key and called me.
The number could not be reached.
Again.
Same result.
He opened WeChat.
His message failed.
For the first time, his eyebrows tightened.
He called a mutual friend.
“Where’s Tran Mac?”
The friend sounded confused.
“With you, isn’t she?”
“No.”
“Did you two fight?”
Ta Vong became impatient.
“Just tell me if you’ve seen her.”
“No.”
He hung up.
Then called another person.
And another.
No one knew.
Twenty minutes later, the girl from the party sent him a message.
Miss Linh: Dinner tomorrow? My father wants to meet you too.
Ta Vong glanced at it.
Normally, he would have replied.
Instead, he locked the screen.
He stared at the bracelet in his hand.
For some inexplicable reason, irritation began rising inside him.
“She really learned how to make trouble.”
He said it aloud.
As if convincing himself.
Because admitting that I had truly left was something he still could not imagine.
Three days passed.
Ta Vong did not find me.
On the fourth day, he finally went to my university.
My classmate told him:
“Tran Mac requested a temporary suspension.”
His expression changed.
“Why?”
“She got accepted into a research program.”
“Where?”
The girl hesitated.
“England.”
Ta Vong stared at her.
“When?”
“Her flight is tomorrow.”
Something inside him finally snapped.
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
He immediately turned and walked away.
For the first time in years, the usually composed Crown Prince almost ran through the corridor.
He called his assistant.
“Find her flight.”
The assistant froze.
“Whose?”
“Tran Mac’s.”
There was a pause.
“Immediately.”
Ten minutes later, he received the information.
Flight at 9:40 the next morning.
Ta Vong looked at the screen.
Then laughed coldly.
“She thinks leaving the country means she can avoid me?”
His friend, sitting opposite him, studied his face.
“Didn’t you say you were bored with her?”
Ta Vong looked up.
The friend continued:
“You also said you wanted both.”
Ta Vong’s expression darkened.
“So?”
“So why do you look like someone just stole your wife?”
Ta Vong said nothing.
The friend leaned back.
“Maybe Tran Mac finally understood something before you did.”
“What?”
“That she wasn’t competing with Miss Linh.”
He paused.
“She was deciding whether you were still worth choosing.”
Ta Vong’s fingers tightened around the phone.
That night, he did not sleep.
At six the next morning, he drove to the airport himself.
He broke two traffic lights.
Ignored seven calls.
And arrived twenty minutes before boarding closed.
For the first time, Ta Vong had only one thought.
Find Tran Mac.
Bring her back.
Then they could argue.
He could explain.
He could even apologize if necessary.
Because in his mind, our relationship still belonged to him.
He had never imagined that I might have the right to end it without his permission.
He searched the departure hall.
Once.
Twice.
Then he finally saw me.
I was standing near the international gate.
But I was not alone.
A tall man stood beside me, holding one of my suitcases.
I was laughing at something he had said.
Not the cautious smile I always gave Ta Vong.
A relaxed laugh.
Bright.
Unburdened.
Ta Vong stopped walking.
Then the man reached out and gently adjusted the jasmine sachet hanging from my backpack.
A gesture so natural that Ta Vong’s face instantly turned cold.
He walked toward us.
“Tran Mac.”
I heard the voice behind me.
My smile disappeared.
I turned.
For the first time in four days, I saw him.
Ta Vong stood several meters away, his breathing uneven, his eyes fixed on me.
“Come home.”
Not hello.
Not sorry.
Not even why.
Just the same commanding tone he had always used when he believed I would obey.
I looked at him quietly.
Then I shook my head.
“No.”
His expression froze.
Behind me, the boarding announcement sounded.
Ta Vong took another step.
“Tran Mac, stop making trouble.”
I smiled.
And perhaps it was that smile that finally made him uneasy.
Because there was no sadness left in it.
“Ta Vong.”
I looked directly at the man I had secretly loved for years.
“I’m not making trouble.”
I handed my passport to the gate agent.
“I’m breaking up with you.”
His face changed completely.
But before he could reach me, the man beside me stepped between us.
Ta Vong looked at him coldly.
“Who are you?”
The man smiled.
Then he said a name that made Ta Vong stop dead in his tracks.
Because that surname belonged to the only family in the city even the Ta family could not afford to offend.
And he was holding my suitcase.
