When the plane landed in Germany, I turned on my old phone only once.
Ninety-nine missed calls.
One hundred and thirty messages.
The newest came from Ma Thuy Phuong.
“Daughter-in-law, there’s no food in the house. When are you coming home?”
The second was from Ha Dinh.
“Where are you?”
Then:
“My mother hasn’t eaten properly all day.”
“The electricity company sent a payment reminder.”
“Why didn’t you pay the management fee?”
“Tham Lam, stop playing games.”
Finally:
“Answer me immediately.”
I stared at those messages in the arrivals hall.
Then I laughed.
Not because they were funny.
Because after years of being told I contributed nothing important to that household, it had taken them less than one day to discover that the invisible things did not happen by themselves.
I opened my banking app.
Balance:
2 yuan.
The two yuan remaining from the ten he had called my “living expenses.”
I transferred them to Ha Dinh.
Under the note, I wrote:
Remaining household allowance. Spend carefully.
Then I removed the SIM card.
The company driver was already waiting.
“Ms. Tham?”
“Yes.”
“Welcome to Frankfurt.”
He took my suitcase.
For the first time in years, someone carried something for me without asking what I would cook in return.
Back home, Ha Dinh stared at the two-yuan transfer for almost a full minute.
His mother leaned over his shoulder.
“How much did she send?”
He showed her.
Ma Thuy Phuong exploded.
“Two yuan?!”
“She’s doing this deliberately.”
“Call her!”
“I’ve called ninety-nine times!”
“Then call her company!”
Ha Dinh did.
Reception transferred him to my department.
Bach Giai answered.
“I’m looking for Tham Lam.”
“She’s unavailable.”
“I’m her husband.”
There was a pause.
Then:
“Oh.”
The way Bach Giai said that single word irritated him.
“Put her on.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s in Germany.”
Silence.
Ha Dinh slowly stood.
“Where?”
“Germany.”
“What is she doing there?”
Another pause.
“Working.”
His face darkened.
“For how long?”
“Six months.”
The phone almost slipped from his hand.
“Six months?”
Ma Thuy Phuong shouted from behind him:
“What six months?!”
Bach Giai heard.
“So she didn’t tell you?”
Ha Dinh’s embarrassment immediately became anger.
“She is my wife. Of course she told me.”
“Then why are you asking me?”
He had no answer.
Bach Giai continued:
“Manager Dien is busy. If this is not a work-related matter, please don’t call the department again.”
The line disconnected.
Ha Dinh stared at the phone.
His mother immediately started complaining.
“She went abroad without permission?”
“Does she still consider you her husband?”
“She must come back!”
“Tonight Aunt Hai’s family is coming!”
Ha Dinh rubbed his temples.
For the first time, he looked around the apartment properly.
There was no rice.
No vegetables.
No meat.
No detergent.
The refrigerator contained half a bottle of water and three eggs.
His mother said:
“Go shopping.”
He looked at her.
“With what?”
She blinked.
“Your money.”
“My salary is with you.”
Ma Thuy Phuong’s expression changed.
Then she laughed.
“That money is savings.”
“I need some back.”
Her smile disappeared.
“What?”
“The electricity bill is due.”
“Use Tham Lam’s salary.”
“She’s gone.”
“Then use your card.”
“The credit card needs paying next week.”
“So?”
Ha Dinh stared at her.
Until that moment, he had never known how much the household actually cost.
Because every month, he transferred thirty thousand yuan to his mother and felt virtuous.
Then I quietly paid everything else.
Electricity.
Water.
Gas.
Management fees.
Parking.
Groceries.
Internet.
Insurance.
Household repairs.
His clothes.
His mother’s medicine.
Even the gifts he carried to relatives and received praise for buying.
Ha Dinh opened our expense application.
For the first time, he reviewed six months of records.
His face slowly changed.
Average monthly household spending:
18,740 yuan.
My payments:
17,960 yuan.
His:
780 yuan.
Most of his 780 yuan was cigarettes.
He stared at the numbers.
Ma Thuy Phuong snatched the phone.
“What nonsense is this?”
“Mom…”
“What?”
“You said Tham Lam wasted money.”
“She does!”
“On what?”
His mother opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Because the records were painfully clear.
The cashmere cardigan she was wearing:
Paid by me.
Her last dental treatment:
Paid by me.
The refrigerator she complained was too small:
Paid by me.
Even the birthday banquet where she told everyone her son was extraordinarily filial…
Paid with my credit card.
Ha Dinh’s face became ugly.
“Give me ten thousand.”
His mother immediately hugged her handbag.
“No.”
He stared.
“What?”
“The money you give me is filial money. Once it reaches my hands, how can you ask for it back?”
“The bills need to be paid.”
“Tell your wife to pay them!”
“She is in Germany!”
“Then tell her to transfer money!”
For several seconds, Ha Dinh said nothing.
Then he asked:
“Where is the thirty thousand I sent you four days ago?”
His mother’s eyes shifted.
“Safe.”
“Where?”
“In my account.”
“Show me.”
“Why should I?”
“Mom.”
She became angry.
“Are you interrogating your own mother because of that woman?”
That answer was enough to make suspicion appear in his eyes.
He grabbed her phone.
She tried to stop him.
“Ha Dinh!”
He opened the banking application.
The thirty thousand yuan was gone.
Balance:
1,263 yuan.
His face changed.
“Where is my money?”
His mother snatched the phone back.
“I used it.”
“On what?”
“Your sister needed it.”
“What did she need thirty thousand for?”
Ma Thuy Phuong hesitated.
Then said:
“She and her boyfriend are buying a car.”
Ha Dinh stared at her.
“You gave my entire salary to Ha Linh?”
“She’s your sister!”
“So what are we supposed to live on?”
His mother answered without hesitation:
“Tham Lam earns money.”
The apartment became silent.
That sentence finally sounded different to him.
For years, his mother had called my income unimportant.
But every plan she made secretly depended on it.
Meanwhile, three days into Germany, I attended my first project meeting.
Twelve people.
Three nationalities.
Six hours.
Not once did anyone ask whether I had prepared dinner before arriving.
Not once did anyone call me selfish for concentrating on work.
At the end, the German project director shook my hand.
“Ms. Tham, your previous proposal saved us almost two months of redevelopment work.”
I was stunned.
At home, Ha Dinh often said:
“You just sit in an office. How tiring can it be?”
Here, someone actually knew what I did.
Manager Dien called that evening.
“How are you adapting?”
“Better than expected.”
“Good.”
Then he hesitated.
“There’s something I should warn you about.”
“What?”
“Your husband came to headquarters today.”
I stopped.
“What did he want?”
“You.”
I almost laughed.
“He demanded that the company cancel your assignment.”
My expression cooled.
“And?”
“I told him employment decisions are between the company and the employee.”
“Thank you.”
“He wasn’t happy.”
“I imagine.”
Manager Dien continued:
“He said your family needs you at home.”
I looked out over Frankfurt’s lights.
“Did he say I needed them?”
Silence.
Then Dien Viet sighed.
“No.”
“Exactly.”
On the seventh day, Ha Dinh finally learned to cook rice.
He burned the first pot.
His mother blamed the cooker.
The second time, she complained the rice was too hard.
At nine that night, she called me using another number.
I answered accidentally.
“Daughter-in-law!”
I immediately recognized her voice.
“There you are!”
I said nothing.
She continued:
“When are you coming back?”
“Six months.”
“What?”
“I’m working here for six months.”
“That’s impossible!”
“Why?”
“Who is going to take care of this house?”
I almost smiled.
“You.”
She became furious.
“I am your elder!”
“Exactly.”
“You told me women should manage the home.”
Silence.
“So manage it.”
She shouted:
“Your husband gave me all his salary!”
“Congratulations.”
“But there’s no money left!”
“That sounds like a budgeting problem.”
Her breathing became heavy.
“You really intend to abandon your family over ten yuan?”
I looked at the German employment contract beside me.
“No.”
My voice was calm.
“The ten yuan simply helped me understand my position in that family.”
Then Ha Dinh’s voice appeared.
He had taken the phone.
“Tham Lam.”
I said nothing.
His tone was different this time.
Less arrogant.
“Come home.”
“No.”
“I know you’re angry.”
“I’m not.”
“We can change how we handle money.”
“No need.”
“I won’t transfer everything to Mom next month.”
“That’s your decision.”
He fell silent.
Then:
“Why are you acting like this?”
I closed my eyes.
There it was again.
As though my departure had appeared from nowhere.
“You gave your mother thirty thousand.”
“Yes.”
“You gave me ten.”
“I know.”
“You told me that was enough to live on.”
“I was angry.”
“No, Ha Dinh.”
I looked at the untouched company dinner on my desk.
“You were comfortable.”
He stopped breathing.
“You knew I would pay the bills.”
“You knew I would buy groceries.”
“You knew I would care for your mother.”
“You knew I would never allow the household to collapse.”
“So you could give away every cent of your salary and still call yourself filial.”
His voice became low.
“I didn’t realize you paid that much.”
“That’s the problem.”
Silence.
“You never realized anything about me.”
Then I disconnected.
Two weeks later, an international courier reached Ha Dinh’s office.
He opened the envelope.
Inside was a formal separation notice.
And a complete financial statement.
Every cent I had contributed during our marriage.
Every debt of his I had helped repay.
Every expense his mother had pushed onto me.
At the final page was one sentence from my lawyer:
From this date forward, Ms. Tham will cease voluntarily subsidizing the living expenses of Mr. Ha and his relatives.
Ha Dinh read it twice.
Then his phone rang.
Manager Dien.
He answered immediately.
“Is Tham Lam coming back?”
Dien Viet remained silent for a moment.
Then said:
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“The German office submitted an evaluation yesterday.”
Ha Dinh gripped the phone.
“And?”
“They want her permanently.”
His face went white.
“What do you mean permanently?”
“A senior project position opened in Europe.”
“She has a home here.”
“She also has a career.”
“I’m her husband.”
Manager Dien’s response was calm.
“Then perhaps you should have treated her like your wife before her employer started treating her like someone worth keeping.”
The line disconnected.
Ha Dinh stood alone in his office.
On the desk lay my separation papers.
On his phone was the photograph Ma Thuy Phuong had sent that morning of an overdue electricity notice.
And suddenly he understood something that should have been obvious years earlier.
He had spent every month proudly giving his mother thirty thousand yuan.
But the person actually supporting his life…
had been the woman he believed should be grateful for ten.
