But after that first month, Pho Tu Dao returned from studying abroad.

And everything changed.

She was Pho Tram Chu’s younger sister, eight years younger than him and the person he had protected almost obsessively since childhood.

Their father had died early.

Their mother had spent years in poor health.

So Pho Tram Chu had practically raised Tu Dao himself.

At first, Tong Can tried very hard to get along with her.

She bought her gifts.

Remembered her favorite foods.

Even converted the brightest guest room into an art studio because Tu Dao said she wanted to learn painting.

But Tu Dao never liked her.

In front of Pho Tram Chu, she called her “sister-in-law” sweetly.

Behind his back, she would smile and say:

—You really got lucky.

Or:

—If my mother hadn’t liked you, do you think my brother would ever have noticed someone like you?

Tong Can never told Pho Tram Chu.

She believed that marriage required tolerance.

Until tolerance gradually became permission.

Tu Dao borrowed her jewelry without asking.

Entered their bedroom whenever she wanted.

Canceled Tong Can’s plans because she suddenly wanted her brother to accompany her somewhere.

And every time Tong Can objected, Pho Tram Chu said the same thing.

—She’s still young.

Tu Dao was twenty-four.

Yet somehow, she was always “still young.”

That night at the banquet was simply the first time Pho Tram Chu humiliated his wife in front of everyone.

And also the last.

When Tong Can returned to the villa, it was almost midnight.

The housekeeper, Auntie Chen, gasped when she saw the wine stains on her dress and the scrape on her knee.

—Madam! What happened?

Tong Can lowered her eyes.

—Nothing.

Then she walked upstairs.

She entered the bedroom she had shared with Pho Tram Chu for three years.

His watch was still beside the bed.

His slippers were positioned neatly under the sofa.

A half-read financial magazine lay on the nightstand.

Everything looked exactly the same.

Yet somehow, it no longer felt like her home.

Tong Can opened the wardrobe.

She did not take the expensive clothes Pho Tram Chu had bought.

She did not touch the jewelry.

She packed only the things she had brought into the marriage.

Three old cameras.

A box of photographs.

Several sketchbooks.

And her grandmother’s small wooden jewelry case.

The vase was gone now.

There was nothing else left from home.

At two in the morning, she called someone she had not spoken to in almost a year.

—Professor Lin.

The elderly man’s voice immediately became alert.

—Tong Can?

—I want to accept the Toronto position.

There was silence.

He had offered her a place in an international photography restoration program months ago.

She had rejected it because the course required living in Canada for at least two years.

At the time, Pho Tram Chu had said:

—If you really want to go, I won’t stop you.

But his expression had been cold for three days afterward.

So Tong Can stayed.

She had mistaken sacrifice for love.

Professor Lin asked carefully:

—Are you sure?

Tong Can looked toward the empty half of the bed.

—I’m sure.

The next morning, before sunrise, she signed the program agreement electronically.

Then she placed another document on Pho Tram Chu’s desk.

A divorce agreement.

She didn’t leave a letter.

There was nothing left to explain.

At nine forty, her flight departed for Toronto.

Meanwhile, Pho Tram Chu was sitting in his office.

He had not slept well.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Tong Can falling backward.

He remembered the sound of the glasses breaking.

The red wine spreading across her white dress.

And most of all, her expression.

She hadn’t cried.

That bothered him more than tears would have.

His secretary entered carrying several documents.

—President Pho, the morning meeting begins in ten minutes.

Pho Tram Chu suddenly stood.

—Cancel it.

—Sir?

He picked up his coat.

He had decided to go home.

He would apologize.

Perhaps buy Tong Can another vase.

A better one.

If necessary, he would find an antique from the same dynasty.

On the drive back, Tu Dao called.

—Brother, are you still angry because of yesterday?

—I’m busy.

—Sister-in-law probably exaggerated everything again—

Pho Tram Chu hung up.

For the first time, irritation rose inside him when he heard those words.

When the car reached the villa, Auntie Chen was already waiting outside.

Her face looked strange.

Pho Tram Chu stepped out.

—Where is Tong Can?

Auntie Chen hesitated.

—Sir…

—Call her downstairs.

The housekeeper lowered her head.

—Madam flew to Toronto this morning.

Pho Tram Chu stopped walking.

—What?

—She left before dawn.

His expression changed.

—Why would she go to Toronto?

Auntie Chen looked at him with something almost like disappointment.

—Madam was accepted into an international photography program there.

Pho Tram Chu remembered immediately.

The offer.

The one she had rejected.

He had assumed she no longer wanted it.

—When is she coming back?

Auntie Chen did not answer.

Instead, she handed him an envelope.

Pho Tram Chu opened it.

The first page contained two words.

DIVORCE AGREEMENT.

His fingers tightened.

—Where are her things?

—Gone.

He ran upstairs.

The bedroom door flew open.

Her side of the wardrobe was almost empty.

The cameras were gone.

Her photographs were gone.

Her sketchbooks were gone.

Only the dresses, bags and jewelry he had purchased remained.

It looked less like someone had moved away and more like someone had carefully removed every trace of herself.

Pho Tram Chu stood motionless.

Then his phone rang.

Tu Dao.

He rejected it.

She called again.

And again.

Finally he answered.

—Brother, Mom wants us to have dinner tonight. Bring sister-in-law too. I’ll apologize about the vase if she still cares so much.

Pho Tram Chu’s eyes landed on something beneath the desk.

A small blue porcelain fragment.

He bent down and picked it up.

On the back was a faded handwritten character.

Tong Can’s grandmother’s name.

His face slowly changed.

—Tu Dao.

His voice was terrifyingly calm.

—Did you break that vase accidentally?

Silence.

Then she laughed nervously.

—Of course. Why are you suddenly asking?

Pho Tram Chu said nothing.

Because on the desk beside the divorce papers lay one final item Tong Can had apparently forgotten.

The banquet hall’s security footage had been emailed to her that morning.

The video was paused on one frame.

Pho Tu Dao stood beside the vase.

Her hand was clearly pushing it from the table.

Deliberately.

And worse—

she was smiling.

Pho Tram Chu stared at the screen.

For the first time in three years, he realized that the person he had protected without question might have been lying to him all along.

And the wife he had pushed away…

had already crossed an ocean without waiting for his apology.