Bach Oanh looked at me carefully.
In my previous life, that expression would have made my blood boil.
The confidence.
The pity.
The belief that she had already won.
She had come to my door carrying a deployment order, but what she really wanted was not to join the army.
She wanted my marriage certificate.
She wanted my place.
She wanted to become the woman standing beside Nghiem Bach Lam.
And in my previous life, I gave her exactly what she wanted.
Not because I accepted defeat.
Because I was too angry to think clearly.
That day, I screamed.
I cried.
I threw the marriage certificate onto the floor.
I questioned Bach Lam.
I asked why he had let another woman come into my house.
The baby in my belly reacted to my emotions.
My blood pressure rose.
And I was rushed to the military hospital.
Everyone blamed me.
They said I was too emotional.
Too jealous.
Too unreasonable.
Nobody blamed the woman who had appeared at my door.
Nobody blamed the man who allowed it.
But this time…
I was calm.
I looked at Bach Oanh.
Then at the deployment order in her hand.
—Congratulations.
Her smile froze.
She clearly didn’t expect that answer.
—That’s all?
I nodded.
—What else should I say?
She stepped closer.
—My Ha, you know what this means.
—Bach Lam and I have known each other for many years.
—You are only holding onto a marriage that has already lost its meaning.
I gently touched my stomach.
The baby moved.
But this time, I didn’t panic.
I knew.
This child would survive.
Because this time, I would protect both of us.
I looked at her.
—If you want the marriage certificate, ask Nghiem Bach Lam yourself.
Her expression changed.
—You don’t believe me?
I smiled.
—No.
—I believe you too much.
She didn’t understand.
But she would.
Soon.
That evening, Bach Lam returned.
In my previous life, this was when I waited for him to defend me.
I expected him to say:
“Don’t worry. I only love you.”
I expected him to choose me.
Instead, he chose silence.
This time, I didn’t wait.
When he entered, I placed the deployment order on the table.
He froze.
—Where did you get this?
—Bach Oanh brought it.
His expression immediately changed.
Not anger.
Concern.
I watched carefully.
In my previous life, I had missed that detail.
He was always angry when I questioned her.
But never angry that she came between us.
—What did she say?
I smiled.
—She asked for our marriage certificate.
The room became silent.
Bach Lam’s hand tightened.
—She said that?
I nodded.
Then something unexpected happened.
He grabbed the paper.
And tore it apart.
The deployment order.
Right in front of me.
—She will not join the army.
I looked at him quietly.
He continued:
—And I will never recognize this.
In my previous life, I would have cried with relief.
I would have believed I had won.
But now…
I only felt cold.
Because I remembered.
The next day.
The hospital.
The false consent form.
The operating room.
My dead child.
My stolen future.
A man could destroy evidence in front of me…
and still betray me behind my back.
That night, Bach Lam held my hand.
—My Ha.
I looked at him.
—Yes?
He hesitated.
—Do you believe me?
A strange question.
Because once upon a time, I did.
I believed him more than I believed myself.
I rested my head against the pillow.
—Of course.
His expression softened.
He thought I had forgiven him.
He thought everything was the same.
But he didn’t know.
The woman lying beside him had already died once.
And the woman who returned…
didn’t love blindly anymore.
The next morning, I went for my prenatal examination.
The nurse smiled.
—Mrs. Nghiem, your husband already completed the paperwork.
I stopped.
—What paperwork?
She handed me the documents.
I looked down.
My blood froze.
It wasn’t a prenatal examination form.
It was a surgical consent form.
The same one.
The same handwriting.
The same place where Bach Lam’s signature appeared.
For a moment, the hospital disappeared.
I was back in my previous life.
The cold operating room.
The doctor’s voice.
“Your husband approved it.”
My child.
My body.
My choice.
Everything stolen.
But this time…
I didn’t scream.
I didn’t collapse.
I calmly folded the paper.
Then asked:
—Who submitted this?
The nurse hesitated.
—Your husband.
I smiled.
—Thank you.
Then I took out my phone.
And made a call.
Ten minutes later, my father’s old secretary answered.
—Miss My Ha?
I looked at the hospital corridor.
—Prepare everything.
A pause.
—Everything?
—Yes.
—Including the documents from twenty years ago.
The secretary became serious.
—Understood.
I ended the call.
Because in my previous life, I only knew how to fight with tears.
This life…
I would fight with evidence.
That afternoon, Bach Lam came to the hospital.
He still looked like the perfect husband.
Concerned.
Gentle.
Worried.
—My Ha, why didn’t you tell me you were upset?
I looked at him.
—Upset?
He sat beside me.
—About the surgery.
My heart went cold.
—What surgery?
His expression changed.
Only slightly.
But enough.
—You know what I mean.
I smiled.
—No.
—I don’t.
Silence.
Then he lowered his voice.
—Bach Oanh is pregnant.
There it was.
The sentence I had been waiting for.
The sentence that destroyed me once.
He continued:
—She has no one.
—The child cannot grow up without a father.
I looked at him.
—So?
His eyes avoided mine.
—After she gives birth…
—I will bring the child home.
The room became completely silent.
I touched my stomach.
My unborn child.
The child he was already planning to replace.
Then I asked softly:
—And me?
Bach Lam froze.
For the first time, he looked uncomfortable.
—My Ha…
I smiled.
—Don’t worry.
—I understand now.
He reached for my hand.
But I moved away.
Because I finally understood something.
In my previous life, I lost everything because I kept asking him to choose me.
This time…
I would never ask again.
That night, my father arrived.
Not as a politician.
Not as a powerful man.
As my father.
He looked at my pregnancy records.
Then the surgical documents.
His face became terrifyingly calm.
—Who signed this?
I answered:
—My husband.
He closed his eyes.
After several seconds, he said:
—Then he forgot something important.
I looked at him.
—What?
My father placed a folder on the table.
—The Nghiem family thinks they own you because you married into them.
He looked at me.
—They forgot you were a Hale before you became Mrs. Nghiem.
The next morning, the military headquarters received a letter.
Not from me.
From my family.
And when Nghiem Bach Lam opened it…
his face changed completely.
Because inside was not a divorce request.
Not yet.
It was an investigation request.
Regarding:
Unauthorized medical consent.
Forgery of documents.
And attempted violation of the legal rights of the child in my womb.
For the first time…
Bach Lam realized something.
The quiet wife he thought he could control…
was no longer the same woman.
And Bach Oanh, who had returned expecting me to surrender my place…
was about to discover the truth.
She had not come to take my marriage.
She had walked directly into the trap I was preparing for both of them.
