That night, after Luc Tram Chu finished showering, he walked out of the bathroom with wet hair.
Normally, I would have taken a towel and dried it for him.
I would have reminded him not to sleep with his hair wet.
I would have prepared the medicine he often forgot to take.
But that night, I only sat on the sofa, looking at my phone.
He noticed.
For a second, he seemed confused.
“Thanh Chi.”
I raised my head.
“Yes?”
“You seem strange these days.”
I smiled.
“Do I?”
He frowned slightly.
“Yeah.”
“You’ve been quiet.”
I looked at him.
Five years together.
Three years married.
He finally noticed.
But not because he cared.
Because my silence was different from my usual patience.
“I am just tired.”
He didn’t ask what I was tired of.
He only nodded.
Then he walked into the study.
The door closed.
Just like every night.
At midnight, I woke up.
Not because of him.
Because I heard him talking in his sleep.
“Thanh Van…”
My body froze.
Again.
That name.
The same name he called when he was drunk.
I lay there in the darkness.
I didn’t turn around.
I didn’t ask.
Because I already knew the answer.
Some answers don’t need to be spoken.
They only need to be accepted.
The next morning, Luc Tram Chu woke up earlier than usual.
He stood in front of the mirror adjusting his tie.
I sat at the dining table drinking coffee.
He looked at me.
“You don’t have work today?”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you not preparing breakfast?”
The sentence came naturally.
Almost unconsciously.
Like he was asking why the sun didn’t rise.
I looked at him.
For five years, I had always been the first person awake.
Preparing breakfast.
Washing clothes.
Remembering his meetings.
Remembering his preferences.
Taking care of every small detail.
Because I thought marriage meant two people taking care of each other.
But maybe…
Only one person was doing that.
“From now on, you can prepare it yourself.”
My words made him stop.
“What?”
I picked up my bag.
“I said, you can prepare your own breakfast.”
His eyebrows tightened.
“Thanh Chi, what’s wrong with you?”
I smiled.
“Nothing.”
“I’m just learning to take care of myself.”
He looked at me for a few seconds.
Then he laughed.
A little helpless.
“You are angry because of something small?”
Something small.
That phrase.
I suddenly remembered all the times I swallowed my feelings.
The nights he came home late.
The messages he deleted.
The way he kept a distance from me whenever someone mentioned his past.
I used to think I was being understanding.
Now I realized…
I was just ignoring myself.
At noon, the shipping company called.
“Miss Tham, we will come tomorrow morning at ten.”
“Okay.”
I hung up.
But I didn’t notice someone standing behind me.
Luc Tram Chu.
He was holding a glass of water.
His expression was unreadable.
“Shipping company?”
My fingers tightened.
“Yes.”
“For what?”
I looked at him calmly.
“Moving things.”
His face changed slightly.
“Moving where?”
“Beijing.”
The glass in his hand stopped.
“What?”
“I applied for a transfer.”
“When?”
“This week.”
He stared at me.
“You didn’t tell me?”
I looked at him.
“Did you ask?”
Silence.
The question left him speechless.
Because it was true.
For the past few years…
He had become used to me telling him everything.
But he had forgotten that he also needed to listen.
That evening, he followed me into the bedroom.
For the first time in many days, he looked serious.
“Thanh Chi.”
I continued folding clothes.
“Yes?”
“Why Beijing?”
I placed a shirt into the suitcase.
“Because I want to go.”
“Just because of work?”
I paused.
Then I answered:
“No.”
His eyes moved.
“Then because of what?”
I closed the suitcase.
“Because I don’t want to stay here anymore.”
His face became tense.
“Is this because of what I said when I was drunk?”
Finally.
He remembered.
I looked at him.
“Do you know who Thanh Van is?”
The room became silent.
His expression changed instantly.
Only one second.
But enough.
I saw it.
The panic.
The guilt.
The hesitation.
“You searched?”
I smiled.
“No.”
“I just heard you call her name.”
His lips moved.
“She…”
He stopped.
Maybe he wanted to explain.
Maybe he wanted to say it was the past.
Maybe he wanted to say nothing happened.
But I had already heard too much.
“Luc Tram Chu.”
I looked at him.
“I don’t want to know how much you loved her.”
“I don’t want to know why you married me.”
“I only know one thing.”
I touched my suitcase.
“For five years, I was standing beside someone who was still waiting for another woman.”
His face turned pale.
“Thanh Chi…”
“I am not leaving because you called her name.”
“I am leaving because I finally heard my own heart.”
The next morning at ten.
The movers arrived.
Luc Tram Chu was not at home.
Or maybe…
He deliberately wasn’t.
I didn’t know.
I took the three books from my mother.
The broken teddy bear.
The suitcase.
Nothing else.
Before leaving, I stood in front of our wedding photo.
I looked at the smiling woman in the picture.
She believed she had found a home.
I whispered:
“Sorry.”
“That girl loved you too much.”
“Now it’s my turn to love myself.”
Then I placed the wedding ring on the table.
And walked out.
I thought leaving quietly was the end.
But I didn’t know…
When Luc Tram Chu returned that evening and opened the bedroom door…
The first thing he saw was not the empty closet.
Not the missing suitcase.
It was the divorce agreement placed neatly on the bed.
And underneath it…
Was the old photo of him and Tong Thanh Van from college.
