Tan Loc’s words echoed in the room.
“With seventeen million yuan, you still lived like you had nothing?”
I lowered my eyes.
For some reason, that question hurt more than the divorce itself.
Because she was right.
For three years, I had lived as To Niem.
A simple wife.
A woman who cooked dinner every night.
A woman who waited for her husband to come home.
A woman who wore ordinary clothes and never mentioned her achievements.
Not because I had to.
Because I wanted to know whether Luc Canh Tham loved me when I had nothing to offer.
The answer was clear.
He didn’t.
Tan Loc sat beside me and softened her voice.
“Are you really going to let him go?”
I looked at the divorce papers on the table.
“Yes.”
“No regret?”
I shook my head.
“The person I loved was never the man who came home tonight.”
Tan Loc was silent.
Because she knew.
A month ago, before I signed the divorce application, I had already lost my husband in my heart.
Tonight was only the official ending.
The next morning, news about my divorce had not spread.
But something else happened.
Luc Canh Tham’s company suddenly received a cooperation invitation from a mysterious investment group.
The person responsible for the project was a woman.
Her name was Nam Son.
The same name that appeared on every best-selling marriage book in the country.
The same woman whose relationship consulting fee was higher than the monthly salary of most executives.
When Luc Canh Tham saw the documents, he frowned.
“Nam Son?”
His assistant nodded.
“Yes. She personally reviewed the project.”
“She rarely appears publicly.”
“She agreed because the chairman specifically requested her.”
Luc Canh Tham looked at the signature.
For some reason, the handwriting felt familiar.
But he couldn’t remember where he had seen it.
That afternoon, Phuong Dao came to the company.
She had a worried expression.
“Canh Tham.”
He looked up.
“What happened?”
She sat down beside him.
“Are you really divorcing Sister To?”
He frowned.
“Why are you asking?”
Phuong Dao lowered her head.
“I just feel guilty.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“But if I hadn’t appeared…”
Luc Canh Tham interrupted.
“Enough.”
His voice was tired.
For the first time, hearing Phuong Dao’s name did not bring him comfort.
Instead, it reminded him of the night before.
The lipstick mark.
The nightgown.
The divorce papers.
And To Niem’s calm eyes.
Those eyes bothered him.
Because there was no hatred.
No jealousy.
No tears.
Only disappointment.
Three days later, Luc Canh Tham received an invitation.
A private meeting with Nam Son.
He expected an older professional.
A serious consultant.
Someone who had spent decades studying relationships.
But when the door opened…
He froze.
The woman walking in wore a simple white suit.
Her hair was tied neatly.
Her expression was calm and confident.
It was a face he knew.
But also a face he had never truly known.
“To Niem?”
His voice was filled with disbelief.
She looked at him.
“Mr. Luc.”
That cold form of address made his heart tighten.
“You are Nam Son?”
“Yes.”
The room became silent.
Luc Canh Tham stared at her.
Impossible.
The wife who he thought depended on him.
The woman who stayed home every day.
The woman he believed needed his protection.
Was actually the person whose books had influenced millions of couples.
“You lied to me.”
The words came out unconsciously.
To Niem looked at him quietly.
“No.”
“I never lied.”
“I just never told you.”
He couldn’t answer.
Because she was right.
She never claimed to be ordinary.
He was the one who assumed it.
“I wanted to see if you loved me without knowing my identity.”
Her voice was calm.
“And you gave me the answer.”
Luc Canh Tham lowered his eyes.
For the first time, he felt ashamed.
Not because she was wealthy.
Not because she was famous.
But because he realized something.
The woman he ignored every day was someone the entire world respected.
Only he failed to see her value.
That evening, Luc Canh Tham returned home.
But the apartment felt unfamiliar.
The kitchen was clean.
The sofa was empty.
The slippers she always placed beside the door were gone.
Everything remained.
Except To Niem.
He opened the drawer.
Inside was an old notebook.
It was her handwriting.
A marriage record.
Day one:
“Canh Tham came home late. I prepared his favorite food.”
Day ninety:
“He forgot our anniversary. It’s okay. He is busy.”
Day three hundred:
“He didn’t notice my new book was published.”
Day seven hundred:
“I think I am becoming a stranger in my own marriage.”
His hands trembled.
He continued reading.
The final sentence was written one month ago.
“Today I stopped waiting.”
Luc Canh Tham closed the notebook.
His eyes became red.
Because he finally understood.
To Niem did not leave because another woman appeared.
Another woman only showed him how lonely she had already become.
That night, he called her.
The call connected.
But neither person spoke.
Finally, he whispered:
“To Niem.”
She answered calmly.
“Yes?”
“Can we start again?”
Silence.
Then she asked:
“Why?”
He froze.
“Because I know who you are now?”
Her question was quiet.
But sharp.
“If I was still just To Niem…”
“Would you still want me back?”
Luc Canh Tham had no answer.
Because he knew.
The answer would destroy him.
After a long time, To Niem said:
“I hope you find happiness.”
Then she ended the call.
And for the first time in three years…
Luc Canh Tham was the one staring at a silent phone.
The same silence he had given her countless times before.
Only now he finally understood how painful it was.
