I looked at Lục Kiến Tinh.
—Why have I come back?
He pointed toward the living room as if the answer were obvious.
—Tô Lan and the child need somewhere to stay. You already said we’d broken up, so there’s no point creating an uncomfortable situation.
I glanced at my pajamas on Tô Lan.
Then at the muddy footprints covering my sofa.
—And where am I supposed to stay?
He frowned.
—You have several properties under the Lâm family. Don’t be selfish.
I almost laughed.
There it was.
He had married another woman in the morning.
And by evening, he was already distributing my belongings as compensation for her difficult life.
Tô Lan stood.
—Niệm Sơ, don’t misunderstand. Kiến Tinh said this house was practically his anyway.
I looked at him.
—Did you?
He avoided my eyes.
—We were going to marry. There was never any need to distinguish yours from mine.
—But we didn’t marry.
Silence.
I placed the flowers on the table.
Then took out the red marriage certificate from my bag.
Lục Kiến Tinh’s eyes immediately narrowed.
—What’s that?
I opened it.
Two names.
Lâm Niệm Sơ
Thẩm Ước
His face froze.
Tô Lan’s smile disappeared.
—You actually registered a marriage?
—Yes.
Lục Kiến Tinh grabbed the certificate.
He checked it once.
Then again.
As though looking harder might change the name.
—Impossible.
I took it back.
—The Civil Affairs Office apparently disagrees.
His expression became ugly.
—You married Thẩm Ước just to provoke me?
I stared at him.
—This morning you married another woman.
—And somehow I’m the one being impulsive?
—That’s different!
—Why?
His answer came immediately.
—Because Tô Lan and I did it for the child!
I nodded.
—Then enjoy your family.
I pointed toward the front door.
—Outside my house.
The little boy immediately shouted:
—This is Dad’s house!
I looked at him.
Before I could speak, Tô Lan said proudly:
—Kiến Tinh told us we’d live here from now on.
I turned toward him.
—Did you also tell her whose name is on the deed?
His face changed.
Tô Lan slowly looked at him.
—What does she mean?
I walked toward the cabinet and removed the property folder.
—This villa was transferred to me by my grandfather when I turned twenty-one.
I opened the first page.
Only one owner.
Me.
—Lục Kiến Tinh never paid the mortgage because there isn’t one.
—He never contributed to renovations.
—He doesn’t own a single tile.
Tô Lan’s face went white.
—But you said—
—I thought after marriage—
He stopped.
I smiled.
—There was no marriage.
Not with me.
I pulled out my phone.
—You have twenty minutes to take your things and leave.
His expression hardened.
—Niệm Sơ, don’t go too far.
—Seventeen minutes now.
He didn’t believe me until security arrived.
The building manager came with two guards.
I changed the door code while they watched.
Tô Lan had to remove my pajamas and change back into her own clothes.
Her son cried because he didn’t want to leave the television.
Lục Kiến Tinh stood at the entrance, furious.
—You’ll regret this when Thẩm Ước gets tired of you.
I looked at him.
—Maybe.
That possibility didn’t frighten me anymore.
Because even if Thẩm Ước left one day, this time I knew I would survive.
I had finally stopped building my entire life around whether a man chose me.
The elevator doors closed on their family.
For the first time that day, the house became quiet.
At eleven that night, Thẩm Ước video-called me from the airport.
His tie was crooked.
He looked exhausted.
But the first question he asked was:
—Did you eat?
Not:
Did Lục Kiến Tinh call?
Not:
Are you regretting marrying me?
Did you eat?
I stared at him.
—Not yet.
His face immediately hardened.
—Lâm Niệm Sơ.
I laughed.
—I will.
Then I told him what happened.
The pajamas.
The sofa.
The house.
When I finished, he was silent for several seconds.
—He moved his wife into your house on the same day he married her?
—Apparently.
Thẩm Ước rubbed his forehead.
—I spent ten years losing to this man?
I burst out laughing.
He looked offended.
—Don’t laugh. This is humiliating.
That night was the first time I understood how easy affection could feel when nobody used it as a weapon.
Three days later, Lục Kiến Tinh appeared at the Lâm family company.
He had finally discovered another problem.
Our canceled engagement wasn’t merely personal.
His company had been negotiating a logistics partnership with the Lâm Group.
The cooperation had been encouraged because our families expected us to marry.
Now my father had suspended negotiations.
Lục Kiến Tinh confronted me in the lobby.
—Did you ask your father to cancel the contract?
—No.
That was true.
My father had simply said:
—Why should I give preferential terms to someone else’s son-in-law?
I hadn’t been able to argue.
Lục Kiến Tinh clenched his jaw.
—You knew this would happen.
—And you knew you were marrying Tô Lan.
—Those are separate matters.
—Exactly.
I smiled.
—So separate them.
Before he could respond, the elevator opened.
Thẩm Ước stepped out.
He had returned early.
Lục Kiến Tinh’s face immediately darkened.
Thẩm Ước walked directly toward me, took my suitcase from my hand and asked:
—Ready?
I nodded.
Lục Kiến Tinh stared at our wedding rings.
—Niệm Sơ.
I turned.
His voice softened for the first time.
—Do you really love him?
I thought about it.
Then answered honestly:
—I don’t know yet.
Thẩm Ước’s hand paused.
I continued:
—But I know he has respected me for ten years.
I looked at Lục Kiến Tinh.
—And you stopped respecting me the moment you became certain I would never leave.
That was enough.
Tô Lan and Lục Kiến Tinh’s marriage lasted less than a year.
I heard they argued constantly over money, housing and the years he had lost with his son.
None of that concerned me.
My own marriage began strangely.
Thẩm Ước never asked me to pretend I had loved him for ten years.
He simply said:
—Start with today.
So I did.
We dated after marrying.
Had our first real anniversary after our marriage certificate.
Argued.
Learned each other’s habits.
And, slowly, I fell in love with the man I had overlooked for years.
On our first wedding anniversary, Thẩm Ước handed me the original news article about the contract ceremony he had abandoned.
He had framed one sentence:
Love is above everything.
I laughed.
—You nearly lost a billion-yuan contract.
He shook his head.
—No.
Then he kissed my forehead.
—I almost arrived too late for something more expensive.
That morning outside the Civil Affairs Office, Lục Kiến Tinh believed I would wait while he temporarily became another woman’s husband.
He thought my love meant I would always remain available.
He was wrong.
He walked into the Civil Affairs Office with another woman believing I would still be there when he came out
He came out thirty minutes later and discovered that the woman who had waited for him for years had finally started waiting for someone else
