For the sixth time, my husband publicly said he regretted marrying me.
And for the sixth time, everyone waited for me to smile and pretend nothing happened.
But this time…
I didn’t.
Because at that moment, I heard something break.
Not my marriage.
Not my heart.
My self-respect.
The family banquet continued around me.
The crystal lights above reflected beautifully on the expensive dishes, the wine glasses, and the smiling faces of relatives who had no idea they had just witnessed the end of something.
Lam Than was still standing.
His cheeks were red from alcohol.
His voice carried the confidence of a man who believed he had the right to say anything because he was loved too much to lose anything.
“The elders are all here today.”
He raised his glass.
“I, Lam Than, have only one thing I don’t regret in my life.”
Everyone looked at him.
“Building my career.”
Some people nodded.
They admired him.
After all, he was now the successful president of a company that many people respected.
The same company that would never have reached that height without the connections and resources my family gave him.
But no one mentioned that.
Because everyone loved a story where a poor man became successful through his own effort.
No one wanted to admit that behind every successful man, sometimes there was a woman quietly holding everything together.
Lam Than smiled.
Then his eyes moved toward me.
“And as for…”
He paused deliberately.
The entire room became quiet.
I already knew what was coming.
My fingers slowly loosened.
“The thing I regret the most…”
His smile widened.
“Is marrying On Du.”
The words fell.
Again.
Just like every other time.
But strangely…
I didn’t feel the pain anymore.
Perhaps because a wound repeated too many times eventually stops bleeding.
Everyone froze.
Someone coughed awkwardly.
An aunt quickly touched Lam Than’s arm.
“Enough, you’re drunk.”
But he laughed.
“Why? I’m just telling the truth.”
He pointed toward me.
“Her family has money, yes.”
“But money doesn’t mean everything.”
“Do you know how difficult it is to live with her?”
“Her personality…”
He shook his head.
“If I had known earlier, I really shouldn’t have…”
The rest disappeared.
The sound around me became distant.
Like I was underwater.
I saw people looking at me.
Some embarrassed.
Some sympathetic.
Some curious.
Those eyes once would have destroyed me.
Today…
they didn’t.
Because suddenly, I remembered something.
Three years ago.
The day I married him.
I was twenty-seven years old.
I already owned a villa in the most valuable area of the city.
A detached house.
A golden ginkgo tree in the yard.
Every autumn, the leaves turned bright yellow.
It was the kind of home many people spent their entire lives dreaming about.
But when I married Lam Than, I never used those things to make him feel inferior.
I didn’t ask for a bride price.
I didn’t ask him to add my name to any property.
I even agreed to hold a simple wedding according to his family’s budget.
Because I loved him.
I believed love meant building something together.
I believed a man’s pride should be protected.
So I hid my background.
I learned to shop for groceries.
I learned to cook dishes he liked.
I learned every detail about his family’s habits.
I even used my family’s connections to introduce him to important partners.
A small company became a growing business.
A struggling businessman became a respected entrepreneur.
Everyone said:
“Lam Than is incredible.”
I smiled.
Because I knew how hard he worked.
I never wanted the world to know how much I helped.
Because I loved him.
I thought one day…
he would know.
One day, he would look back and understand.
But I was wrong.
Because some people don’t see your sacrifice.
They only see the results.
And eventually…
they start believing they created everything alone.
Lam Than finally sat down.
Everyone expected me to argue.
To cry.
To defend myself.
The old On Du would have.
The old me would have gone home and spent the entire night asking:
“Did I do something wrong?”
“Was I not gentle enough?”
“Was I not a good wife?”
But that woman was exhausted.
She had been apologizing for existing for too long.
I quietly took out my phone.
Opened the chat with Lawyer Tran.
My fingers moved calmly.
No hesitation.
No anger.
Just certainty.
“Lawyer Tran, please come tomorrow.”
I paused.
Then added:
“I want to recover the villa. It was my pre-marital property.”
A few seconds later, another message.
“Yes. Immediately.”
I pressed send.
And for the first time in years…
I felt free.
When the banquet ended, Lam Than didn’t notice anything.
He still smiled.
Still accepted compliments.
Still shook hands with relatives.
He probably thought tonight was like every other time.
He hurt me.
I endured.
Tomorrow I would forgive.
Because that was the pattern.
Until it wasn’t.
When we arrived home, he threw his jacket onto the sofa.
“Why were you so quiet today?”
I looked at him.
“Was I?”
His eyebrows frowned.
“You know I was just drinking.”
I nodded.
“Yes.”
He walked closer.
“Don’t tell me you’re angry about that.”
I looked around our house.
The furniture.
The paintings.
The decorations.
Everything.
Most of it had been chosen by me.
Paid for by me.
Built from the foundation I gave him.
But somehow…
I was still the person he regretted marrying.
“No.”
My answer surprised him.
“I’m not angry.”
“Then what?”
I smiled.
A very calm smile.
“I’m tired.”
He froze.
Perhaps because he had never heard me say that before.
Not “I’m sad.”
Not “I’m disappointed.”
Not “I’m hurt.”
Just tired.
The kind of tired that means someone has already made a decision.
“On Du.”
His voice softened.
“What are you talking about?”
I walked past him.
“The villa will be transferred back.”
His expression changed.
“What?”
“My lawyer will contact you.”
The silence was immediate.
For the first time…
Lam Than looked afraid.
“Wait.”
He grabbed my wrist.
“Why are you talking about the villa?”
I looked at his hand.
Then at his face.
Slowly, he released me.
Because he saw something in my eyes.
Something he had never seen before.
I wasn’t asking him to love me anymore.
I wasn’t waiting for him to choose me.
I had already chosen myself.
“Because it’s mine.”
Three words.
But they hit harder than any argument.
Lam Than stared at me.
“But we’re married.”
I smiled.
“Yes.”
A pause.
“And you spent tonight reminding everyone how much you regret that.”
His face turned pale.
“Maya…”
I shook my head.
“Don’t.”
The nickname he used when he wanted to soften me suddenly sounded unfamiliar.
“You taught everyone tonight that I was a burden.”
I picked up my bag.
“So I’m making sure you no longer have to carry one.”
Then I walked upstairs.
Leaving him standing alone in the living room.
For the first time in three years…
Lam Than didn’t know how to stop me.
The next morning, the first call came.
Not from him.
From his mother.
“On Du, what happened?”
I calmly drank my coffee.
“What do you mean?”
“Than said you want the villa back.”
“Yes.”
“But why?”
I looked outside the window.
At the ginkgo tree.
The tree I planted before marriage.
The tree that had watched me cry countless nights.
“Because it belongs to me.”
His mother became silent.
Then her voice changed.
“You can’t destroy your family because of one sentence.”
I smiled faintly.
“One sentence?”
I looked at the clock.
“Mother, he said it six times.”
Silence.
This time, she had nothing to say.
Because even she knew.
The problem was never one sentence.
It was six chances.
And I had already given all of them.
That afternoon, Lam Than finally came home early.
He stood at the doorway.
His expression was different.
No arrogance.
No pride.
Only panic.
“On Du.”
I looked up.
“Yes?”
He hesitated.
Then said the words I had waited years to hear.
“I’m sorry.”
But strangely…
my heart didn’t move.
Because apologies are powerful only before someone gives up.
After that…
they are just echoes.
“Than.”
He looked at me.
“I loved you.”
His eyes reddened.
“I know.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“You loved having me.”
The sentence made him freeze.
“You loved that I supported you.”
“You loved that I understood you.”
“You loved that no matter what you said, I stayed.”
I stood up.
“But you never loved enough to protect me.”
The room became silent.
Lam Than finally understood.
The woman standing before him was still the same woman.
But she was no longer his.
And that was the moment he realized…
losing me was not something that happened today.
He had been losing me every time he chose to hurt me.
Today was simply the day I stopped trying to save what he had already destroyed.
