I looked at the man in front of me.
Three years ago, hearing those words would have terrified me.
Now I only felt tired.
Co Than released my chin.
—Did you hear me?
I nodded.
—Perfectly.
Then I stood.
He glanced at the suitcase beside the stairs.
His expression darkened.
—Where are you going?
—My mother’s house.
—Because of tonight?
I almost laughed.
Ten public slaps.
Three years of humiliation.
Countless nights spent waiting for a husband who openly protected another woman.
And he called it “tonight.”
—Yes.
He scoffed.
—Fine. Go calm down for a few days.
I picked up my suitcase.
As I passed him, he added:
—When you’ve finished your tantrum, come home yourself. Don’t expect me to pick you up.
I stopped.
—Don’t worry.
I looked back at him.
—You won’t need to pick me up again.
He didn’t understand.
He wouldn’t until the next morning.
At eight thirty, Co Than entered the company.
Lieu Y Y followed behind him carrying coffee.
When they passed the project department, his eyes automatically moved toward my desk.
Empty.
He slowed down.
My computer was gone.
The little cactus beside my monitor was gone.
Even the photograph of my parents had disappeared.
He frowned.
—Where is To Tham?
Nobody answered immediately.
Finally, the team leader said:
—Ms. To isn’t coming today.
—Why?
—She requested leave.
His expression relaxed slightly.
Of course.
He probably thought I was hiding at home waiting for him to apologize.
—How long?
The team leader checked the system.
—One month.
Co Than stopped.
—One month?
He immediately called human resources.
The manager answered nervously.
—President Co?
—Who approved To Tham’s month-long leave?
—It was submitted several weeks ago.
Several weeks.
His fingers tightened around the phone.
—Reason?
The HR manager hesitated.
Then answered:
—Marriage leave and personal leave.
Silence.
Co Than’s voice dropped.
—Say that again.
—Ms. To Tham said she’s getting married.
The coffee slipped from Lieu Y Y’s hand.
The cup struck the floor.
Co Than didn’t even look at her.
—Impossible.
Everyone nearby heard him.
The HR manager became even more nervous.
—But the application clearly says—
—She’s already married.
Another silence.
Then the manager carefully asked:
—President Co… married to whom?
That question hit harder than anything else.
Because nobody knew.
For three years, he had insisted our marriage remain secret.
He said announcing it would create favoritism rumors.
I agreed.
So inside his own company, nobody knew that the woman publicly slapped on his orders the previous night…
was his wife.
Co Than drove home immediately.
The villa was empty.
My clothes were gone.
My documents were gone.
The wedding photograph hidden in our bedroom drawer was gone.
On the dining table sat three things.
My wedding ring.
A lawyer’s card.
And proof that I had filed for divorce weeks earlier.
The date was before the year-end party.
His face changed.
I had not decided to leave because of the ten slaps.
Those ten slaps had merely ensured I would never reconsider.
His phone rang.
His mother.
—Than, why didn’t you tell me To Tham was divorcing you?
He went rigid.
—How do you know?
—Because her lawyer contacted the family attorney!
Then his mother said something that made his blood run cold.
—And what is this nonsense about you ordering security guards to hit your wife in front of your employees?
He said nothing.
—Co Than!
—There was a misunderstanding.
—Ten times?
Her voice rose.
—What misunderstanding requires ten slaps?
He closed his eyes.
For the first time, perhaps, he saw the scene from outside himself.
Me standing alone.
Lieu Y Y in his arms.
Hundreds of employees watching.
And his own voice ordering:
“Enough for ten.”
Then paying one million yuan as though dignity had a price.
His mother asked:
—Where is To Tham now?
He looked at the leave application still displayed on his phone.
Getting married.
—I don’t know.
He found me three days later.
I was leaving a bridal boutique.
My cheek was still faintly marked.
Beside me stood a tall man in a dark coat.
Co Than slammed the car door.
—To Tham!
I stopped.
The man beside me frowned.
Co Than’s eyes moved to the garment bag in my hand.
—You’re really getting married?
—Yes.
His face became terrifying.
—To whom?
The man beside me answered calmly:
—Me.
Co Than stared at him.
Then recognition appeared.
—Tran Minh?
Tran Minh was the heir to one of the company’s largest investment partners.
More importantly, he had been my childhood friend.
Co Than stepped toward me.
—You’re doing this to punish me.
I smiled.
—You think very highly of yourself.
—We aren’t even divorced yet!
—The proceedings began weeks ago.
His eyes widened.
—Weeks?
—Yes.
I had made my decision after discovering that Lieu Y Y had been taking credit for another project I designed.
When I confronted Co Than, he told me:
“Y Y needs the opportunity more than you.”
That night, something inside me finally ended.
My parents had already arranged for me to take a long leave once the divorce process reached its final stage.
As for the marriage leave?
I looked at Tran Minh.
Then laughed.
—I’m not marrying him.
Co Than froze.
Tran Minh sighed dramatically.
—Thank heaven. My girlfriend would object.
For the first time, confusion completely replaced Co Than’s arrogance.
—Then why did HR say—
—Because I’m attending a wedding overseas and HR entered the leave category incorrectly when combining my approved leave requests.
His expression shifted.
Relief.
Actual relief.
I watched it appear.
Then destroyed it.
—But don’t misunderstand.
I removed my wedding ring from my bag.
—I may not be marrying someone else.
I placed it in his palm.
—But I’m still divorcing you.
His fingers closed around the ring.
—To Tham—
—And the million yuan?
I continued.
—I donated it.
His face changed.
—What?
—To an organization supporting women facing workplace harassment.
Tran Minh looked away to hide a smile.
I met my husband’s eyes.
—Your money paid for something useful after all.
The company investigation began while I was away.
Co Than’s father ordered it.
The banquet’s security footage was preserved.
So were the records showing that Lieu Y Y had repeatedly taken credit for work completed by other employees.
Then came something worse.
The footage showed clearly that I had never pushed her.
Lieu Y Y had stumbled deliberately after checking whether Co Than was watching.
When he confronted her, she cried.
—Boss, I only wanted you to defend me.
—So you lied?
—I love you!
He stared at her.
For years, those tears had controlled him.
This time, he only asked:
—And To Tham?
Lieu Y Y went silent.
He finally understood.
The problem had never been that he trusted Lieu Y Y too much.
The problem was that he trusted his wife too little.
Lieu Y Y was dismissed.
The two security guards were not blamed; the investigation found they had acted under direct pressure from the company president. Co Than personally apologized to them.
Then he called a company-wide meeting.
He stood on the same stage where I had been humiliated.
And publicly admitted:
—The employee I punished at the year-end party was my wife.
The hall exploded in whispers.
He continued:
—She did not push Secretary Lieu. I ordered punishment without verifying what happened.
He paused.
—That decision was mine. The responsibility is mine.
For once, he didn’t use money to solve it.
But accountability arrived too late to save our marriage.
A month later, I returned.
Not as his wife.
Only to complete my resignation.
Co Than waited beside my desk.
—Do you have to leave the company too?
—Yes.
—I can transfer you.
—No.
—I can leave instead.
I looked at him in surprise.
The old Co Than would never have said that.
He continued:
—I know saying sorry isn’t enough.
—You’re right.
His eyes reddened slightly.
—Is there really no chance?
I remembered the banquet.
But strangely, I wasn’t angry anymore.
—Do you know what hurt most?
He remained silent.
—It wasn’t the first slap.
—It was that after every one, I kept looking at you.
His face went pale.
—I was waiting for you to stop it.
I smiled sadly.
—You never did.
He lowered his head.
That was the answer.
Our divorce became final two months later.
I joined another company.
My career recovered faster than I expected.
Co Than sent no flowers.
No jewelry.
No million-yuan transfers.
Perhaps he finally understood that money had never been what I wanted.
A year later, we met at an industry conference.
He approached me after my presentation.
—You did well.
—Thank you.
He hesitated.
—Are you married?
I laughed.
—Still obsessed with HR’s mistake?
For the first time, he smiled too.
—Maybe.
I shook my head.
—No.
Hope briefly appeared in his eyes.
I pretended not to see it.
Being single did not mean I was waiting for him.
Before leaving, he said:
—To Tham, I’m sorry.
This time there was no audience.
No secretary.
No money.
Just an apology.
I nodded.
—I know.
Then I walked away.
The night he ordered ten slaps, Co Than believed one million yuan could settle the matter.
He was wrong.
The money could be transferred back.
Bruises could fade.
A secretary could be fired.
Even a public humiliation could eventually become yesterday’s news.
But there was one thing he could never purchase again.
The woman who had once loved him enough to endure almost anything.
Because after the tenth slap, she finally understood:
A marriage isn’t saved by how much humiliation you can survive.
Sometimes the only way to save yourself…
is to stop surviving it.
