The second call went unanswered.
So did the third.
By the fourth, I stopped calling.
I stood beneath the theater awning, watching couples hurry through the rain.
At exactly nine seventeen, my phone vibrated.
Tham Tri Nghien.
I answered.
“On Le, something happened.”
His voice sounded tired.
“Man Man suddenly felt unwell. I had to take her to the hospital.”
I looked at Hua Man Man’s post.
It had been uploaded eleven minutes earlier.
Two theater tickets.
Two glasses of champagne.
And in the corner of the photograph was a man’s hand.
I recognized the watch.
I had given it to him on our fifth anniversary.
“Is she all right?” I asked.
He seemed surprised by my calmness.
“She’s fine now.”
“Good.”
“Are you still at the theater?”
“No.”
Another pause.
“I’ll make it up to you.”
The same sentence.
Seven years.
He had said it so many times that I couldn’t remember when I’d stopped believing it.
“No need.”
“On Le—”
“I’m tired. Goodbye.”
I hung up.
Then I deleted the screenshot of the tickets I’d been saving for months.
Some wishes became ridiculous once the wrong person fulfilled them.
The next morning, my mother sent me an address.
“The Lam family wants to meet you before the wedding. At least have one meal together.”
This time, I agreed.
I expected an arrogant heir forced into an arranged marriage.
Instead, Lam Tu Du arrived ten minutes early.
White shirt.
Black coat.
No assistant.
No luxury car parked conspicuously outside.
He sat opposite me and poured tea.
“I heard you don’t want a long courtship.”
“Correct.”
“Neither do I.”
I looked at him.
“Why are you agreeing to marry someone you’ve never met?”
He smiled slightly.
“We have met.”
I frowned.
“Eight years ago. University library.”
I remembered nothing.
“You dropped an entire stack of books on my foot.”
I stared at him.
Then suddenly remembered a quiet senior who had helped me carry reference books upstairs.
“That was you?”
“Yes.”
“You remember that?”
“I remember you apologized seventeen times.”
For the first time in days, I laughed.
His expression softened.
Then he became serious.
“On Le, I know about Tham Tri Nghien.”
My smile faded.
“If you’re marrying me to provoke him, don’t.”
I looked directly at him.
“I’m not.”
“Good.”
Lam Tu Du placed his cup down.
“I won’t ask you to love me immediately.”
“I won’t interfere with your work.”
“And if after marriage you decide we aren’t suitable, I won’t trap you.”
I was silent.
Then he added:
“But while we’re married, I have only one requirement.”
“What?”
“Don’t let another man humiliate my wife.”
Something in my chest tightened.
Seven years with Tham Tri Nghien, and I had learned to accept neglect as maturity.
One meal with Lam Tu Du, and he spoke as if my dignity should be obvious.
I nodded.
“All right.”
Our wedding date was set twelve days later.
Coincidentally, it was the same date printed on Tham Tri Nghien and Hua Man Man’s engagement announcement.
Except three days later, their engagement became a wedding.
Apparently Hua Man Man’s father had accelerated everything.
Tham Tri Nghien didn’t tell me.
He continued coming home.
Continued leaving shirts for me to send to the cleaners.
Continued asking whether there was coffee.
Continued behaving as if I were furniture that would remain exactly where he left it.
The night before my wedding, he finally noticed the apartment looked different.
“Where are your books?”
“Packed.”
“Why?”
“I’m moving.”
His brows furrowed.
“Where?”
I folded the last sweater into my suitcase.
“Home.”
“This is your home.”
I almost laughed.
Seven years.
I had waited seven years to hear him say that.
And he said it only when I was leaving.
His phone rang.
Hua Man Man.
He immediately answered.
Her crying voice came through clearly.
“Tri Nghien, I’m scared. What if tomorrow something goes wrong?”
His expression softened.
“I’ll come over.”
He picked up his coat.
At the door, he turned toward me.
“Don’t make any decisions while you’re angry.”
I looked at him.
“Don’t worry.”
“My decision has nothing to do with anger anymore.”
He left.
The next morning, I put on my wedding dress.
My father stood outside the dressing room.
When he saw me, his eyes turned red.
“Le Le.”
“Dad.”
“If you don’t want to do this, I’ll take you home.”
I smiled.
“I know.”
That was the difference.
With Tham Tri Nghien, I had always been terrified of being abandoned.
With my family, I knew I could leave at any moment and still have somewhere to return.
Lam Tu Du arrived personally to collect me.
When I entered the wedding car, he looked at me for several seconds.
“What?”
I asked.
“You’re beautiful.”
No exaggeration.
No performance.
Just four simple words.
Then he handed me a bouquet of white roses.
“I heard you don’t like red ones.”
My fingers tightened around the flowers.
Tham Tri Nghien had given me red roses every Valentine’s Day for seven years.
I had told him countless times I preferred white.
He never remembered.
The two wedding convoys reached the hotel district from opposite directions.
And then traffic stopped.
Through the window, I saw another line of decorated cars.
Red roses covered the lead vehicle.
Someone outside shouted that two wedding parties had arrived simultaneously.
Lam Tu Du glanced through the window.
Then at me.
“Want me to ask the driver to take another entrance?”
I shook my head.
“No.”
The doors of the opposite wedding car opened.
Tham Tri Nghien stepped out.
Black suit.
Red boutonniere.
Bouquet in hand.
Guests cheered.
Then my driver opened my door.
I lifted my dress and stepped out.
Across the road, Tham Tri Nghien turned.
Our eyes met.
His entire body froze.
The bouquet slipped from his fingers.
Red roses scattered across the wet pavement.
“On Le?”
Even through the noise, I heard him.
Hua Man Man emerged from the other car.
Her smile disappeared.
Tham Tri Nghien crossed the road without looking at traffic.
He stopped directly in front of me.
“Why are you wearing a wedding dress?”
I looked at his suit.
Then at the wedding decorations behind him.
“For the same reason you are.”
His face drained of color.
“You’re getting married?”
“Yes.”
“To whom?”
A hand gently covered mine.
Lam Tu Du stepped beside me.
“To me.”
Tham Tri Nghien stared at him.
Recognition appeared immediately.
“Lam Tu Du?”
“Mr. Tham.”
Lam Tu Du nodded politely.
Tham Tri Nghien ignored him.
His eyes remained fixed on me.
“When did this happen?”
“Twelve days ago.”
“Twelve—”
His expression changed.
“You knew I was getting married?”
“Yes.”
“And you deliberately chose today?”
“No.”
I smiled faintly.
“You’re not important enough for me to arrange my wedding around yours.”
That sentence struck harder than any accusation.
Tham Tri Nghien grabbed my wrist.
“We need to talk.”
Before I could move, Lam Tu Du removed his hand.
Not violently.
Just firmly.
“Mr. Tham.”
His voice was calm.
“Please don’t touch my wife.”
“She’s not your wife yet!”
Tham Tri Nghien finally lost control.
“On Le has been with me for seven years!”
Lam Tu Du looked at me.
He didn’t answer for me.
So I did.
“I was.”
Tham Tri Nghien stared at me.
“Come home.”
“No.”
“Stop this.”
“No.”
His breathing became uneven.
“I know you’re angry about Man Man.”
Behind him, Hua Man Man’s face turned white.
“I can explain everything after today.”
I looked at him.
“After today?”
“Yes.”
“You’re about to marry another woman, and you’re telling me we’ll discuss our relationship afterward?”
For the first time, he seemed to hear how absurd it sounded.
I continued quietly.
“You said I couldn’t leave you because I had no family background and nobody behind me.”
His pupils contracted.
“You heard that?”
“Yes.”
Silence.
I smiled.
“You were wrong.”
I turned toward my parents waiting at the hotel entrance.
Then toward Lam Tu Du beside me.
“I’ve always had people behind me.”
“I was simply foolish enough to keep choosing someone who never stood beside me.”
Tham Tri Nghien’s eyes reddened.
“On Le.”
I stepped away.
Behind him, Hua Man Man suddenly called:
“Tri Nghien, the ceremony is starting!”
He didn’t turn around.
That was perhaps the cruelest irony.
For seven years, whenever Hua Man Man called, he left me behind.
But on the day he was supposed to marry her, he stood frozen in the rain watching me walk toward another man.
“On Le!”
I heard him shout.
I didn’t look back.
Lam Tu Du offered me his arm.
“You all right?”
I placed my hand through it.
“Yes.”
And strangely, I meant it.
Behind us, chaos erupted.
Guests whispered.
Hua Man Man began crying.
Tham Tri Nghien called my name again.
But the hotel doors closed.
An hour later, I stood before Lam Tu Du.
When it was time to exchange rings, he quietly asked:
“Last chance.”
I smiled.
“You really enjoy giving me escape routes.”
“I promised you wouldn’t be trapped.”
I held out my hand.
“Then stop talking and put the ring on.”
He laughed.
And he did.
Across the street, another wedding never reached the ring exchange.
Tham Tri Nghien left the ceremony before it began.
But by the time he finally understood that I really could leave him…
I already had.
