My grandparents celebrated the full month of the 30 million envelope, in the evening I took it out and counted it again, I decided to divorce it, it was unacceptable….

I’m a practical person. No daydreaming, no delusion, no emphasis on material things – but there are some things that, when they happen, make people’s hearts so cold that they can’t turn back. Like the 30 million envelope that my parents-in-law sent to celebrate the full month of my grandson. The envelope made me decide to divorce in the night. Not for money. But because of the way people treat each other.

My first child was born on a spring morning. I’ve never felt so happy. Since my wife became pregnant, I have been working non-stop, taking more projects home, and spending every penny to prepare for the child. My wife and I are not well-off, but we are not destitute either. I don’t mind spending money on my child, as long as everything is the best I can.

On the full moon day, my wife and I held a small party at the restaurant. A dozen tables, mainly friends, colleagues, and close relatives. Everything is taken care of by me, from booking a banquet, ordering cakes to preparing envelopes to send to guests. My wife just needs to rest and take care of my children.

I was happy to see my parents-in-law leave early, dressed politely. The grandparents were very happy, holding their hands, smiling and talking to the guests. I thought it was a beautiful day.

That evening, after seeing off the guests, I had time to sit down, open each envelope to record who sent how much. Not to compare, but to know the way and behave again later.

To the envelope of my wife’s parents, I opened it. A stack of money. Counting briefly and seeing that it is thick, I think that my grandparents must have given me about 20-30 million. It is also reasonable, because grandparents are retired cadres, not deprived.

I counted once. Then the second time. My heart sank a little.

In the envelope are 30 negative bills with a face value of 1 million VND.

The type of foil that people burn for the deceased.

I don’t know if I should laugh or be angry. At first I thought it might be a mistake – but it wasn’t. The envelope was carefully pasted, clearly inscribed: “Grandparents congratulate their grandson on the full moon. 30 million.”

I told my wife about it. She turned pale, snatched the envelope, opened it, and then… Silent.

“I guess my parents are just kidding…” – she said without daring to look me in the eye.

“What kind of joke?” – I said seriously. “It’s full of money, but what about putting negative money in an envelope, and then clearly stating 30 million? Humiliating each other?”

My wife cried. She didn’t know. Or at least that’s what she said. She said she would call her mother.

I stopped. “No need. You asked directly.”

I called my mother-in-law. She answered the phone quite quickly.

“Yes, I greet you. I would like to ask you a question… the envelope for my mother to celebrate the full month of Tin… Did you put the wrong money?”

The other party was silent for a few seconds. Then she smirked.

“What is wrong. My mother congratulated me on exactly 30 sheets. It’s just that money.”

I was stunned. “Yes? Are you telling the truth?”

“Yes, it’s true, why isn’t it? Whether that money can be used or not depends on the recipient. I think that’s reasonable. If you have good fortune and blessings, you will have real money in the future. I don’t need to make up for anything.”

At that time, I didn’t know if I was angry or sad. But I remember clearly the next sentence I said:

“Then from now on, I don’t have to worry about my wife and grandchildren anymore. I ask for permission.”

I hung up.

That night, I lay down thinking about everything in the past. It’s true that my parents-in-law have never liked me. I am a provincial resident, working as a freelance software engineer, unstable by their standards. My wife is the eldest daughter in a somewhat military city family.

Since the time of marriage, everything about marriage has been taken care of by my side. The wife’s family did not contribute much, not even a tray, with the reason that “the boy’s family is worried about tradition”. I don’t agree.

After getting married, my house was tight, we rented an inn. My parents-in-law never asked him, did not invite him home for dinner.

I still think: Well, each house has a style. I can live well.

But today, with that envelope, I can see one thing clearly: they don’t see me and my children as family members at all.

My wife sat in silence all night. I know she’s miserable. But I couldn’t be silent.

“I don’t need money. I didn’t force my grandparents to give me money. But the way grandparents behave like that is disrespectful. It is insulting. It’s excessive.”

She choked up: “I know. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t need an apology. He needs a family. But you can’t live your whole life feeling like an outsider.”

The next morning, I took my wife and children to my grandmother’s house to talk frankly. But they refused to receive me. My father-in-law said through the cracked door: “It’s very cowardly for a man to let his stomach do such trivial things.”

That night, I signed the divorce papers.

Not because of 30 million. But because I can’t accept a family, contempt is disguised under the appearance of piety and politeness.

I have no intention of taking custody of my children. When I signed the divorce papers, I thought it was best for me to stay with my mother. After all, my wife is a person who loves her children sincerely, and I have a precarious job, have to run projects, and have irregular deadlines.

But after two weeks away from my child, I started to lose sleep. I often dream of my child crying in the middle of the night, and when I wake up, the bed is empty. Several times I asked my wife to come and visit my child, she agreed, but only let me stand outside for a while and then have to go home. The reason is: “My parents don’t want me to come into the house anymore.”

I gradually understood that divorce is not the end, but just an official crack for what has been rotten for a long time.

There were nights when I sat in the middle of the motel room, looking at the small and neat house and feeling suffocated. In the past, I used to dream of having a family – not a perfect type like in movies, as long as the couple loves and takes care of their children together, it is enough.

Every time I surf the Internet, I see photos of my friends taking pictures of my children, showing off my wife cooking, I turn off my phone. I felt like a failure.

I used to think: “I did it right, I have a heart, why did I fall into this situation?”

Then I realized, in life, yes – not necessarily loved. And having a heart – doesn’t mean people will appreciate it.

Three months after the divorce, my wife suddenly called.

“You… I want to send my child to you for a while. I’m going on a business trip for a month.”

I hesitated. “Do your parents agree?”

“Nope. I’ve moved out to live separately.”

I was silent. She recounted that after the envelope, she began to see clearly how her parents treated others—not just me. She saw that they also behaved badly with their younger brother, with the maid, with their friends… She realized, growing up in the cold, she thought it was normal.

“You’re right. They never saw him as a person in the house. But I… I’m wrong for letting you suffer alone.”

I took my child home. A short month became the days when I felt like I was coming back to life.

In the morning, I get up to make milk, change diapers, and struggle to carry my child for a walk around the apartment complex. In the evening, I work while watching my child sleep. One day I had a slight fever, and I stayed up all night. It’s hard, but I’ve never seen myself “being a dad” so clearly.

Once, while changing diapers, he held my hand tightly. Looking at his face was red and pink, crying oe oe, I laughed, then… burst into tears.

I don’t care what others think anymore. All I knew was that this boy was my flesh and blood, the only thing left of the wreckage.

At the end of the month, my wife came to pick up the child. She brought a bag and put it on the table.

“For the time being, you should still stay with me. I went to work again, not stable. You’re better than I thought.”

I didn’t say anything. She handed me a piece of paper.

Child custody transfer certificate.

I was shocked. “I… Are you sure?”

“Yes, but I’ll visit you often. And… this too.”

She handed me an envelope. This time, it was real money – exactly 30 million.

I laughed. “Are you giving me back the old story?”

She looked at me. “Nope. I just want to redeem part of what my parents did. And… If I had been brave enough to stand by you that day, my family would have been different.”

I didn’t receive the money. But I understand, it’s no longer about money—it’s a way for her to apologize, as someone who has chosen to remain silent.

A year after the divorce, I lived with my child, renting a smaller apartment, near the park for my child to play. I learned how to cook, know how to make milk without clotting, how to handle it when my child coughs at night.

My ex-wife and I now no longer have resentment. She is still the mother of my child. Every week he still visits, sometimes he stays to eat. We are two adults who have understood: not everyone is brave enough to preserve a marriage – but can be kind to each other after a breakup, for the sake of the child.

Parents-in-law? I have never called to ask about him.

But I’m not sad anymore.

That 30 million-year-old envelope – was a slap in the face for me to wake up from my delusions.

Not for me to hate – but for me to know who is worth keeping, who should let go.