Now, when darkness covers her eyes, she is clearer than ever.

The living room in Hung’s house glowed with warm yellow light. On the sofa, a well-dressed man held a young woman tightly, whispering sweet words. The two clung to each other shamelessly—even though right in front of them, on the opposite chair, a woman sat silently.

That woman was Mai—Hung’s wife.

Mai’s eyes were quiet, without sight. Ever since the accident three years ago, she had lost her vision, forced to live in darkness. Because of this, Hung grew bolder, openly bringing his mistress home, certain that his blind wife could see nothing and do nothing.

“Darling, I’m scared. What if she finds out?” the mistress murmured into Hung’s chest, her voice trembling, though her eyes glimmered with triumph.

Hung chuckled:
“Find out what? She has no eyes to see. She’s just a useless blind woman. She should be grateful I provide for her.”

Those words pierced Mai’s heart like a knife. She remained silent, her fingers gripping the hem of her dress until her nails dug deep into her skin. Yet her face stayed calm—no tears, no outbursts.

For the past three years, Hung had changed completely. Once a gentle husband, he became domineering and contemptuous. He forbade Mai from managing finances, seizing full control of the company and assets. He believed blindness made her useless, incapable of handling money. But Hung never knew—Mai came from a family of successful entrepreneurs, her mind sharp and strategic. She had only stepped back out of love for him.

Now, with darkness covering her eyes, she saw more clearly than ever.

That night, after his mistress left, Hung sneered at his wife:
“Don’t pretend to be noble. Who I’m with is my choice. You’re blind, so just mind your own business. As for this fortune—it’s mine. Don’t even think about touching it.”

Mai stayed still, smiling faintly:
“Don’t worry, I never thought of competing with you. But I hope you remember—what doesn’t truly belong to you will eventually slip away.”

Her words made Hung frown, but he dismissed them and arrogantly strode into the bedroom, leaving his wife in the vast, empty room.

But Mai wasn’t as alone as Hung thought. After the accident, she had hired a personal assistant—Linh—both a friend and her eyes. Through Linh, Mai quietly tracked Hung’s every move: his affairs, his shady business deals.

In truth, the entire company under Hung’s name was built with Mai’s family’s capital. Her parents had entrusted her with ownership long ago. Out of trust, she let Hung run it. Legally, he was only a representative; ownership still belonged to Mai. Blinded by greed, Hung never paid attention.

Mai had been silent long enough.

Three months later, Hung prepared to sign a massive contract with foreign partners worth hundreds of billions. Elated, he celebrated daily with his mistress, while Mai and Linh quietly set their decisive move.

The night before the signing, Mai asked Linh to open the laptop and read every clause. Then she smiled calmly:
“Tomorrow, I’ll come along.”

The next morning, when Hung entered the meeting room with the partners, he was stunned to see Mai walk in—elegant in her dress, accompanied by her personal lawyer.

“What is this? Why are you here?” Hung snapped.

Mai tilted her head, her voice gentle yet firm:
“I am the legal owner of this company. This contract needs my signature to take effect.”

Hung froze. The partners exchanged glances, whispering. Mai’s lawyer produced documents proving her ownership. Everything was legal, undeniable.

Mai smiled as she signed. Then her voice turned cold:
“Unfortunately, I’ve decided not to proceed with this partnership. The company will shift its investments. Hung, from today, you no longer have authority here.”

The news spread like wildfire. The partners withdrew, shareholders turned their backs. Hung was ousted from the company, stripped of all power overnight.

He roared in despair:
“Mai! How dare you betray me?”

Mai calmly replied:
“You betrayed me first. I’m only reclaiming what’s mine.”

Her words rang like the final toll of a broken marriage.

But the tragedy didn’t end there.

Hung’s mistress, who thought him wealthy, fled the moment she learned of his downfall—taking with her what little money he had lavished on her. Hung was left alone in the vast, empty house.

A week later, the bank sent foreclosure papers. He had mortgaged the house for risky investments. Everything collapsed like a storm.

Meanwhile, Mai left that house behind. She moved into a modest apartment with Linh, beginning anew. She felt no joy, no triumph—only peace.

One evening, Linh asked:
“Do you regret it? You still love him.”

Mai shook her head with a sad smile:
“I do love him, but I cannot forgive. Losing my sight wasn’t the tragedy—losing his humanity was. He chose betrayal; I chose to save myself.”

Outside the window, the sunset painted the sky red. In the darkness, Mai still held her head high.

Hung, once rich and arrogant, was now destitute. Every night, he drank heavily, haunted by the memory of holding his mistress in front of his wife. What he thought was triumph had been the beginning of his ruin.

The once-proud man became nothing but a broken shadow, wandering in loneliness.

Mai, on the other hand, was reborn through suffering. Though her eyes could no longer see, her heart was brighter than anyone’s.

The End
A marriage destroyed, a fortune lost—all because of arrogance and betrayal.
Hung paid the price for his greed and cruelty.
Mai walked out of the darkness, proving the truth of one saying:
“One can be blind in sight, but never in wisdom or dignity.”