After going on a business trip for 1 month, as soon as I got home, my husband immediately urged me to be confused: Let’s go to my room, I miss my wife so much… who suspects that it is B; i k; thud…

After going on a business trip for 1 month, as soon as I got home, my husband immediately urged me to be confused: “Let’s go back to my room, I miss my wife very much.” I smiled, I didn’t expect that hug was the beginning of a series of days I can’t forget. Because not only my husband is waiting in that house.

Saigon, in early May, the rain at the beginning of the season suddenly seemed like the mood of a woman who had just stepped out of the airport after a month of rolling around work in Hanoi. Lan pulled the suitcase, her heart was excited. Not because the project was a success—though it made her proud—but because she was finally able to return to her home. For Tuan, the man always said he loved her every night before going to bed.

Lan opened the door of the house with her fingerprint, her heart beating as fast as the first time she came to visit her lover. The two-story house is quiet, smelling of new floor cleaner. Before she had time to put down her suitcase, the sound of footsteps running sounded from the stairs.

— “I’m back, my dear wife!” — Tuan hugged Lan tightly as if he hadn’t seen her in a year. He squeezed her so tightly that he suffocated her, and then grinned:
— “Let’s go back to the room! I miss my wife so much!”

Lan laughed, nestled on her husband’s shoulder. The familiar smell of sweat, the rush of breathing, the twinkle in her eyes – all made her feel at peace. She nodded:
— “Wait for me to take a shower.”

Tuan blushed like a child, but then nodded. While Lan was taking a shower, he turned on the music and prepared a glass of orange juice on the table. Such small things seem simple, but Lan always cherishes them.

That night, the two hugged each other and slept as if they had never been apart. Tuan whispered sweet things, and Lan felt lucky. How many women out there have to carry the whole world, and she has a man who is always behind her, gentle and caring.

The next morning, Tuan got up early and made his own breakfast: fried eggs, bread, and a cup of iced milk coffee just like Lan. He said,
“Get your strength back, your wife is doing well, now let her husband serve.”

Lan smiled. It may be said that Vietnamese men are rarely romantic, but her husband is a rare exception.

But happiness, sometimes like a piece of glass—transparent, beautiful, but more fragile than ever.

Three days later, Lan found a red hair tie clipped under a pillow in the bedroom. Not hers—she didn’t use that kind, much less that color.

She picked it up and looked at it for a long time. Her heart didn’t beat hard, she wasn’t jealous, but just sank down like a sluggish piece of music. Women often have a sixth sense. Lan didn’t say anything.

That night, while she was lying on her pillow in her husband’s arms, she asked softly,
“Did anyone stop by my house while I was away?”

Tuan replied without hesitation:
— “There is Hung who borrowed the drill, who else.”

— “Yes.” – Lan smiled, light as the wind.

A week later, Lan cleaned up the closet. In the last compartment, where she used to store her winter clothes, there was a women’s scarf – Zara Goods, which was new, and smelled of Versace Bright Crystal. Not hers.

This time, her heart was throbbing. She sat on the floor, her mind spinning. She didn’t say anything to Tuan. She just quietly browsed through the security camera stored in the hard drive in the corner of the kitchen—which Tuan thought she had removed last year.

She rewinds the days when she is away from home.

And then she sees. A brown-haired, slender woman entered the house at 9 p.m. on the 15th day of her business trip. Tuan opened the door and kissed the person’s forehead. The space has no sound, but the visuals are too clear.

They went to the bedroom. The door closed.

Lan felt nauseous. She sat on the chair, her hands clenched tightly against the computer mouse. Part of her wanted to smash, scream, question. But another—colder—part is planning.

She is not the type of woman who cries and cries. She loves, but not blindly.

That night, Tuan came home late. Lan was still sitting in the kitchen, the white light shining on her expressionless face. On the table were two glasses of orange juice. A glass is poisonous.

Not deadly poison. It’s just a few drops of heavy sleeping pills that her friend – the resident doctor – used to give Lan to “sleep easily” every time she is stressed.

Tuan finished drinking and collapsed on the table after 15 minutes.

Lan took her husband’s phone. The password is the wedding day – still the same. In the “Hidden Photos” folder, there are dozens of photos of the girl, both sleeping and naked.

Lan saved it all. Then she sat and watched her husband sleep like a child.

“You don’t need to be jealous, you don’t need to cry. I’ll let you taste the rewards of this life.”

She opened the closet and put her clothes in her suitcase. But before leaving, she put the red hair tie back on the pillow. As a message.

Lan did not leave in the night. She rented a serviced apartment in District 2, leaving home at 5 a.m. when Tuan was not yet awake. The sky in Saigon is still gray, the smell of rain the day before still lingers on Nguyen Van Huong Street. Lan sat in a taxi, her hands clenched her phone – the place where all the evidence of betrayal was stored. She didn’t know if she was angry with her husband or angry with herself for trusting too much.

A few days later, Tuan called, texted, came to work, and even called Lan’s mother in the countryside, but she only sent a single message:
“Give me time.”

Lan came to Ngoc – a close friend from college, currently working in a media company. Ngoc is the type of woman who has been through, has been betrayed, has been divorced and is now living independently and confidently. When listening to Lan tell everything, Ngoc only said one sentence:

— “Whether you want to forgive or want to leave is your right. But no matter what you choose, you must be the one who takes the initiative, not be led.”

Lan nodded. She didn’t want to be a victim anymore. For a month she quietly investigated—not to make a big deal, but to understand who the person she had been living with for five years really was.

And then, a discovery that brought her to tears was not because of the pain, but because of the sourness.

That girl – who appeared on camera, named Thu – intern in Tuan’s company. Tuan is the deputy director in charge of engineering, and Thu is only 22 years old, having just graduated from school.

Lan followed the girl’s Instagram, found many “coincidental” photos in the café where Lan and Tuan used to date, there was even a photo of Tuan’s silhouette taken sideways through a glass of water. In the caption, Thu wrote:

“Waiting for you forever is just a shadow…”

Lan read it and was surprised. She suddenly understood something that hurt even more than physical betrayal: Tuan not only went to bed with other people, he also made people love him sincerely.

On the 29th day after leaving home, Lan made an appointment to meet Tuan at a café in a quiet alley on Ly Tu Trong Street. She wore a white dress, light loose hair, and didn’t wear much makeup – but her eyes were no longer the Lan of a month ago.

Tuan came, his appearance was emaciated, his clothes were wrinkled. He sat down, didn’t say anything. Wait for Lan to speak.

— “Do you love that girl?” – Lan asked, her voice calm.

Tuan didn’t expect Lan to ask so directly. He was puzzled:

— “No… It’s just a moment of weakness, and again… I’ve been gone for too long… brother… feel lonely…”

— “So if you are also weak and feel lonely for a month away from your husband, do you have the right to sleep with another man?”

Tuan stiffened his throat.

Lan pulled out a USB from her pocket and placed it on the table.

— “In this is a clip from the camera, an image from his phone, and a chat where he coaxed the girl to call him ‘husband’. I don’t want to use it. But I want you to know, I’m not stupid.”

Tuan lowered his head, his face flushed. I don’t know if it’s because of shame or anger.

Lan continued:

— “I don’t need you to get down on your knees and apologize. I just want to know: from now on, are you still worthy of being the man you choose to accompany again?”

Silent. Tuan did not answer. He just cried.

But men’s tears, for Lan now, no longer have weight.

A week later, Lan filed for divorce.

No noise. No denunciation. No jealousy.

She withdrew from the shared house, taking only her laptop, few clothes, and her pet cat. The property – the house in the common name – she did not fight. The “ex-husband” is not someone worth keeping.

Time passed. Three months later, Lan opened a small café in Thao Dien – where there is a sun-drenched courtyard and rows of pink paper climbing around the balcony. The restaurant named “After the Rain”, like her own life story – went through the storm to stand alone.

One day, Thu – the girl in the past – stopped by the shop. She wears a ao dai to work, her appearance is no longer as carefree as in the photo. Thu was accompanied by a friend. When she saw Lan, Thu’s eyes froze.

Lan nodded, smiling slightly. No bitterness, no blame.

When Thu took the coffee away, she said softly:

— “I’m sorry. I didn’t know who you were, until… It’s too late.”

Lan only replied:

— “It’s okay. Everyone has been wrong. It’s important to know how to stop before you destroy yourself.”

Thu shed tears. She bowed her head and left.

Lan looked at it, her heart was no longer angry. She knew: forgiveness was not for others, but for herself.

Later that year, Lan participated in a mentoring program for young businesswomen. During the sharing session, someone asked:

— “Have you ever experienced the biggest shock in your life?”

Lan laughed.

— “I used to think that losing a man was losing the whole world. But it turned out, it was just me finding myself again.”

Everyone applauded. Lan felt at peace in her heart.

And on the balcony, confetti are still in full bloom – as if no rain had ever passed.