That morning, Hanoi was wrapped in a curtain of misty rain. The sky was gray, heavy, as though it carried a secret sorrow. Huong — eight months pregnant — carefully put on her old cloth hat, held her swollen belly, and slowly made her way to the market.
Tuan, her husband, had told her he had an important meeting. Huong didn’t complain, though her heart sank a little. With only a few weeks until her due date, she still had to pick out every tiny item for the baby herself — diapers, powder, bottles. Alone.
The market was noisy and crowded. Huong moved cautiously, her steps heavy but steady. She had just finished choosing some things when suddenly… a familiar voice rose above the chatter.
Her heart skipped. It was Tuan.
Huong turned — and froze.
There he was, her husband, walking hand in hand with a young woman in a short skirt and high heels. The girl’s laughter was bright, her tone sweet.
— “What do you want to eat? I’ll buy you anything.”
— “No, I shouldn’t eat too much… I’ll get fat.”
— “Even if you gain weight, I’ll still love you.”
They laughed together, their eyes sparkling with intimacy.
Huong’s body went rigid, her soul hollowed out. From a distance, she watched the man she trusted with her life tenderly caring for someone else. She didn’t cry, didn’t scream. Her silence was heavier than any tears.
Taking out her phone, she typed calmly:
“I just saw you at the market. I’m exhausted, should’ve taken a taxi earlier. As for you… keep playing your role until the end.”
She sent it. Then switched her phone off.
At that very moment, Tuan was smiling when his phone buzzed. He read the message, and his face drained of color. His laughter died. He dropped the girl’s hand, frantically scanning the crowd.
“What’s wrong?” the girl asked.
“Huong… she’s here…” he muttered, panicked.
But Huong was already gone. Her swollen belly weighed her steps, but her eyes stayed dry. Her heart, though, was collapsing inward, suffocated by a pain too deep for words.
Back home, she didn’t go upstairs. She went straight to the kitchen and laid out everything she had bought: a tiny blue baby coat, little woolen socks, a box of talcum powder, a bottle of milk. One by one, like knives stabbing her chest.
She remembered the lonely nights of pregnancy while he claimed to work late. The endless hospital visits where she sat alone, waiting. The cold distance in his eyes.
So it hadn’t been her imagination. It was another woman.
An hour later, Tuan returned, face stricken. He saw her sitting in silence, back turned.
“Huong… I’m sorry,” he said, his voice shaking.
“Sorry for what?” she asked evenly. “For your meeting?”
“I was wrong. She doesn’t mean anything. I never wanted to leave you. I didn’t think you’d find out—”
“And if I hadn’t? How long would you have kept lying?”
Huong rose to her feet, her calm terrifying.
“I don’t need you to leave her. I don’t need you to choose. I’ve already decided.”
“Huong, please… I was wrong…”
“The child I’m carrying doesn’t need a deceitful father. And I don’t need a faithless husband.”
She placed a set of papers on the table.
“These are divorce papers. Read them carefully and sign. I want nothing — only the child. And peace.”
Tuan slumped into a chair, his head in his hands. He had always thought his gentle, obedient wife would forgive him, beg him to stay, shed tears. But her eyes now… were steel.
“Do you still love me?” he whispered.
“Perhaps I once loved you deeply. But the moment I saw you holding her hand at the market… my heart stopped loving you.”
It was the final verdict. No yelling, no tears. Just a quiet, devastating end.
Months later, Huong gave birth to a healthy baby boy. Her days were filled with diapers, lullabies, and rebuilding her life. Slowly, her smile returned — not the old smile, but a new one: calm, proud, untethered.
Every so often, Tuan appeared at her door, gifts in hand, regret clouding his eyes. But the door never opened.
The story ended there — with a woman once thought fragile, who found the strength to walk away, to let go, and to live for the ones who deserved it most: herself and her child.
This isn’t just a story of betrayal. It’s a reminder: women may endure, may sacrifice, but once their love is gone, they can be stronger than anyone ever imagined.
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