In a quiet private hospital room situated on the seventh floor, the atmosphere was unusually still. The relentless beep of the heart monitor filled the space, casting a pale white light on Hanh’s face—a woman recently operated on for thyroid cancer.
Before she had fully regained consciousness from the anesthesia, Hanh caught sight of her husband, Khai, standing beside her bed clutching a stack of papers.
“Are you awake? Good. Sign here,” he said, his tone chillingly indifferent.
Perplexed, Hanh asked, “What are… these documents?”
Khai brusquely pushed the papers toward her. “Divorce papers. I’ve already prepared them. Just sign, and it’s over.”
The shock stunned Hanh, her lips trembling yet unable to articulate words properly due to her sore throat from the surgery. Her eyes brimmed with anguish and confusion.
“Are you serious?” she whispered.
“I’m not joking,” he replied calmly, as if making an ordinary decision rather than ending the marriage they had shared for nearly a decade. “I don’t want to spend the year with a weak, sick woman anymore. I’m exhausted from carrying the burden alone. I want to pursue my true feelings.”
Although Hanh gave a faint smile, tears slipped quietly down her cheeks.
“So, you waited until I was unable to move or respond… just to force me to sign?” she asked softly.
After a pause, Khai nodded without denying it. “Don’t blame me. Eventually, this would have happened. I have someone else now. She refuses to live in the shadows any longer.”
Biting her lips, Hanh felt her heart scream far louder than the pain in her throat. Yet, instead of shouting or crying out loud, she calmly requested, “Where’s the pen?”
Khai appeared surprised. “You’re actually going to sign?”
“Didn’t you say this had to happen sooner or later?”
He handed her the pen, and with trembling hands, she slowly inscribed her name.
“Done. I wish you happiness,” she said quietly.
“Thanks. I will return your belongings as agreed. Goodbye,” Khai replied before turning and exiting the room. The door closed with an unusually soft sound.
Yet, less than three minutes later, the door opened again.
The man who entered was Dr. Quan, Hanh’s closest friend since university and the surgeon who operated on her. He carried some medical records and a bouquet of white roses.
“I heard from the nurse that Khai just came by?” he inquired.
Hanh nodded, a slight smile touching her lips. “Yes, he came to ask for a divorce.”
“And how are you feeling?”
“Better than ever,” she replied confidently.
Dr. Quan sat beside her, placed the flowers on the table, and silently handed her an envelope.
“This is a copy of the divorce documents your lawyer sent me. Remember the other day you told me: if Khai files first, give me this copy to sign.”
Without hesitation, Hanh opened it and signed her name. Then she faced Quan, her eyes brighter than before.
- “From today on, I will no longer live for anyone else.”
- “I don’t have to pretend to be a ‘good enough wife’ anymore.”
- “Nor will I fake well-being when I’m exhausted.”
“I’m here,” Quan assured her, “not to replace anyone, but to support you whenever you need me.”
Hanh gave a subtle nod, a tear falling—not from sorrow, but from relief.
One week later, Khai received an express mail package. Inside was a fully signed divorce decree accompanied by a small handwritten note:
“Thank you for deciding to leave; now I no longer have to struggle to hold onto someone who had already let go.
The one left behind isn’t me.
It’s you—who has lost forever the person who loved you with all her heart.”
At that moment, Khai realized that although he believed he held the upper hand, it was he who had been mercilessly abandoned.
In conclusion, this poignant story reveals how appearances can deceive in relationships, reminding us that true strength often lies in moving forward with dignity and self-respect. Hanh’s courage to reclaim her life illustrates the power of resilience amid betrayal. Meanwhile, Khai’s realization underscores that losing someone who truly loves you is a profound loss seldom reversed.