The day I married Tuan, everyone told me I was happy. He was the eldest son of a famous family in the countryside, his parents were in business, many siblings, each with their own job. I was just an ordinary woman, not rich, powerful, just gentle, hardworking. In the early years, I lived wholeheartedly for my husband and his family. The money he earned was in his hands, completely trusting him.
But I increasingly realized that my husband’s family did not consider me a member of the family. From small things to big things, I was pushed aside. They saw me as a tool to make money, and every decision revolved around their “clan”. Tuan gradually changed, became cold, or traveled for a long time without telling him where he was going.
Until one day, I heard my mother-in-law call on the phone. Her voice was full of pride:
“I’m about to give birth, the whole family is in the room. The other girl is obedient, suffering hardships. It’s so different from the things there.”
I was dumbfounded. “That woman” was the third person. It turned out that my husband had brought his wife to Saigon, rented a luxurious house for her to give birth. Not only that, the husband’s entire family – from parents, brothers, and fiancée – followed one after another, ten people in total, taking turns serving, considering it an important event.
I, my wife, was left behind, no one was looking at me.
I didn’t cry, I didn’t fight. I understood, when the whole family agreed to protect the wrong thing, even if I shouted, it would just be a joke. I chose to remain silent – but in my heart I had a plan.
My husband’s family relies on a three-story house in the middle of the street – both for living and renting the ground floor for business. In the papers of the old house, out of trust, Tuan allowed me to be a co-owner. For a long time, I didn’t care, I considered it normal. But now, this is the key to changing everything.
I quietly collected evidence of Tuan’s infidelity: photos, messages, hotel bills, money transfer papers for the wives. I organized everything carefully, not missing a single detail. Then I went to a lawyer. He looked at the file and said directly:
“I have enough reasons to divorce and ask for division of property. In this house, you can ask for full authority.”
I smiled. I don’t need to be noisy, I just need the law on my side.
While my wife’s entire family was enjoying themselves in Saigon, waiting for the baby to be born, I filed a lawsuit. Since they were not there, all the paperwork had been filed properly, but no one was there to protest. After a few months, the final verdict was made: the house belonged to me in its entirety.
The day they returned, carrying the baby boy with his arm under their armpit, their faces happy to hug the little boy, they thought they were returning to their familiar home. But in front of the door, there was a sign that said “This house no longer belongs to Mr. Tuan’s family”. They were stunned, they called me, shouted, cursed at me. I only replied curtly:
“It’s all legal. I have given up too much. From now on, I have nothing to do with you.”
The entire family of ten, who had once proudly looked up to me, now had nothing to do, nowhere to stay. They had to squeeze into a small rented motel room in the suburbs. Voices of resentment rang out in the same rented house: she blamed me, my father scolded my mother, I was angry with my eldest brother. The newborn baby cried bitterly in the chaos.
As for me, I moved into a new apartment and started my life anew. I held no grudges, nor did I have to retaliate. It was just that they pushed me out of my family with my own hands, and I chose to leave quietly – and take the roof off the house they had once been proud of.
Every time I think about it, I feel a sense of relief. My silence once made them despise me, but that silence was the sharpest knife. They lost everything—not because I bothered, but because I knew how to wait for the right moment to take a decisive step.
My story has no tragic cries, no loud jealousy. There is only one clear truth: whoever sows the wind will reap the storm. And now, they must learn to live with homelessness—the result of their own selfishness and betrayal.