I stood before the door of room 400. The gleaming brass number 400 shone under the hallway lights like a challenge
Part 1: The Shadow on the River
The city at night donned a dazzling, deceptive splendor. Neon lights from the high-rise buildings reflected onto the gently flowing river, shattering into a thousand glittering fragments. I stood by the riverside railing, the wind whipping against my face, a biting chill, but that cold was nothing compared to the numbness spreading through my chest.
Across the paved road was the Riverside Hotel – a luxurious boutique hotel with a direct view of the river. And in one of those rooms, sparkling with warm yellow lights, my husband was there.
Just this morning, Nam had hugged and kissed me goodbye at the door. He pulled his small suitcase, sighing wearily: “This business trip to Hai Phong is very important, my dear. I’ll be gone for about three days, and when I’m done, I’ll buy you a gift.” I thoughtfully adjusted his shirt collar, reminded him to be careful on the road, and to remember to eat on time. For ten years, from humble beginnings to a comfortable life, I never doubted Nam. He was always a model husband, thoughtful and devoted to his family.
But the truth always comes out. This afternoon, while cleaning his desk, I discovered a hotel reservation at the Riverside Hotel in this city, with dates coinciding with his “business trip.” The reservation was made by Nam, but the phone number for the room was a completely unfamiliar one: Linh.
I didn’t make a scene. I didn’t call to confront him. I quietly left my child with my mother and took a taxi here at 8 pm. I stood at the cafe across the street, staring blankly as my husband’s familiar car pulled up. I saw him get out, tenderly shielding a young, slender woman in a form-fitting silk dress with an umbrella. He put his arm around her waist, a radiant smile on his face—a smile I hadn’t seen in a long time on his work-stressed face. They walked intimately into the lobby.
I had stood by the river for four hours. The river wind grew stronger, as if trying to blow away my last shred of patience and self-respect. The hands of my watch ticked slowly. 12:30. Then 12:45. As the street food vendors began to pack up, I adjusted my collar and took a deep breath. It was time to face the truth.
Part 2: The Knock at 1 AM
The Riverside Hotel was unusually quiet at night. The sound of my footsteps on the thick carpet of the hallway sounded like the choked pounding of my heart. I went past the reception desk with a clumsy lie, saying I was bringing a late-night snack for my husband, and perhaps my calm, elegant appearance didn’t arouse any suspicion.
I stood before the door of room 400. The gleaming brass number 400 shone under the hallway lights like a challenge.
It was exactly 1 AM.
I raised my hand and knocked three times decisively on the thick wooden door. Knock. Knock. Knock.
Silence for a few seconds. Then, I heard a clattering sound inside, hushed whispers, and hesitant footsteps approaching the door.
“Who’s there?” – Nam’s voice rang out, slightly hoarse and wary.
“Room service, bringing you some warm ginger tea for the night,” I changed my tone, trying to keep it as gentle as possible.
The door latch clicked open. The door creaked open a little, and Nam froze when he saw my face. The sleepy smile or wariness on his face instantly froze, replaced by utter horror. He tried to push the door shut, but I quickly wedged my shoe into the gap and pushed it open with all my might.
Room 400 was revealed, reeking of cheap perfume mixed with the smell of wine. On the large, disheveled bed, his mistress was wrapped in a duvet up to her chest, her eyes wide with fear but also a hint of defiance as she looked at me.
“An… why are you here?” Nam stammered, his face drained of color. He was wearing only shorts and a crumpled t-shirt.
I stepped into the room and slammed the door shut. The click of the lock echoed, a final punctuation mark.
“When did your Hai Phong move to the city’s riverside, Nam?” I heard my voice, even and cold like the river outside. I was surprised I didn’t cry or scream like the betrayed women I’d seen in movies. The overwhelming pain had transformed into a chilling sensation running down my spine.
“An, listen to my explanation. This was just an accident, I…” Nam lunged forward, trying to grab my hand, but I recoiled, looking at him with disgust.
“Explanation?” I chuckled, glancing at the girl on the bed. “How old is she? Is she the same age as your niece? Are you using your child’s diaper money and your parents’ support money to keep this kind of woman in a five-star hotel?”
Part 3: The Long River Flows Away
The girl on the bed began to sob, feigning distress and clinging to Nam’s arm: “Nam, I’m scared…”
The scene was so ridiculous that I burst out laughing. Nam turned to her and snapped, “Shut up!”, then turned and knelt before me. The man I had worshipped for ten years, the man who was always dignified and spoke of morality, was now kneeling at my feet, his face smeared with tears.
Sweat and tears.
“I was wrong, An. She seduced me. It was just a casual fling, I swear I never thought about leaving our family. Please think of our child, think of the past ten years we’ve spent together, and forgive me just this once!”
I looked at the man at my feet. It turned out that betrayal could take such a pathetic form. Ten years of youth, the days we spent eating instant noodles together in our dilapidated rented room, the nights I stayed up all night caring for him when he had a fever… all gone down the drain because of a “casual fling” with a middle-aged man craving something new.
I pulled a stack of papers from my bag. I had prepared them that afternoon, right after realizing the truth. It was the divorce papers, already signed.
I threw the papers onto the floor, right in front of Nam.
“Sign it. All the property, the house, and custody of the children belong to me. You can move out tomorrow with her, or whoever you want.”
“No, An! I won’t sign! I can’t lose you, lose the children!” Nam screamed, clinging tightly to my legs.
I bent down, prying his fingers off my legs one by one. My strength was strangely overwhelming at that moment, or perhaps, my resolute determination gave me the power.
“Don’t tarnish me any further, Nam. From the moment you stepped into this room, you chose to lose everything.”
I turned my back and walked away, not even glancing back at room 400. Nam’s cries and pleas were left behind the thick wooden door.
When I stepped out of the hotel lobby, the clock showed 1:30 a.m. The river wind still blew fiercely. I stood by the riverbank, taking a deep breath of the night air. Tears finally began to fall, hot and salty. I wept for ten years of my naive youth, for a belief shattered into a hundred pieces.
But when I looked at the river flowing gently outside, carrying away all the rubbish on its surface, I knew I would be like that river. I would hurt, I would continue to flow, and tomorrow, when the sun rises, I will be a completely different woman – free and never again allowing anyone to trample on my self-respect.
