Chapter 3
336 Words
The next morning, sunlight filtered through the curtains like a cruel slap. But the chill inside Tieu An remained.
Pho Trach Huy had left early. On the table, breakfast lay untouched: a cold bowl of plain porridge prepared by the housekeeper. Next to it, a note written in mechanical scrawl:
From now on, don’t appear in front of me unless necessary. Don’t interfere with my life.
No signature. No warmth. Just a sterile order.
She sat at the table, reaching for the spoon… then putting it down again.
Her first breakfast in this mansion was a silence she could barely swallow.
She wasn’t allowed to leave the house without permission. No one spoke to her. Not even the servants acknowledged her existence.
Because they all knew—she was just a “stand-in.”
Le Tieu Nhi—the real bride—had vanished just before the ceremony.
And she, the half-sister, was forced to take her place… quietly, obediently.
No dress tailored to her size. No ceremony prepared for her. Just a rushed marriage contract and a pair of eyes filled with contempt.
Tieu An didn’t blame anyone. After all, she had chosen to stay.
That afternoon, passing by the study, she overheard his voice.
On the phone. Low. Distant. But not cold.
“I’m still waiting for you… You’re the only one I’ll ever care about.”
A pause.
“Her? She means nothing. Just a doll. A placeholder. I’ll never let her into my heart.”
She stood motionless behind the door.
Each word pierced her like needles under the skin.
Pho Trach Huy had no idea…
That the replacement he loathed could bleed too.
He didn’t come home that night.
She sat at her old desk in the room, a single lamp glowing faintly.
She opened her notebook. Scribbled a few lines.
She always wrote when the emptiness threatened to drown her.
"They say being a stand-in is an easy role,
But no one warned me how cold your eyes would be…"
- Writer
