Chapter 7 - The Aftermath
The days that followed were marked by a strange, beautiful peace.
The locksmith arrived promptly at eight o'clock the next morning, replacing every exterior lock on the house with high-security deadbolts that required biometric verification and physical keys that could not be duplicated without my explicit authorization. When my mother tried to use her master key later that afternoon, expecting to walk in and demand an explanation or an apology, the key turned uselessly in the cylinder.
Through the peephole, I watched her stand on the porch, staring at the brass handle in sheer disbelief. She tried knocking—first politely, then furiously, hammering her fists against the wood and screaming my name.
I didn't open the door. I didn't even get up from the kitchen table where I was helping Clara feed Frederick his morning cereal.
"She's not going away easily," Clara said, though her voice was steady, free of the fear that used to haunt her whenever my mother’s name was mentioned.
"Let her stay out there," I replied, spooning a bit of banana puree into my son's mouth. "Mr. Hoang filed the formal restraining order this morning. If she comes within five hundred yards of this property again, the police won't just take documents—they'll take her to jail."
True to form, my mother didn't go quietly. Over the next week, my phone was bombarded with frantic text messages, tearful voice notes, and vicious accusations. She claimed she was homeless, starving, and sick—lies easily disproven by the fact that her rental condo was still generating fifteen million dong a month and her personal bank accounts were still padded with years of my savings.
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When she realized guilt and manipulation no longer worked, she sent Aunt Linda to our house as an emissary. Aunt Linda stood at our front gate, screeching through the iron bars about filial piety, family honor, and the wrath of ancestors. Clara simply walked out onto the lawn, picked up the garden hose, and turned it on. Aunt Linda fled down the street, shrieking curses that had the neighbors peeking through their curtains with undisguised amusement.
We didn't care about the gossip. For the first time since our wedding day, Clara and I were living entirely on our own terms.
