INTJ: Bẫy Tình Của Trai Lạnh Lùng

Forget it, I shouldn't have thought of Hứa Cao Viễn.

I shook my head, pretending I just walked in: 'Is Đa Đa awake?'

'Yeah.' Cố Tu finally looked at me, 'Why hasn't she learned to speak yet?'

I forced a smile: 'She's only one.'

Cố Tu frowned: 'I could speak many words at one.'

I choked, deflecting: 'Maybe you were just smarter.'

Cố Tu stared at Đa Đa pensively: 'So she takes after you?'

?

That sounded so wrong!

Such a broad insult!

I ignored his jab, still shaken by earlier events: 'Did you see who came today?'

'A man. Didn't seem decent.'

Being broke in this cheap apartment, I wondered why I'd be targeted.

A wild thought surfaced: 'Could it be Hứa Cao Viễn?'

But I dismissed it: 'We had an amicable divorce. He wouldn't...'

'Amicable?' Cố Tu snorted, 'Let me remind you - no amicable divorce leaves the wife penniless.'

Panic set in: 'You think it's him? I left with nothing! Why would he...'

'Not confirmed,' Cố Tu interrupted, 'But any man would rage discovering the child isn't his.'

Those words shattered my fragile composure.

Yes. The child wasn't his.

Guilt made me leave empty-handed.

I bore all the blame.

He was the victim.

But so was I.

I couldn't tell my parents, anyone. Branded an adulteress, my daughter the living proof.

Cố Tu's lips thinned: 'Sorry. Didn't mean to...'

'You spoke truth.'

I sniffed, forcing a smile: 'He won't return. Thanks for today. You should rest.'

Cố Tu laughed coldly: 'Ùa, quick to dismiss me after using my help?'

'No! It's late...'

'How will you raise Đa Đa alone?' He leaned in the doorway, piercing gaze holding mine.

'What savings do you have? Job? Who watches her when you work? Can you afford nannies? What if that man returns? I won't always be here.'

Each question stabbed like knives. I had no answers.

'Face it, Ùa. Right now, I'm your only lifeline.'

05

Next morning, Cố Tu took me to file a police report. We installed hidden cameras, then I moved into his home.

He was right - I couldn't manage alone.

I'd leave once employed.

My design degree gathered dust for three years as a housewife. In this economy, job hunting proved brutal.

Resumes vanished into void. Days passed. Despair crept in.

'A friend's ad agency is hiring. Interested?'

'Your friend?'

I wavered between hope and shame. 'Might embarrass you...'

'If not for your job hunt,' Cố Tu smirked, 'I'd think you want to stay longer.'

He grew serious: 'If you won't try, what example is that for Đa Đa?'

'But if they hire me out of pity...'

'It's a business, not charity. My name holds no weight there.'

Cố Tu coached me nightly, roleplaying as interviewer in gray loungewear that somehow radiate authority.

His rapid-fire questions left me stammering:

'Why the employment gap?'

'Can you handle late nights with a child?'

'Your designs are outdated. Respond.'

Tears welled up. Cố Tu surrendered first: 'Don't look at interviewers like that. They'll misunderstand.'

'Misunderstand what?'

He leered, rubbing hands: 'Begging for... favors.'

I flushed. He ruffled my hair: 'Relax. You'll do fine.'

On interview day, Cố Tu drove me. To my shock - I aced it.