Every morning, at exactly 4 o’clock, when the streets were still sleepy in a thin layer of fog, I hurriedly took my bike out of the alley, carrying a basket to the slaughterhouse to get meat. Cold sweat ran down my back because of the fog, and hot sweat dripped from my forehead onto the pork because of the burden of making a living.

My husband, Long, always sleeps soundly until 10am. The only thing he does during the day is to get up, cook, clean the house, and then… hug his phone. I spoke softly many times, and sometimes yelled at him, but he just smiled faintly: “The money you earn is the whole family’s money, why do you need me to go out?”

I compressed.

But by that morning, I couldn’t hold it in any longer.

I was preparing the meat on the tray when Ms. Huong, a neighbor who was famous for being talkative, came riding her bike aggressively, her face full of murderous intent. Without even saying hello, she thrust a black plastic bag into my hand. Before I could understand what was going on, she growled:

– You should teach this kind of man a lesson! He’s already exposing the whole neighborhood in the morning!

I flipped open the bag, then froze.

Inside were… women’s panties. Lots of them. All kinds. Lace, fishnet, thongs…

Ms. Huong looked at me as if I was an accomplice to a crime:

– You should check your husband. The girls staying at the end of the alley are all excited. One of them said that her underwear was lost outside, thinking it was blown away by the wind, but this morning she caught “your husband Long” sneaking around in the alley!

I felt like I was on fire. I ignored the meat tray and the noisy customers and ran home, each step hitting the tiled floor like a war drum. In my mind, the image of my husband sleeping soundly every morning suddenly became a hideous mask.

The door was ajar. I kicked it open.

Mr. Long was sitting… folding clothes. Calmly.

I threw my bag on the ground.

– What are you doing? Are you human?

Mr. Long looked up, not angry, not surprised. He just silently pointed towards the bedroom.

– Come in and see.

I rushed in. The half-closed door opened to reveal… a girl. Skinny, messy hair, bewildered eyes. It was none other than Mai, my younger sister, who had been missing for three years.

I collapsed.

Mr. Long walked in, put his hand on my shoulder, and said in a low voice:

– I hid it from you. Mai was kidnapped, I followed the clues for two years to find her. She was forced to do dirty things. Those clothes… are from that place. I sacrificed many things to help her escape.

I trembled:

– But… the neighbors said you stole women’s things…?

Mr. Long smiled faintly:

– I admit it. It’s better to let them think I’m a pervert than to let them suspect her. I need time to hide Mai, wait for the traffickers to leave. Today was the day I was going to tell the truth. But… it was too early.

I was stunned. In my mind I saw me cursing and kicking the door while the man silently bore his share of hell so I wouldn’t get hurt.

Suddenly felt cold down the spine.