Chapter 3 — Appointment Under the Stars

The classroom rooftop had been transformed into a compact but complete observation space — a telescope on a sturdy three-pronged stand in the middle, a few plastic folding chairs surrounding it, and a small table strewn with notebooks, flashlights wrapped in red paper, and a few pre-printed star maps.

When Ngoc Han stepped up to the spot, the sky was completely dark, with only a faint streak of orange light remaining at the end of the western horizon. Nhat Quang was bending down to adjust something on the telescope body, two other members stood next to help, and the 11th grade girl Ngoc Han met the day before was writing something down in a notebook.

"Ngoc Han! You're here." Nhat Quang looked up, his familiar bright smile appeared again. "The timing is perfect, we're about to start observing."

Ngoc Han nodded to everyone, walked to the edge of the group, trying to keep a safe distance from the telescope as if it were a creature that could bite her at any time. She looked up at the darkening sky, the first stars starting to peek out, and a familiar feeling — half choking, half defensive — arose in her heart again.

"The sky is clear tonight, no clouds, ideal observing conditions," Nhat Quang said, his voice full of excitement, completely ignoring the tension rising in the new member's heart. "We will start by identifying a few basic constellations first, then move on to using telescopes to observe more details."

He began to explain, pointing to the sky, his voice deep and enthusiastic as he mentioned each constellation — Ursa Major, Ursa Minor, the North Star used for orientation. Other members listened attentively, occasionally asking questions, a friendly and open atmosphere enveloped the group.

"The Ursa Major looks the most like a soup ladle," a male friend commented, making the group laugh.

"That's right, in many countries people also call it 'The Big Ladle'," Nhat Quang confirmed, his voice cheerful. "My grandfather told me that in ancient times, seafarers did not have satellite navigation. Just look at the two stars at the top of this ladle extending in a straight line to immediately find the North Star, from there you can determine the exact direction of north without a single inch of error."

"So if you're lost at sea without a compass, you just need to look at the stars to know the way back?" The Eleventh grade girl asked, her eyes wide with excitement.

"Exactly," Nhat Quang nodded. "That's also why I always say astronomy is not just a fun thing to look at, but also a real survival tool, saving the lives of countless seafarers thousands of years before modern technology."

Ngoc Han stood there, trying to focus on what Nhat Quang was saying, but her mind kept being pulled back to the past. She remembered exactly how her father used to point at the sky with the same tone, just as passionate, just as earnest, before all the promises gradually turned into apologies over the phone.

"Ngoc Han, do you want to try looking through the glass?" Nhat Quang asked, pulling her back to the present. "We're watching Saturn's position. Today we can see the whole ring."

"Can I... leave it another time?" Ngoc Han replied, her voice slightly broken, taking another step back.

Nhat Quang stopped and looked at her with slightly surprised but not uncomfortable eyes. "Okay, it's okay, just take your time."

She stood back in a corner, leaning her back against the terrace railing, watching the group of friends gathered around the telescope, taking turns shouting with excitement each time it was their turn to look through the eyepiece. That bustling laughter, which should have made her feel warm, only made her chest tighten little by little.

"I see the belt! It's clear as in a textbook!" A male friend shouted excitedly, giving way to the next person. "Ngoc Han, don't you regret it? It's so beautiful!"

"Some other time," she replied, trying to force a forced smile, turning away to look down at the dark schoolyard below instead of facing everyone's questioning eyes.

The night wind blew gently across the terrace, bringing with it the cool breeze of May, gently shaking the notebook pages left open on the table. Ngoc Han clasped her hands together, trying to suppress the choking feeling rising in her throat, blaming herself for letting a simple club activity stir up so many things that she had tried to bury for so many years.

She remembered one particular night, when she was fourteen, when the whole family had planned to watch the famous Geminids meteor shower together. Her father promised he would definitely return on time and sent a photo of the plane ticket via text message to reassure her. But at the last minute, a technical problem on the rig forced him to stay behind to handle it, the flight was canceled, and Ngoc Han stood alone on his rooftop that night, watching each meteor streak across the sky in tears, with no one around to share that moment.

"Are you okay?"

The sudden voice rang in her ear, causing Ngoc Han to turn around in surprise. Nhat Quang had already left the group, standing next to her, his eyes observing with concern but not probing.

"I'm fine," she replied quickly, somewhat too quickly, making the answer sound even more unconvincing.

Nhat Quang did not ask further questions, just stood quietly next to her for a moment, both looking out at the dark schoolyard below, where the pale yellow streetlights reflected on the trees.

"If you don't like looking at stars, that's okay," he said softly, his voice not reproachful. "This club isn't just about observing. We do a lot of other things — recording data, calculating orbits, even designing posters for events. You can find a role that's more suitable for you."

That statement, even though it came from good intentions, made Ngoc Han feel a bit guilty. She didn't have the heart to explain the real reason behind her avoidance, but she also didn't want Nhat Quang to misunderstand that she was simply not interested.

"It's not that I don't like it," she said, choosing each word carefully. "It's just... there are some personal reasons. I need time."

Nhat Quang nodded, without asking further questions, a quiet respect that Ngoc Han was secretly grateful for. "Okay, take your time. This club doesn't force anyone to do anything."

He was silent for a moment, then added, his voice gentle as if sharing something private. "There were times when I was afraid to look up at the sky, you know. When my grandfather first retired and his health was much weaker, there was a time when I avoided talking about observing stars, because I was afraid that every time I looked up I would remember him in the hospital. But then I realized, the more I tried to avoid it, the more I lost the beautiful memories that should have been kept."

Ngoc Han listened silently, not knowing how to respond, but that unexpected sharing made her feel a little less alone in her own feelings.

The observation session continued until nearly nine o'clock in the evening, when members began to pack their things and prepare to leave. Ngoc Han helped fold a few plastic chairs, trying to be helpful in her own way without having touch the telescope.

On the way home, she texted Yen Nhi to recount the evening, not hiding the suffocating feeling she experienced while standing in front of the starry sky.

"Are you going to give up?" Yen Nhi texted back, her voice worried through every word.

Ngoc Han looked at the phone screen for a long time, her fingers hesitant before typing the answer. "I don't know," she wrote. "But there's something about the club leader that makes me unwilling to give up right now. He doesn't force me to do anything, he just lets me decide at my own pace."

That was the truth, even though Ngoc Han herself did not fully understand why such a simple kindness held such great weight for her, who was used to bearing all her emotions herself without anyone noticing or understanding.

She put the phone down on the desk and sat quietly for a long time in the familiar light of the desk lamp, thinking back over the entire past evening. She remembered Nhat Quang's eyes when he asked if she was okay, not prying, not forcing, simply caring in the most sincere way. It was a strange feeling for her, who was used to suffering silently all the pain alone for many years, with no one really paying attention to what was going on behind her calm exterior.

Before turning off the light to go to bed, she opened the calendar on her phone and saw the note "Astronomy Club — next Friday night" that she had added herself before. She looked at that text for a long time, her finger hesitated on the screen, and in the end she did not delete it, even though she was not sure whether she would really come back or not.