Chapter 10 — Elections and Hearts

That night, in the small rented room, Gia Huy sat in front of the phone screen for a long time, the pale blue light shining on his tense face. The "Confession NTT" page is open, the content input box is empty, waiting.

He typed, deleted, then typed again. After nearly an hour of wrestling with my conscience, a complete text finally appeared on the screen:

"I don't know if anyone has noticed, but the 10th grade scholarship story of a candidate running for Student Council President seems a bit... told in a way that is too self-serving. I heard that there were a few other students at that time who had equally difficult times, but for some reason only one person was chosen to receive special support. I wonder if the review criteria at that time were really fair and transparent as told now, or if it was just a story 'polished' to get votes. pregnant?"

Huy's finger trembled as it hovered over the "Post" button. He closed his eyes, the image of mocking eyes from middle school reappeared, mixed with the image of Ngoc and Khang standing next to each other on stage, receiving endless applause that he had never had.

He pressed the "Post" button.

The article appeared on the Confession NTT page at eleven o'clock at night, under a completely anonymous identity according to the site's mechanism. Within the first half hour, there were only a few scattered interactions. But by the next morning, when the whole school's students woke up and opened their phones to check the news, the article had spread at breakneck speed - hundreds of shares, thousands of heated comments.

Immediately after pressing the post button, Huy turned off the phone screen, threw it to the side of the bed, his heart pounding in his chest. He lay there, looking up at the ceiling, feeling a strange mixture of relief and heavy guilt. He told himself this was just a casual question, not a direct accusation, without naming specifics — as if that vague phrasing could help him escape responsibility for what he had just done.

But sleep that night did not come to Huy as easily as he thought. He tossed and turned, constantly opening his phone to check the number of interactions that were skyrocketing every minute. Part of him was frightened by the unexpected spread, another part felt a dark satisfaction when he saw the name "Ngoc" starting to appear densely in the comments, even though no one mentioned his name.

Ngoc discovered this when Trang called her at six in the morning, sounding panicked. "Ngoc, are you awake yet? You have to see this right away."

Ngoc opened her phone, her heart pounding as she read each line of comments below that anonymous post - some defended her, some were skeptical, but the scariest were the comments that began to embellish untrue details, turning the original simple story into a "scandal" that sounded much more serious than the truth.

"Someone added the detail that I 'bribed' the person in charge of scholarship approval," Ngoc said, her voice shaking with mixed anger and panic. "This is completely untrue, Trang!"

"I know, I know," Trang reassured, although her voice couldn't hide the worry. "But what should we do now? It has spread too quickly."

Ngoc sat up from the bed, her hands shaking and immediately called Khang. He picked up the phone after two rings, his voice still tired Sleep. "Ngoc? What are you calling so early?"

"Haven't you seen it yet?" Ngoc asked, her voice choked. "There's an anonymous post on Confession NTT, spreading rumors about my scholarship, that's going around."

The other end of the line was silent for a moment, then the sound of searching for the phone rang out. Then Khang's voice spoke, completely awake, full of anger. "I see. This is blatant slander. Don't worry, I will come to school soon, let's think about how to handle it."

Forty minutes later, Ngoc, Khang and Trang were present at school even though there was still more than an hour until class started. They went to Ms. Ha's room. Luckily, she was there early. Her face showed concern when she saw her student coming in a state of panic.

"I've seen that post," Ms. Ha said as soon as the three people walked in, without them needing to explain further. "She is contacting the Confession NTT site administrator to request the post be removed and provide information about the posting account, even though she knows the possibility of their cooperation is not high because that is the site's anonymous privacy policy."

"Auntie, what should I do now?" Ngoc asked, her voice still shaking.

"First of all," Ms. Ha said, her voice calm but determined, "you must not panic or overreact on social networks. Anything you say now, if you are not careful, can be further edited and distorted by others. You should prepare an official, clear statement, possibly accompanied by authentic evidence if any, and then post it through an official, trustworthy channel — such as the School Newspaper Club."

Khang immediately spoke up. "I will call Phuc right now. He can help verify and post the official response as quickly as possible."

"Okay," Ms. Ha nodded. "But remember, all information given must be absolutely accurate, there must not be any loopholes for the opponent to take advantage of."

Ngoc nodded, trying to calm down even though her heart was still racing. She pulled out her phone and searched for old text messages and documents related to the 10th grade scholarship that her mother still carefully kept - receipts, handwritten thank you letters sent to an anonymous scholarship fund, and even a diary recording the family's tuition spending during the most difficult period.

"I have all the documents to prove it," Ngoc said, her voice a little firmer. "I will be transparent about everything, not hiding anything."

Ms. Ha nodded in agreement, her eyes full of trust for her students. "That's exactly what you should do. The truth, when presented clearly and transparently, always has greater power than any malicious rumor."

While the group began drafting their official statement, Khang glanced at Ngoc and noticed that her hands were still shaking slightly despite her efforts to appear strong. He quietly placed his hand on her shoulder, a simple gesture of encouragement but enough to convey everything he wanted to say right now.

"We will get through this," Khang said softly, just loud enough for Ngoc to hear. "I promise."

Ngoc looked at him, a bit of warmth seeping into the storm of panic surrounding her, even though they both knew this was just the beginning of a battle much more difficult than anything they had faced during the election campaign.

By the time school started, news of the anonymous post had spread throughout the classrooms. Ngoc entered class 12A1 under the judgmental eyes of some classmates, although most still maintained a supportive attitude, even a few You proactively went to comfort her as soon as she put her schoolbag down on the table.

"We don't believe those rumors, Ngoc," a classmate said, patting her shoulder. "You keep your spirits up, we support you."

Ngoc nodded in thanks, trying to smile even though her heart was still filled with anxiety. During the first break, instead of going to the campaign booth as usual, Ngoc, Khang and Phuc gathered in the Truong Newspaper Club room, rushing to complete the official response.

"I will post a photo of the receipt and a thank you letter from Ngoc's mother, of course with sensitive personal information hidden," Phuc said, typing quickly on the laptop keyboard. "Along with that is confirmation from the student affairs office that the anonymous scholarship fund that year really exists and has been approved through the correct process."

"Thank you very much, Phuc," Ngoc said, her voice choked with emotion at that kind help.

"This is the work of the Truong Newspaper Club," Phuc smiled, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere. "Covering accurate news, fighting fake news — that's exactly why we exist."

The official response article was posted on Truong Newspaper Club's information page right before the second recess, accompanied by full evidence images that had carefully hidden sensitive information. Within just an hour, the article attracted an overwhelming amount of interaction, most of the comments turned to support Ngoc, condemning the act of spreading false rumors anonymously.

"Look at the response," Trang exclaimed, showing the phone to Ngoc, her voice full of excitement. "Everyone is on your side, Ngoc!"

Ngoc breathed a sigh of relief, the feeling of tension throughout the morning gradually disappeared. But just as she was about to put the phone away, a new comment appeared that made her stop: "Still strange though, who would know such details to make up a story so close to the truth? It must be someone they know at school."

Ngoc read that comment over and over again, a new insecurity rekindled in her heart. If the person spreading the rumor was indeed someone she knew at school, the list of suspects was not extensive — and the first name that appeared in her mind, even though she didn't want to believe it, was Lam Gia Huy.