Chapter 8 — Elections and Hearts

The Do family's villa is located in a quiet residential area in the west of the city, with neatly trimmed green fences and a front yard paved with polished marble. Khang walked into his father's office, where Mr. Do Thanh Lam was sitting behind a large mahogany desk, flipping through a file of documents.

"Dad called me?" Khang asked, standing at the door, his voice somewhat reserved.

"Come here, sit down," Mr. Lam signaled, not immediately raising his head. He closed the file and looked at his son with familiar sharp eyes. "I just looked through this morning's issue of the school newspaper. You did quite well in the interview, but I have something to say."

Khang sat down, mentally preparing for an uncomfortable conversation. "What do you want to say, Dad?"

"Preliminary survey results show that you and that girl Ngoc are leading," Mr. Lam said, his voice even but containing hidden calculation. "That's good news. But I heard that you two are quite close these days, and are even planning to do some project together?"

"Yes," Khang nodded, not understanding why his father cared about this detail. "We are planning to combine Ngoc's Companion Scholarship Fund with my creative space renovation project."

Mr. Lam frowned and put the documents aside. "Khang, you think it's too simple. This is an election, not a group project. If you continue to cooperate closely with your opponent like that, you are single-handedly helping her score points in the eyes of the whole school's students, while you yourself fade away."

"But I think, if we both cooperate for the common good, the students will appreciate that spirit more," Khang argued, trying to keep his voice calm even though the familiar discomfort began to rise in his heart every time he had a conversation with his father about issues like this.

"You're still very young, Khang," Mr. Lam shook his head, his voice somewhat condescending. "In politics - even if it's just school politics - you can't let your opponents share the spotlight with you. I suggest that, from now until election day, you should keep a certain distance from that Ms. Ngoc. Focus on building your own image, don't let all your achievements be tied to her name."

Khang clenched his hands on his thighs, trying to control his emotions. "Dad, I don't think this is the right way. Ngoc is not the enemy, she..."

"I don't care if she's a friend or an enemy," Mr. Lam interrupted, his voice decisive. "Dad only cares about you winning this election. You know what I told my business partners and the People's Council about your running? If you lose, it will not only be your own failure, but will also affect the reputation of your entire family."

"So what if I win but lose myself in the process?" Khang suddenly asked again, his voice much stronger than usual. "Have you ever asked me what I really want, besides winning the election?"

That question was like a sudden collision, making the atmosphere in the office suddenly become much heavier. Mr. Lam placed his hands on the table, his fingers lightly clasped together - a habit he still does when he feels put in a tight spot in important business meetings, something Khang has never seen his father do in front of his children.

Mr. Lam paused, somewhat surprised by the rare resistance from his son. "What are you talking about?"

"I like architecture, dad," Khang said, frankly admitting this for the first time in front of dad. "I've been studying technical drawing for two years now, self-taught online because I knew dad wouldn't approve. The warehouse renovation project I'm doing with Ngoc — it's not just an election strategy, it's something I'm truly passionate about."

The atmosphere in the room slackened, the silence stretched uncomfortably. Mr. Lam looked at his son with complex eyes mixed with surprise, disappointment and something almost hurt.

"I don't know how long you've been keeping this from me," he finally said, his voice low. "Architecture is not a bad profession, but it does not bring stability and social status like the path I have outlined for you. I just want the best for you, Khang."

"I know dad wants the best for me," Khang replied, his voice softening but still steadfast. "But 'good for me' as you define it, doesn't have to be exactly the same path you've been on. I want to find my own path, Dad."

Mr. Lam was silent for a long time, his fingers lightly tapping on the wooden table, his eyes looking out at the dark window outside. There was a moment when his usually serious face suddenly dropped, revealing something almost nostalgic.

"You know," he said slowly, his voice had changed, "when I was your age, I used to love drawing. Not architecture, but oil painting. Your grandfather was then the principal of a high school in the countryside, and always said that drawing was just a pastime and could not feed anyone. I listened to him and put all my effort into studying, into leadership and business. Up to now, I still do not regret what I have achieved, but sometimes, I wonder if That day I dared to disobey my grandfather once, how different would my father's life be?

Khang looked at his father, he had never heard him talk about this story. "Why didn't you ever tell me that?"

"Because I think the path I chose is the right one, and I want you to follow it to avoid what I consider unnecessary risks," Mr. Lam sighed, closing the documents on the table. "But maybe, Dad was wrong to impose that on you without really listening to what you want."

"So dad..." Khang hesitated, not daring to believe what he just heard.

"I'm not saying I agree right now," Mr. Lam raised his hand to stop, his voice returning to its familiar sternness. "But I will think more seriously about your architecture. As for running for election, I still maintain my opinion. You should reconsider the level of cooperation with Ms. Ngoc."

Khang did not respond immediately, just nodded slightly, even though he had already made his own decision in his heart. He stood up, greeted his father, then left the office, walked into the dark yard outside, took a deep breath of the cool night air.

The phone vibrated in my pocket. A text message from Ngoc: "Is it done yet? Are you okay?"

Khang looked at that message for a long time, a warmth spreading in his heart while he was feeling the most tired and lonely. He typed back: "Okay. There are a few things to think about, but I'm okay. Thank you for asking."

"Are you sure? It doesn't sound very good," Ngoc replied almost immediately.

Khang laughed softly alone in the dark, feeling understood even through just a few short text messages. "I'm sure. I'll see you at school tomorrow, I'll tell you more details."

He put his phone in his pocket and looked up at the sparkling night sky A rare star amidst the city lights, full of new determination. Although the road ahead still has many thorns — with his father, with the election, with himself — Khang knows that, for the first time in his life, he is walking on the path of his own choosing, not in anyone else's shadow.

The next morning, Khang arrived at school earlier than usual and found Ngoc sitting alone in class reviewing her lessons before class. He pulled out a chair and sat down opposite, recounting the entire conversation last night with his father, not hiding any details.

"So your dad wants you to keep your distance from me?" Ngoc asked, her voice low, unable to hide her worry.

"He said so," Khang nodded, "but I've already made up my mind. I won't let that affect how I work with you, or the joint commitment we just drafted yesterday."

Ngoc was silent for a moment, her eyes complicated. "I don't want you to have trouble with your family because of me, Khang." Ngoc added, her voice lowered, her eyes avoiding looking directly at him because she didn't want to reveal all the worries that were swirling in her heart right now.

"You don't embarrass me," Khang shook his head firmly. "It's me who decides my own path. Besides, I think, deep inside, my father is also gradually changing his perspective, even though he's not ready to admit it right away. He even told me a story I never knew, about the passion for painting he had to give up when he was young."

The class bell rang, interrupting the conversation. Ngoc nodded, a relieved smile appearing on her lips. "Thank you for telling me everything. No matter what, I will be here, accompanying you."

Khang smiled in response, feeling stronger than ever knowing he was not alone in facing the pressures that lay ahead, even though neither of them could have imagined that the truly greatest pressures had yet to appear.