Chapter 22 — Hockey Stars Can't Overcome My Figure

Late Apology

Two weeks after the final, Bao Duy asked to speak at the regular team meeting, an unusual request that surprised Pho Dinh Khang and coach Dai Trong Nghiep, but they both agreed, feeling that this was something he needed to do for himself, no less than for anyone else.

The meeting room was filled with people, the atmosphere was somewhat tense as everyone still clearly remembered what happened just a few weeks ago. Yen Thao sat in her usual position, no longer in the last row but moved closer, a small but symbolic change since last week's internal meeting.

Bao Duy stood in front of the whole team, there was no script prepared by the media department this time. He cleared his throat, his eyes looking to Yen Thao for a moment before starting.

"I know many people in this room have seen what's happened over the past few months," he said, his voice shaking slightly but trying to keep it steady. "I want to say this in front of everyone, because I think I owe Yen Thao a public apology, just as publicly as I hurt her."

The whole room was silent, all eyes turned to him.

"For the past four years," he continued, his voice choked with genuine emotion, "Yen Thao has quietly built everything I have today — from my competition tactics, to my mental stability, to the image that people still think I created myself. She never asked for any recognition. And when Ha Vy returned, I chose to protect my image by denying her in front of the camera, instead of protecting the person who gave it to me." whole youth to protect me.""

He turned to look straight at Yen Thao. "Yen Thao, I'm sorry. Not an apology to ask you to come back, but an apology because I was wrong, and I need you and everyone here to know that I realize that."

Yen Thao looked at him for a long time, her emotions were more complicated than she imagined when imagining this moment during previous sleepless nights. She stood up, not to get closer to him, but to respond in front of the entire team, with the composure of someone who had gone through enough pain to find peace on the other side.

"Thank you for your apology," she said, her voice clear, not shaking at all. "I accept it, not because I need it to feel better about myself — I've learned to find my own worth without needing anyone to validate me — but because I think you need to talk about it so you can truly move on, in a way that's more honest with yourself."

The entire meeting room was silent before that calm but powerful answer.

"But I also want to be clear," she continued, "that this apology does not mean things will go back to the way they were between us. I spent four years loving a version of you that I believed would always stand up for me when needed. Now I know the truth may be different. I don't blame you for that anymore, but I also can't go back to that path."

Bao Duy nodded, his eyes were red but did not object. "I understand. And I respect your decision, even though it hurts me more than anything I've ever experienced in this career."

Vu Trong Nam, sitting in a nearby row, spoke up before everyone could disperse. "Bao Duy, I think all of us here respect that you were brave enough to say it in front of the whole team. Not everyone dares to admit their mistakes so publicly." He turned to look at Yen Thao. "And I think we should all take this opportunity to publicly acknowledge that over the past four years, all of this team's most important victories have had your mark on it, Yen Thao. It's time for that to be said officially, no longer hidden."

A few other players nodded in agreement, some clapped lightly, creating a belated but sincere moment of recognition that Yen Thao had never dared to dream of during her years of silent dedication. She felt her eyes sting, not because of sadness, but because of a feeling of deep gratitude for the recognition coming from the teammates she had silently stood by for so long.

After the meeting, when everyone gradually dispersed, Dai Trong Nghiep went to his daughter and put his hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she replied, and this time, she said it with genuine sincerity, not as a reassurance to ease the other person's worries. "I think I've been waiting for this moment longer than I thought, not to hear an apology, but to prove to myself that I was strong enough to hear it without having to turn back."

Dai Trong Nghiep looked at his daughter, with a pride that was hard to describe in words. He recalled the image of the twenty-one year old girl who once sat in front of him, convincing him to give her the first chance to prove her worth. That girl, now, had grown up in a way he had never dared to hope to see so fully — not only good at her job, but also steadfast in the deepest of heartbreaks.

"I'm proud of you," he said, his voice choked. "Not because you exposed the plot, but because of the way you chose to face all that happened — with reason, with compassion, and without letting the pain turn you into someone different from yourself."

Yen Thao hugged her father, a short hug but containing so many things that didn't need to be said in words. For the first time in many months, she felt completely relieved, as if a heavy boulder had been lifted from her chest.

Chan Phong waited for her in the hallway, not wanting to intrude on the private moments of the meeting, but close enough to be there when she needed him. When she stepped out, their eyes met, and she smiled, a genuine smile of relief.

"He apologized," she said.

"How do you feel?" Chan Phong asked, unable to hide his sincere concern.

"I'm relieved," she replied, thinking carefully about each word before saying it. "Not because I needed that apology to feel healed, but because I realized I was truly past that stage. He apologized, I accepted, and I moved on — not back, but forward."

Chan Phong nodded, didn't say anything more, just walked next to her down the hallway, the silence between them now had a completely different meaning than the first days they knew each other - no longer the silence of two strangers examining each other, but the warm silence of two people who had come a long way together, and now, were standing on the threshold of something new, more real than anything they had ever known before.

Coming to the parking lot, Yen Thao stopped and turned to look at Chan Phong. "You know, there's one thing I realized during the last meeting. When Bao Duy apologized, I kept waiting for some feeling to flare up in my heart — regret, pain, even a faint bit of hope. But there was nothing. Just a very strange peace."

"Maybe that's a sign that you're truly healed," Chan Phong said, smiling slightly.

"Maybe so," she replied, looking at him with clearer eyes than at any time since Ha Vy appeared. "Or perhaps, I have found something new to direct my heart to, without having to wait for old wounds to heal before daring to start."

Chan Phong stopped walking and turned to look at her more frankly than usual. "Yen Thao, I don't want to rush, but I think it's time I made it clear what I feel, instead of just standing silently next to you forever. I like you, not just because of my admiration for what you've done, but because of who you are, simple as that."

Yen Thao smiled, feeling a warmth spread throughout her chest. "I've been waiting for you to say that for longer than I'd like to admit, too," she replied quietly. "But maybe we should give each other a little more time, not because I doubt my feelings, but because I want to go into this with a heart that is truly completely healed, without any trace of the past."

"I will wait," Chan Phong said, without hesitation. "As long as it takes." He looked at her, the smile on his lips was strangely gentle. "I've learned that the truly worthwhile things in life don't come in a hurry, but come right when they need to, just like how today's truth has finally found its way."