Chapter 21 — No One Wants to Lose

Part V — Our Game of Chess Together

Yen Chi came to Nam Phong one afternoon after school, when he was alone rearranging the chess cabinet in room 203. She stood at the door for a while, observing the unusually thoughtful expression of the club leader before deciding to enter.

"Nam Phong, can I talk to you for a moment?" she asked, her voice more serious than usual.

Nam Phong looked up, a bit surprised to see Lam Khe's close friend appear. "Okay, please sit down," he replied, pulling out a chair and inviting her to sit down.

"I didn't come here to blame you," Yen Chi began, choosing her words carefully. "But I think you need to know a few things, to better understand why Lam Khe reacted like that last week. He didn't know I was here, and maybe he would be angry with me if he knew, but I can't stand by and watch you both keep misunderstanding each other like that, especially when the tournament registration deadline is approaching."

Nam Phong was silent, his eyes listening attentively, feeling the seriousness in Yen Chi's voice.

Yen Chi recounts, carefully but fully, the story of Lam Khe's family's past — about the fateful gamble when she was twelve years old, about the six years she lived in fear of loss, and about the recent incident when Lam Khe witnessed her father nearly commit a crime again at the old cafe, right before the regional finals.

Nam Phong listened to every word, his face gradually changed from surprise to shock, and finally a deep sadness when he understood the entire picture that he had missed all this time.

"He never told me the details about the recent incident," Nam Phong said, his voice choked. "I only knew about the past, about why he played defense, but I didn't know what happened right before the finals. If I knew..."

"That's the problem," Yen Chi said, her voice softening. "Lam Khe didn't tell you because he was afraid of disturbing the team's preparations, afraid that you would look at him differently. But because he didn't know, when you urged him to 'stop being afraid', those words accidentally touched the freshest wound in his heart."

Nam Phong sat silently, holding his head with both hands. The fragmented pieces in his mind over the past few weeks were now assembled into a complete and painful picture. He remembered Lam Khe's tense expression during recent practice sessions, her unusual lack of concentration, and her violent reaction when he let out that careless sentence.

"I was completely wrong," he said, his voice full of self-blame. "I only thought about the tournament, about helping him get back in shape, without stopping to ask what was really going on in his life. I acted exactly like a coach who only cares about achievements, not a friend who truly cares about the person behind those achievements."

"You're not completely wrong," Yen Chi said, trying to provide some comfort. "You simply don't have enough information to properly understand the situation. But now that you know, the question is what you do next."

Nam Phong looked up, his eyes steady again even though he was still filled with guilt. "I need to talk to Lam Khe, apologize to him sincerely, and this time, I will listen before saying anything else."

"That's exactly what I hoped you would do," Yen Chi smiled slightly, relieved to see he understood the problem. "But remember, don't tell him I told him everything, let him decide how much he wants to share with you when he's ready."

"I understand," Nam Phong nodded, grateful for that delicacy.

After Yen Chi left, Nam Phong sat alone in room 203, looking out the window where the sunset was gradually falling, his heart filled with a new determination. He remembered every moment he spent with Lam Khe — the first afternoon she visited the club, the first game of chess they played together, the afternoon at the park when she told him part of her past story, the warm, trusting hand held. All of those moments now take on a much deeper meaning as he better understands what Lam Khe had to overcome to be able to trust him that much.

He took out his phone, didn't text a hasty apology like he had planned to do last week, but instead composed a more careful message: "Lam Khe, I know I was wrong last week. I don't want to apologize via text, because I think you deserve to hear it in person. If you're ready, tomorrow after school, I want to meet you, just to talk, without any pressure about the tournament."

He sent the message, then waited in suspense mixed with worry, not knowing whether Lam Khe was ready to open up again after everything that had happened.

Fifteen minutes passed in silence, each passing minute made Nam Phong more restless. He stood up, paced back and forth in the deserted room 203, thinking about what to say, where to start if Lam Khe agreed to meet. He thought of what Yen Chi had just told her, about the image of a twelve-year-old girl having to witness her entire family fall apart overnight, about the burden she had silently carried for six long years that he, despite spending many months by her side, still could not fully understand.

He blamed himself for being so impatient with achievements, with the tournament, with the reputation of the club, that he forgot the most important thing - the people behind every move. He has always been proud of the fact that he understands Lam Khe better than anyone else, but now, looking back, he realizes that understanding is still much shallower than he thought.

His phone vibrated, pulling him out of his thoughts. It's a text message from Lam Khe: "Okay. Tomorrow, after school, at the park near my house, where I sat last time." Nam Phong read that line, a feeling of relief mixed with hope spread throughout his body. The fact that she chose the exact location where they had had their deepest conversation, where she had first revealed part of their past story, made him feel like there was still a chance to mend things.

He replied immediately: "Thank you for agreeing to meet. I will arrive on time." Then he put down the phone, sat alone in the room that was gradually sinking into darkness when dusk had completely disappeared, telling himself that tomorrow, he would do everything right - listen first, understand first, then speak.

That night, before going to sleep, Nam Phong took out a small notebook, something he rarely used other than to record chess positions, and wrote down a few lines of thoughts, not about tactics or openings, but about himself. He wrote: "I'm used to always being proactive, always pushing people forward, because for me, that's always a way to show concern. But maybe, sometimes, truly caring means knowing how to stop, knowing how to ask, knowing how to wait, instead of always pushing others to go at your own pace."

He closed the notebook, turned off the light, but sleep came later than usual, his mind kept spinning around the image of Lam Khe standing there, tears streaming down her face, saying that she needed a friend who truly understood and was patient, not a coach who only knew how to push. He promised himself that tomorrow, he would become that right friend, no matter how long it took for her to trust him again.

The next morning, Nam Phong arrived at school earlier than usual, his mind still heavy with thoughts about this afternoon's meeting. He passed by class 12A1, deliberately slowing down a bit, hoping to catch a glimpse of Lam Khe through the window, but the classroom was still deserted at this hour. He continued walking, his heart still mixed between hope and worry.

That whole day, time seemed to pass much slower than usual for Nam Phong. He attended all classes but absorbed almost nothing, his mind always focused on the upcoming afternoon. During recess, Duc Anh noticed his unusually distracted appearance and asked a few questions, but Nam Phong only answered briefly, not wanting to reveal too much about the upcoming private meeting.

When school ended, Nam Phong hurriedly packed up his books and almost ran out of the classroom, causing a few classmates to look after him with curious eyes. He went straight to the small park near Lam Khe's house, arrived nearly twenty minutes earlier than the appointment time, sat down on the familiar stone bench, clasped his hands tightly in his heart, trying to rearrange what he wanted to say so that it was sincere, correct, and not repeating the mistakes of the previous time.