Chapter 23 — No One Wants to Lose

Lam Khe walked closer to the stone bench, and Nam Phong looked up as soon as he heard footsteps, quickly standing up, his eyes showing both worry and hope.

"Thank you for coming," he said, his voice trembling slightly, different from his usual confidence.

"Sit down," Lam Khe said, sitting on the bench, keeping just enough distance, not too far but not as naturally close as before.

Nam Phong sat down next to her, clasped his hands together on his lap, took a deep breath before starting. "I've been thinking a lot these past few days," he said, his voice slow and careful. "About what I said, about how I acted. I'm sorry, Lam Khe, truly sorry, for pushing you without finding out what was really going on."

Lam Khe listened silently, without interrupting, waiting to see what he would say next.

"I was so focused on the tournament, on my achievements, that I forgot the most important thing — you're not a chess-playing machine that I can reprogram with just a few words of encouragement," Nam Phong continued, his voice full of self-blame. "You're a human being, with real pain and real fears, and I completely ignored that because I was so impatient to see you get back to your old form."

"Do you know what happened?" Lam Khe asked, a bit surprised at the deep understanding in his words.

Nam Phong hesitated a bit, not wanting to betray Yen Chi's trust but also not wanting to lie to Lam Khe. "I know some of it," he admitted. "But I want to hear from you, if you're willing to share. I don't want to pretend like I understand everything just based on what other people tell me."

Lam Khe looked at him for a long time, feeling the sincerity in each of those words, and finally, she decided to tell the whole story — about the night at the bar, about witnessing her father almost relapse, about the fear and panic that had clung to her since that night, directly affecting her performance in the finals.

"So when you said 'stop being scared'," she finished, her voice still laced with hurt, "I felt like you were telling me to simply forget everything I just went through, as if my fear was just a small obstacle to be overcome quickly for the good of the tournament."

Nam Phong bowed his head, his face full of regret. “I understand,” he said, his voice choked. "And I'm truly sorry for making you feel that way. It wasn't my intention at all, but I understand why my words hurt so much, especially when you're carrying such a heavy burden and have no one to share it with."

"I'm also at fault," Lam Khe said, her voice softening. "I didn't tell you from the beginning, because I was afraid you would look at me differently, think I wasn't strong enough. But looking back now, I think it was that silence that made things worse, for both of us."

"You don't have to be strong all the time, Lam Khe," Nam Phong said, turning to look straight at her, his eyes filled with sincerity. "That's what I learned from this. I always admire your strength, the great progress you have achieved, but I forgot that, behind that strength, you are still a person who can be hurt, can be weak, and that is completely normal."

Lam Khe felt tears rising, but this time they were tears of relief, of finally being fully understood by the person she cared for most deeply. “Thank you,” she said, her voice shaking. "For listening, for not judging."

"I will never judge you for what you feel," Nam Phong said, gently reaching out his hand, not taking her hand right away but just leaving it open, waiting for her to decide. "And I promise, from now on, I will always ask before judging, will always try to understand your situation before giving any advice, whether it concerns chess or anything else in life."

Lam Khe looked at that waiting hand, then slowly placed her hand in, feeling the familiar warmth spreading throughout her body, a feeling she had missed during the past stressful week of separation.

"I also have a promise," she said, squeezing his hand gently. "I will try to open up more, share more, instead of keeping everything inside like old habits. I realize that staying silent is not always the best way to protect yourself, sometimes it just makes everything worse."

The two sat quietly together for a long time, still holding hands tightly, the sunset dyed the sky orange in the distance, just like the afternoon they sat here for the first time when Lam Khe told him about their family's past. But this time, the air between them took on a different tone — deeper, more solid, tempered by the ordeal they had just gone through.

"There are only nine days left until the registration deadline for the city-level tournament," Nam Phong said after a while, his voice careful, not wanting to create more pressure but also needing to mention reality. "Do you want to continue competing? I will respect your decision no matter what you choose."

Lam Khe thought for a moment, clearly feeling the difference in her heart compared to the night she thought about giving up. "I want to continue," she said, her voice more certain than she expected. "But I need time to regain my confidence, and I need you to be with me in a different way — not just as a motivating coach, but as a truly understanding and patient friend."

"I will be both, just the way you need," Nam Phong said, smiling warmly, squeezing her hand tighter. "We will rebuild together, step by step, without haste."

Lam Khe nodded, a genuine, relieved smile appeared on his face for the first time after many stressful days. She looked at Nam Phong and felt a new, deeper connection, built not only on the foundation of mutual admiration or passion for chess, but on a complete understanding and acceptance of each other's true selves, both their strengths and their wounds that have not yet fully healed.

"I brought this with me," Nam Phong said, breaking the warm silence, rummaging in his backpack and taking out a compact travel chess set, the type that can be folded and put the pieces into small holes on the table to prevent them from moving. "I think, maybe we don't need to talk more about the tournament or tactics today. Just play one game, simple, like when we first met."

Lam Khe laughed lightly at that unexpected suggestion. "Right here, in the park?"

"Why not?" Nam Phong shrugged and quickly set up the chess board in the space between the two of them on the stone bench. "No scoring, no pressure, no audience except those pigeons."

They played a gentle game of chess under the fading sunset, the atmosphere between them gradually returning to the natural comfort of before, mixed with small laughter whenever one of them toyed with some odd move, deliberately breaking all the serious rules they usually followed during official training sessions.

"You know," Lam Khe said mid-game, eyes still glued to the small chessboard, "this is the first time in a long time that I've played chess just for fun, not to prove anything, not to win or not to lose."

"That's the feeling I always wanted you to find again," Nam Phong said, his eyes gently looking at her in the fading light of the late afternoon. "Not just on the chessboard, but in every aspect of your life."

When it was completely dark and the park lights turned on, they tidied up the chess board and prepared to say goodbye. "Thank you for this afternoon," Lam Khe said, standing up, feeling lighter than when she arrived a few hours ago.

"Thank you for giving me the opportunity to correct my mistake," Nam Phong replied, also standing up, looking at her with respectful eyes. "See you at the club, we'll start from the beginning, exactly the way you need."

Lam Khe nodded, smiled, turned and walked home with a heart more relieved and full of hope than the afternoon when she left home, carrying both her father's promise and the new understanding from Nam Phong, two solid foundations for her to continue moving forward, no longer having to shoulder all her fears alone like before.

After walking a few steps, she turned around and saw Nam Phong still standing there under the park lights, waving to her again, the warm smile still on his face. Lam Khe waved back, then continued walking, filled with a sense of peace that she had craved during the past tumultuous weeks.