Chapter 17 — Puppets Under the Lights

During the following week, Minh Long avoided club practice for many different reasons - busy studying for exams, not feeling well, having family matters. He also did not fully respond to Diem My's message, only responding with short, blunt sentences, completely different from the warm openness that she had become accustomed to over the past two months.

Diem My, at first, didn't think much, thinking that perhaps Minh Long was really busy, but on the fourth consecutive day he was absent without a clear explanation, she began to feel really worried. "Are you okay?" She texted and asked, "The whole group misses you so much, especially the new members. They keep asking when Mr. Long will come back to teach again."

Minh Long looked at that message for a long time, his finger hovering over the screen, but in the end he only typed back a short sentence: "I'm fine. Just a little busy." He did not have the courage to tell her about the wood factory about to be sold, about the pain that was tearing at his heart every day, afraid that if he told her, everything would become more real, and there would be no turning back.

At home, the atmosphere also becomes more tense than ever. His parents, even though they tried to explain a few more times, still could not ease the anger and sadness in Minh Long's heart. He began eating in silence, avoiding eye contact with his parents, and spending most of his time in his room, with the door always closed.

One afternoon, Minh Long sneaked out to the backyard and stood in front of the locked wooden workshop door. He didn't open the door, just stood there, his hand on the rusty lock, the familiar feeling of pain rushing back, but this time it had a different nuance - no longer the pain of a past loss, but the fear of a loss that was about to happen, a loss he felt completely powerless to stop.

Tuan Anh, realizing the sudden change in his friend, stopped by the house one evening and insisted on entering the room even though Minh Long initially refused. "You've been avoiding me all week," Tuan Anh said, sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes filled with worry. "What happened? Don't say it's nothing, I know you too well to believe that."

Minh Long was silent for a long time, and finally told the whole story — about his parents' decision to sell the factory, about his fear of losing his grandfather's last relics, about feeling like everything he had just tried to build was collapsing in an instant. Tuan Anh listened attentively, his face also weighed down with each word his friend told him.

"Oh my god, Long," Tuan Anh sighed when he finished listening, "why didn't you tell me sooner? You don't have to bear this alone."

"I don't know what to say," Minh Long replied, his voice tired. "I just feel like if I say it, everything will become more real, and I'm not ready to face that."

"So what about Diem My? Did you tell him?" Tuan Anh asked.

Minh Long shook his head, avoiding your eyes. "Not yet. I don't want him to worry, or worse, I don't want to hear words of encouragement like 'everything will be okay' when I know it won't be okay at all."

Tuan Anh frowned, seemingly disagreeing with that thought. "I think you're underestimating him. Diem My is not the type of person who just talks. You should give him the opportunity to understand and accompany you, instead of enduring it all on your own."

Minh Long did not answer, just remained silent, his heart was still too confused to receive that advice thoroughly. Tuan Anh stayed a while longer, trying to comfort his friend with other idle stories, but when he left, his eyes still couldn't hide the deep worry for his close friend who was gradually closing in on himself again.

The next day, at school, Diem My proactively went to Minh Long during recess, her face full of sincere concern. "Long, are you sure you're okay? I feel like something's not right these past few days."

"I'm fine," Minh Long replied, his voice was stiffer than he intended, an invisible wall seemed to be built between the two of them. "It's just that there's a lot to worry about these days."

"Can you share with me?" Diem My asked, her voice was gentle but earnest. "I think I'm close enough that you can trust me to share my difficulties, no matter what."

Minh Long looked at her, his heart torn between the desire to share and the fear of having to face the painful reality that lay ahead. Finally, he shook his head, his voice quiet but decisive. "Not now. I need time to figure it out myself."

Diem My nodded, although her eyes could not hide disappointment and worry. "Okay, I won't force you. But remember, I'm always here, whenever you're ready to talk." She turned and left, leaving Minh Long standing alone in the middle of the schoolyard, his heart heavy with guilt for pushing her away, but still not brave enough to open his heart, afraid that if he did, he would have to admit to himself that this pain was real, and nothing could stop it from happening.

That afternoon, instead of going to the club as usual, Minh Long walked alone to the dike, where he often goes when he needs to think. He sat down on the grass bank, looking out at the green rice fields stretching to the horizon, where in the distance he could faintly see the rooftops of the water puppetry village, his grandfather's hometown. He wondered if the factory land was sold, would the new buyer retain anything of the place's past, or would it all be razed and rebuilt into something completely strange, with no trace left of the artisans who had lived and worked there for decades.

He took out his phone and looked back at the photos he took in the workshop the night he repaired the Teu puppet with Diem My - images of unfinished puppets stacked on shelves, carving tools scattered on the workbench, old photos of him and his old students. He looked at each photo one by one, feeling like he was trying to remember every detail before it all disappeared forever.

A gentle wind blew, carrying the faint smell of young rice, making Minh Long suddenly remember a sentence he once said, when he and his nephew were sitting on this very dike many years ago. "Life is like water, my dear," he said, his voice deep and familiar. "Sometimes calm, sometimes fierce, but the water always finds a way to continue flowing, no matter how many obstacles it has to go around." At that time, Minh Long was too young to fully understand the profound meaning of that statement, but now, sitting alone amidst the pain and helplessness, he began to feel some of the truth in it, even though he was still not strong enough to truly believe it.

He stayed on the dike until it got dark, the sunset dyed the western sky orange, no longer bringing a warm feeling like before, but only made his heart heavier, like a reminder of the time passing, and his parents' decision was still getting closer every day, nothing he could do could stop it.

On the way home, his phone vibrated continuously - several messages from the club chat group asking about next week's practice schedule, another message from Thao asking when Mr. Long would come back to teach again because she had not yet mastered the new technique. Minh Long looked at those messages and felt a deep torment — he knew he was disappointing the people who trusted him, but he also didn't know how to pretend to be okay while his heart was breaking every day.

He turned off the phone screen, put it in his pocket, and continued walking in the gradually falling darkness. The familiar feeling of loneliness that he thought he had left behind now returned, clinging to every step he took on the way home.

When he got home, Minh Long quietly went straight to his room, did not have dinner with his family as usual, and used the excuse of eating out. His mother stood at the foot of the stairs, watching her son disappear. Her eyes were full of worry but she didn't know what to do to close the growing gap between mother and son. She sighed, returned to the kitchen to clean up, her heart was heavy because she knew that the family's decision, although reluctant, was causing a deep wound in the heart of the son she loved the most.

In the room, Minh Long lay down on the bed, not bothering to change clothes, his eyes staring at the ceiling. He thought about everything that had happened in the past two months — from his first meeting with Diem My, to the practice sessions that gradually healed his heart, to the emotionally successful performance, and now, it all seemed to be covered by a dark cloud of new fear of loss. He wondered if he was repeating the same old mistake — closing himself off, pushing away those who cared about him, just because he didn't have the courage to face the pain — or if this was really another situation, another loss that he had the right to grieve in his own way.

He couldn't find a clear answer, he only knew that tonight, like many nights before, sleep came to him slowly and was full of incomplete, flickering dreams.