Chapter 17 — Seeds After the Rain

Three days before the event, the atmosphere between Gia Huy and his close friends still showed no signs of improvement. Dang Khoi still maintains a cold attitude, only exchanging necessary sentences in class, no more intimate teasing like before. Tuan and a few others also gradually became distant, although they did not openly express their harsh attitude like Dang Khoi.

At recess, when Gia Huy was sitting alone on a bench in the school yard, trying to review some content for the presentation to welcome the ward representative, Dang Khoi suddenly came and sat down next to him, saying nothing for a moment.

"I'm thinking again," Dang Khoi spoke first, his voice softened somewhat compared to the previous days. "I know it's a bit too much for me to force you to choose. But you also have to understand, this is your senior year, from now on each of you will go to a university, so there may not be many occasions for the whole group to gather together like that again."

"I understand," Gia Huy replied, touched by his friend's unexpected humility. "I don't want to disappoint you either."

"Then come," Dang Khoi said, with a rare earnest look in his eyes. "I talked to the whole group, everyone agreed to move the departure time a little later, around ten o'clock in the morning instead of eight o'clock as originally planned. If you participate in the morning at the garden until about nine o'clock, then take a taxi to the meeting point, you should still be on time."

Gia Huy calculated in his head. The Open Garden Festival event is expected to start at eight o'clock in the morning, with the reception of ward representatives and important guests taking place right from the beginning, lasting until about eleven o'clock in the afternoon before there is a summary and farewell session for guests. If you leave at nine o'clock, you will miss almost all of the most important parts - just when the ward representatives and guests come to visit, just when someone with the ability to adapt flexibly is needed to coordinate everything smoothly like Quynh Nhu entrusted.

"Nine o'clock is a bit early," he said, his voice hesitant. "The most important part of the event takes place from eight to eleven. I'm afraid leaving in the middle will have a big impact on..."

"Gia Huy," Dang Khoi interrupted, his voice a bit tired. "I've tried to compromise as much as possible. I can't postpone the whole trip just because of you alone. You decide for yourself, but I hope you understand, this may be the last time I proactively compromise like that."

That sentence, although not a direct threat, still carried an invisible weight that made Gia Huy feel suffocated. He looked at Dang Khoi, the friend who spent nearly the first year of school with him at the new school, who helped him integrate quickly, organizing countless fun gatherings, and he felt an indescribable tug in his heart.

"Let me think about it," he replied, his voice quieter than usual.

That afternoon, when he arrived at the garden, Gia Huy was still in a heavy mood. The whole team is in the final sprint, everyone is busy with dozens of unfinished tasks. Quynh Nhu, even though she was busy, still took the time to review each part of her work with him.

"Do you remember well?" she said, giving him a detailed script on the order of welcoming guests. "At eight o'clock, the ward representative is welcomed at the gate, led through the project's history display area, at nine o'clock there is a short speech by the principal and the ward representative, then there is a free tour combined with the experience of sowing seeds for the children until half past ten, then the final souvenir giving ceremony at eleven o'clock."

"Yes, I remember," Gia Huy replied, trying to keep his voice calm even though his heart was in turmoil.

Quynh Nhu looked at him, seemingly sensing something wrong with his attitude over the past few days. "Gia Huy," she called, her voice gentle but serious, "I know you seem stressed lately. If there's anything difficult, just tell me, don't keep it to yourself."

Gia Huy looked at her, and for a moment he almost blurted out everything - about the pressure from Dang Khoi, about the trip to the beach, about the fear that was tugging at his heart. But then he hesitated, afraid that if he told her, she would worry, lose focus on the more important final preparations, or worse, would realize that he was considering a choice that could betray the trust she had given him.

"I'm fine," he replied, trying to smile reassuringly. "Just a little tired from homework and preparations."

Quynh Nhu looked at him for a long time, her eyes not completely believing in that explanation, but she did not ask further questions, just gently placed her hand on his shoulder briefly. "There are only three more days left. I believe you will play your role well, like you always do."

That sentence, filled with absolute trust, made Gia Huy feel a sharp pain in his heart, as if every word she said was unintentionally deepening the burden of responsibility he was carrying. He nodded, not daring to look directly into her eyes for too long, afraid that she would read the fluctuations that were silently growing in his heart.

That evening, when he returned home, he received a series of messages from his friends' group chat, with detailed plans for the beach trip, words of excitement, and occasionally indirect probing questions about whether he had decided to participate or not.

He sat at his desk, opened his laptop and intended to compose a few introductory slides for the reception of the ward representatives, but his mind kept being pulled back to the conversation with Dang Khoi at noon. He remembered his friend's tired voice and faint hurt when he said "this may be the last time I proactively compromise like that". Dang Khoi is not a bad person, Gia Huy knows that clearly - he simply values other values, values group cohesion, values the image that the group has built together throughout the school year, and in Dang Khoi's eyes, the fact that Gia Huy chose a club he has only known for only a few months instead of a long-term friendship must be a difficult thing to accept.

He reopened the old messages, re-read the chat lines from when he first transferred to school, when Dang Khoi was the first person to proactively start a conversation, invite him to his friend group, introduce him to everyone, helping him not to experience the feeling of being lost as a student transferring school in the middle of the school year like before. He remembers the afternoons spent playing soccer together, the times staying up late to study for exams together, and the short trips the group went on together. Those were not fake or superficial memories, but real moments that helped him feel less lonely throughout the past school year.

But then he thought of Quynh Nhu, of her eyes of absolute trust in the afternoon, of the many nights they stayed up late together planning, of the small mango tree that she spent her entire childhood taking care of as a way to preserve memories of her father. He thought about the eight hundred signatures of support, how much effort the whole club put into the upcoming event, and how without him in his assigned role, the whole event might not go as smoothly as planned.

He closed his laptop and lay down on the bed, holding his head in his hands. He had never felt this torn before — not because he didn't know which was the right choice rationally, but because he was afraid, really afraid, of having to face the anger and alienation of the friends who had been his strongest support throughout a tumultuous school year. That fear, he realized, was deeply rooted in the same old obsession that he had carried with him for many years of constantly moving house - the fear of being left behind, of being forgotten, of losing the foothold that he had worked so hard to gain in every place he had ever lived.

He took out his phone, intending to text Quynh Nhu to confide in him, but then put it down, afraid that if he spoke, she would notice the fluctuations in his heart, and that could make her worry and lose focus on the more important final preparations. He told himself, I will solve this problem myself, I will find a way to avoid betraying anyone - even though deep down, he also vaguely realized that there are times in life when people cannot stand firmly between two lines forever, and sooner or later he will have to step completely to one side.

He looked at the phone screen, feeling like he was standing between two strong whirlpools pulling in completely opposite directions, and despite his best efforts, he still could not find a solid fulcrum to make a final decision. That night, he fell asleep without realizing it, his sleep was full of fragmented dreams. Sometimes he found himself standing in the middle of the beach looking towards the distant garden, sometimes he found himself standing in the middle of the garden looking at the silhouette of the group of friends disappearing at the end of the road, not knowing where he truly belonged.