Chapter 19 — Seeds After the Rain

At the garden, that Sunday morning began with rare gentle rays of sunlight amid the year-end weather. Quynh Nhu was present at six o'clock in the morning, with Anh Duong and a few other members rushing to complete the final stages - hanging banners, arranging tables and chairs, checking the sound system. She kept looking towards the garden gate, hoping that Gia Huy's familiar figure would appear even though last night's text message said he couldn't come.

"Without Gia Huy, who will welcome the ward representative?" Anh Duong asked, her voice worried when she saw that the clock had struck seven thirty.

"I'll pick it up myself," Quynh Nhu replied, trying to keep her voice calm even though her heart couldn't help but feel uneasy. "Gia Huy has an unexpected family matter. We can't blame him. We'll manage."

But the reality is not as simple as that assurance. At exactly eight o'clock, the group of guests began to arrive - not only the ward representatives as expected, but also a reporter from the city education newspaper who wanted to write a follow-up article about the project after the previous article, along with a few parents and former students. The number of guests was larger than initially expected, while the coordination team lacked the most experienced person in improvisation.

Quynh Nhu, who is good at her profession but is quite timid when having to communicate with strangers, especially guests with status such as government representatives, was clearly confused when she had to lead the group on a tour, answer interviews with reporters, and keep an eye on the seeding experience area, which was showing signs of being overloaded because of the large number of children participating at the same time.

"Excuse me, can you wait a moment?" she said to the ward representative, her voice somewhat frantic as she had to run to solve a problem that had arisen in the experience area, where some parents were complaining about not having enough seats for their children.

Anh Duong tried to share the work, but she was also busy with the project's historical display area and could not manage all the stages at the same time. Thao and other members, although enthusiastic, still lack experience to flexibly handle such unexpected situations.

In the middle of the session, when the official speech of the principal and the ward representative took place, the sound system suddenly had a problem - it was the equipment that Gia Huy was in charge of borrowing and thoroughly checking before, but because he was not present to handle the technical problem in time, the speech had to be paused for nearly ten minutes to find a solution, causing the ceremony atmosphere to become awkward and lose the necessary solemnity.

The ward representative, although he did not show any obvious discomfort, could not hide his impatience as he kept looking at his watch, perhaps because he had to attend another meeting immediately afterward. When the free tour took place, he only went through a few areas before asking permission to leave earlier than expected, not having time to participate in the summary and direct discussion with the club as originally planned - the most important part that the group hoped would leave a deep impression, convincing him to support the plan to keep the garden.

The event, although still taking place and attracting a certain number of visitors, clearly did not achieve the effectiveness as initially expected. When seeing off the last guests around noon, Quynh Nhu stood silently at the garden gate, her face showing exhaustion and disappointment.

"I'm sorry," Anh Duong said, coming to stand next to her friend, her voice also heavy. "We should have prepared a backup plan more carefully, in case we were short of people."

"It's not your fault," Quynh Nhu replied, her voice choked. "It's just... I thought Gia Huy would never let me down at the most important moment like that."

She said that sentence not with harsh reproach, but with a deep sadness, which hurt the listener much more than anger. Teacher Binh, standing nearby witnessing the entire morning's events, sighed and placed his hand on Quynh Nhu's shoulder. "Don't jump to conclusions," the teacher said, his voice calm. "Maybe she really has an important reason. But I have to be honest, this morning didn't meet our expectations, and that could have a significant impact on the upcoming school board's decision."

That afternoon, when Gia Huy, sitting on the beach with his group of friends, turned on his phone to check the news, he received a text message from Thao, briefly recounting what happened at the event - sound problem, the ward representative leaving early, an awkward atmosphere covering the whole morning. He read each line of the message, feeling like there was a heavy rock pressing on his chest, making it impossible for him to focus on anything around him, even though the cheerful laughter of the group of friends still echoed loudly right next to him.

He texted Quynh Nhu, his hands trembling as he typed each word: "I heard what Thao said. I'm sorry." The message appears viewed after a while, but there is no response. That silence, more terrifying than any reproach he could imagine, made him sit absent-mindedly in the middle of a crowded beach, feeling like a lost person completely unfamiliar with the very scene he had sacrificed so much to be present.

"Gia Huy, let's take a group photo!" Tuan called out from afar, waving his hand to signal him to come closer to where the group was posing in front of the rented camera lens. Gia Huy stood up, walked over, tried to put a smile on his face when the camera turned towards him, but that smile was so empty that even Dang Khoi, standing next to him, realized something was wrong.

"What's wrong with you?" Dang Khoi asked quietly, when the recording session paused midway for everyone to rest. "From the moment you went to sea until now, you've been like a lost soul."

"It's nothing," Gia Huy replied, trying to hide the insecurity rolling in his heart. "Just a little tired."

But Dang Khoi, although sometimes indifferent to things that do not directly concern him, is still sophisticated enough to recognize the awkwardness in that answer. "Is everything wrong in the garden?" he asked, his voice somewhat reserved, as if he vaguely felt some responsibility in this situation.

Gia Huy was silent for a moment, then briefly told what Thao had just texted — the sound problem, the ward representative leaving early, the disappointment implicit in each text message from the club's friends. After listening, Dang Khoi's face was a bit pensive, but then he spoke again, his voice as if he was reassuring himself more than comforting Gia Huy: "Well, what's happened can't be changed anymore. You're already here, just enjoy the trip, go home and figure it out."

That statement, even though it came from good intentions, made Gia Huy feel even more suffocated. He looked at the scenery around him - the sunny beach, the laughter of his group of friends, the exciting group games going on - but all of those things, which had always made him feel comfortable and integrated, now became strange, as if he were standing looking at everything through a layer of frosted glass, unable to really touch or feel the joy around him.

Throughout the rest of the afternoon, Gia Huy tried to participate in activities with his group of friends, but his mind kept returning to the garden, to the disappointed face he imagined on Quynh Nhu's face, to the scary silence from her side all afternoon. He checked his phone continuously, hoping there would be some response message, even if it was just a word of reproach, rather than this prolonged silence.

At night, when the group gathered around the campfire on the beach, singing and laughing, Gia Huy quietly separated from the group and went to the water's edge, standing alone looking out at the vast dark sea. The sound of crashing waves mixed with distant laughter from the campfire, but his heart was left with a heavy emptiness. He took out his phone again, looked at the conversation with Quynh Nhu, his last message was still there, only the small "Seen" text below, no other response.

He sat down on the sand, hugging his knees, feeling completely out of place for the first time in months, not belonging anywhere — not among the group of friends having fun not far away, nor in the small garden he had gradually come to consider his most familiar place. He sat like that for a long time, until the campfire light behind him was just a faint halo, and the sound of ocean waves became the only sound left to accompany the chaotic thoughts in his heart.

He remembered Anh Duong's words the night before the event — "not every choice can please everyone" — and realized, now, he fully understood the meaning of that statement in the most painful way possible. He chose, and the price of that choice was not only an awkward morning without a coordinator, but perhaps also the trust that Quynh Nhu had in him, something he wasn't sure if he could get back after tonight.