Chapter 20 — Seeds After the Rain

Gia Huy returned home on Sunday night with a heavier mood than ever. He did not fully participate in the fun of the trip as planned, most of the remaining time he just sat quietly in a corner, causing a few friends in the group to notice the difference but no one asked further, perhaps because they did not want to ruin the overall happy atmosphere.

On Monday morning, when arriving at school, Gia Huy went to the garden during the first recess, despite having to miss a few minutes preparing for the next class. He needs to meet Quynh Nhu, needs to explain, needs to apologize directly instead of just through soulless text messages.

When he arrived, he saw Quynh Nhu alone trimming a few flower pots that were trampled during yesterday's event. Her face was sad but still trying to focus on her work. She looked up when she heard footsteps, her eyes flashed with surprise and then quickly returned to a calm and somewhat distant look.

"Hello," she said, her voice gentle but lacking the familiar warmth. "Is everything okay with your family?"

That question, although asked with outward concern, was like a gentle slap on Gia Huy's conscience, because he knew clearly that it was a lie that he himself had created. He stood there for a moment, feeling that all the explanations he had prepared in his mind suddenly became confused and difficult to say.

"Like, I'm sorry," he said, his voice shaking. "The truth is that I didn't have any family matters. I went to the beach with a group of close friends, and I lied to my friends because I didn't have the courage to tell the truth."

Quynh Nhu stopped, stopped pruning, and stared at him in silence for a long time. "I know," she said finally, her voice alarmingly calm. "Thao told me yesterday, he saw a photo of the beach trip on Dang Khoi's story."

Gia Huy felt like someone had just poured a bucket of cold water on him. "So why didn't you say anything when you texted me back?" he asked, his voice choked.

"Because I don't know what to say," Quynh Nhu replied, put down the pruning shears, and stood up straight to face him. "I thought, maybe you would tell the truth yourself when you were ready. But I didn't expect to have to wait until today, after everything had happened."

"I'm really sorry," Gia Huy said, stepping closer, his eyes earnest. "I know I was wrong. Dang Khoi put a lot of pressure on me. I was afraid that if I didn't go, I would lose that important friendship, and in my moment of weakness, I made the wrong decision."

"I understand peer pressure is real," Quynh Nhu replied, her voice still remaining calm but containing an undisguised pain. "I don't blame you for choosing to hang out with a group of close friends. That's your choice, and I respect that. But what hurts me the most is not your absence, but the fact that you lied to me. I trusted you absolutely, gave you the most important role in the event, and instead of being honest with me, you chose to lie to avoid facing each other."

Those words, although spoken in a gentle tone, carried more weight than any harsh reproach Gia Huy could have imagined. He felt his whole body tremble, a feeling of shame and regret invaded his entire mind.

"I'll do anything to make it up," he said, his voice pleading. "Give me a chance to fix things."

Quynh Nhu was silent for a long time, her eyes looking down at her dirty hands. "I need time," she said finally, her voice tired. "Not just because of what happened yesterday, but because I need to rethink whether I should continue to trust, continue to rely on someone who can easily throw away promises when faced with pressure."

That sentence was like a knife cutting deep into Gia Huy's heart. He wanted to say something more, wanted to explain more clearly about the struggle he had gone through, about the inherent fear that had haunted him for many years of constantly moving house, but looking at Quynh Nhu's exhausted and hurt eyes, he realized that this was not the right time to defend himself.

"I understand," he said softly, bowing his head. "I'll give you time. But I hope you know, I really cherish this garden, cherish the club, and cherish you, more than anything else."

Quynh Nhu did not respond, just nodded slightly, then returned to continue her unfinished pruning work. Gia Huy stood there for a moment, then quietly left, his heart heavy with a feeling of loss that he had never experienced before - not the pain of having to leave a place due to objective circumstances like previous moves, but the pain of personally losing something precious because of his own weakness and lack of courage.

In the following days, the atmosphere between Gia Huy and the club became clearly awkward. He still comes to the garden regularly, still tries to complete all assigned tasks, but the closeness and absolute trust that he once had from Quynh Nhu and the whole group seems to have been irreparably broken. Anh Duong, although not saying it directly, still kept a certain distance from him, her eyes were no longer as friendly as before the incident.

News of the upcoming school board meeting, only two weeks away, made the atmosphere even heavier. After the incident of the event, the chances of convincing the school board to keep the garden seem to have narrowed significantly. Teacher Binh, even though he tried to encourage the group, could not hide his worry every time he mentioned the results of the recent event.

Meanwhile, at school, Gia Huy's relationship with his close friends did not become smoother as he had hoped when making that decision. Dang Khoi, even though he was present on the beach trip, still noticed the distance and awkwardness in Gia Huy's attitude throughout the trip, and perhaps also somewhat felt the torment hidden behind his friend's forced smile.

"Are you still sad about what happened that day?" Dang Khoi asked, when the two happened to meet each other in the school hallway one midweek morning.

"It's not really sad," Gia Huy replied, trying to keep his voice calm. "It's just that things are more complicated than I thought."

"I vaguely heard that the event that day didn't go very well because of you," Dang Khoi said, his voice had a rare hint of guilt. "I didn't know it was that serious. If I had known, maybe I wouldn't have pushed you so hard."

Gia Huy looked at his friend, realizing that this was probably the closest thing to an apology that Dang Khoi could say, even though he still didn't fully understand the extent of the hurt that decision that day had caused. "It's okay," Gia Huy replied, even though he knew in his heart that things weren't that simple. "It's my choice, I have to take responsibility for myself."

But deep down he understood, the problem wasn't in blaming anyone, but in himself — in the way he let his old fear, the fear of losing a familiar place, completely control his decisions at the most important moment, regardless of what he knew was more morally and emotionally correct.

That evening, while sitting alone in his room, Gia Huy reopened his notebook to record what he had learned from the garden over the past few months - a small habit he had started since seeing Quynh Nhu always take careful notes in her diary. He turned to the nearest page, where he had scribbled a few lines of feelings after a successful inter-school exchange, with words full of excitement and pride. He compared it to the feeling of emptiness and guilt weighing down his chest right now, and realized how big the gap was between those two states, all because of one wrong decision on a weak night.

Gia Huy, every night, tosses and turns, blaming himself endlessly for the wrong decision he made. He looked at the mango tree every time he visited the garden, recalling the story Quynh Nhu once told about "it's better to accept the risk of being attached and possibly losing, than living your whole life in false security", and realized that he, in the most important moment, chose that path of false safety, and now is paying the price with the very thing he cherishes most - the whole garden is at risk of being wiped out, and the relationship he has worked so hard to build. for many months, now they are shaking more violently than ever.

He closed the notebook, put it on the desk, turned off the light and lay down, but his mind kept spinning with the question he couldn't find a satisfactory answer to - would he still have enough time to fix everything, or would the remaining two weeks before the school board meeting be enough to watch all the hard work of the whole club disappear in regret, just like how he let Quynh Nhu's trust in him crumble in just a single night of weakness.