Chapter 2 — Swept into the Wave of Love

Vong Trieu Restaurant is located right next to the water's edge, the coconut leaf roof flickers with warm yellow string lights, acoustic music emanates from a small speaker placed next to the bar mixed with the steady sound of waves outside. This is where athletes and locals often gather every evening before the season, a neutral space where people can temporarily forget the pressures of competition, sit and sip a few drinks and chat under the starry sky.

Viet Khoi walked in when it was already dark, wearing a thin linen shirt, his hair still damp from the sea water from his afternoon bath. He chose a seat hidden in the corner, where few people would notice, ordered a glass of light wine, then leaned back, letting the music and waves lull him into a rare state of relaxation. Tomorrow, the qualifying round officially begins, and tonight, he just wants to be a normal person, without titles, without cameras pointing at his face.

The shop was quite crowded, mostly familiar faces from the surfing world, mixed with a few curious tourists stopping by. Viet Khoi took a sip of wine, his eyes absentmindedly looking out at the sandy yard where several couples were dancing slowly to the music. He wasn't usually one for noisy gatherings, but something in the air tonight made him want to stay longer than usual, as if his body was telling him there was something worth waiting for.

And then he saw her.

The girl sat alone at the bar, a few steps away from him, wearing a baseball cap pulled down to cover nearly half of her face, her long hair falling down her shoulders, hiding the rest in the dim darkness of the string lights. She wore a thin dark jacket, the sleeves were rolled up to reveal slim wrists, and on the back of her left hand, under the yellow light, Viet Khoi glimpsed a small crescent-shaped scar, faint but clear enough to be imprinted in her memory.

She was smiling, a smile curled up at the left corner of her lips, partly mocking, partly amused, as she talked to the bartender about something Viet Khoi couldn't hear clearly. Her voice was low, a bit hoarse, as if she had just gone through a sleepless night or had screamed hoarsely to cheer someone on, but that hoarseness carried a strange charm, making the listener want to stay longer to listen more.

Viet Khoi didn't know why he stood up and walked closer to the bar. Perhaps it was the curiosity of someone who was so familiar with the same faces that repeat every season, now suddenly encountering something new that cannot be named. He ordered another drink, stood at a polite enough distance from her, and then asked softly:

"First time visiting Mui Ne?"

The girl turned, her eyes under the hat were only partially revealed, but enough for Viet Khoi to see that her eyes were sharp and bright, as if assessing him in a split second. "Why do you think that?"

"Because otherwise, you already know this place is always noisy the night before the tournament," he replied, his voice gentle and slightly humorous. "The locals and athletes are all familiar, but I'm new."

She laughed softly, her laughter mixing with the music. "Sometimes I'm just good at hiding my face."

That answer, at that time, Viet Khoi just considered a charming joke, but did not expect it to have a completely different meaning considering what would happen later. He sat down on the empty chair next to her, without asking her name, without asking what she did or where she came from. There was an implicit agreement between the two people, that tonight they were just two strangers meeting on the beach, no need for identities, no need for the past, just the present moment.

They talked about the ocean, about the most beautiful waves each of them had ever seen, about the feeling of standing on the board when the first wave lifted one out of the water. She talked about waves with an understanding that surprised Viet Khoi, the way she described the rhythm of a big wave, the way she read the direction of the wind before it changed direction, all with professional precision, as if she was not an ordinary tourist but someone who had spent her whole life attached to the water.

"Are you surfing?" he asked, unable to hide his curiosity.

She shrugged slightly, her smile curled up again. "Maybe. But tonight I don't want to talk about waves or tournaments. I just want to sit here, drink a glass, listen to music, and forget everything tomorrow."

Viet Khoi nodded, accepting the hidden rules of the game. He was also looking for exactly that — a calm before the storm of the tournament, a night without titles, without heavy expectations. They talked about idle things, about an old movie they both had seen, about the seafood pancakes at a small restaurant in the fishing village that she casually mentioned, startling him with its suspicious accuracy - that restaurant was only known to locals.

"How do you know that shop?" he asked, squinting slightly.

"Just heard what people said," she replied quickly, a bit evasively, then quickly changed the subject by ordering two more glasses of wine. The smile on her lips still didn't fade but something flashed in her eyes, a very slight alertness that no one would notice if they didn't pay close attention.

The night went by, the music gradually changed to slower songs as the restaurant emptied of customers. Viet Khoi and the strange girl moved to sit on the wooden steps leading down to the sandy beach, where they could see straight out to the night sea, the moonlight spreading a sparkling silver streak on the gently rolling water surface. The cool sea breeze blew past, blowing her hair lightly, and in that moment, under the moonlight, Viet Khoi glimpsed her facial features more clearly - a slender chin, lips slightly curved at the corners, and sparkling eyes that reflected the moonlight like two small spots of light in the middle of the night.

He wanted to pull the hat off her head, wanted to see her full face in the light, but something stopped him. Perhaps it's an instinctive respect for someone who seems to be intentionally keeping a distance, intentionally hiding a part of himself. Instead, he just gently held her hand that was resting on her thigh, his fingers grazing the small crescent-shaped scar on the back of her left hand.

"What's with this scar?" he asked softly.

She was silent for a moment, looking out to sea, her distant eyes as if lost in some memory. "Due to a bad fall, when I was a child. First lesson in life, something like that."

Her voice then lowered, no longer joking like before, but carried a sadness that flashed very quickly and then disappeared, like a wave hitting the shore and then receding immediately. Viet Khoi did not ask further, just gently squeezed her hand, a wordless gesture of comfort. They sat together like that for a long time, without saying anything else, just listening to the sounds of the waves, the wind, and each other's breathing in the quiet space of the sea night.

When she leaned her head on his shoulder, her hair smelled of sea salt mixed with a bit of wildflowers, Viet Khoi felt something in his heart move slightly, a strange feeling that during three years of living in the glory of a champion, he had never felt from anyone else. Not the admiration of fans, not the flattery of the media, but a genuine, simple connection, between two strangers under the moonlight.

They did not say they loved each other or make any promises for tomorrow. That night was just a brief moment, a gentle kiss under the moonlight as she raised her head to look at him, her warm lips touching his for a few short seconds before she pulled back slightly, whispering something he couldn't fully hear, only catching the last few words: "...thank you for tonight."

Then she stood up, pulled her hat lower, and said she had to go home because she had a lot of work to do tomorrow. Viet Khoi intended to hold her back, wanted to ask her name, phone number, ask anything to find her again later, but she quickly left, her figure disappearing into the dark path leading out of the beach, leaving him sitting alone on the wooden steps, still feeling the warmth of her hand.

He sat there for a long time after she was gone, looking out at the night sea, his heart filled with emotions that were hard to name. He didn't know her name, didn't know her face clearly, only remembered her soft and attractive husky voice, the crescent-shaped scar on the back of her left hand, and the smile that curled up at the corner of her left lip every time she said something funny or sarcastic. Those three small details, seemingly meaningless, were etched deeper into his mind than any face he had ever met.

That night, Viet Khoi returned to his small house near the beach, lay in bed but couldn't sleep. He kept thinking about the strange girl, about the way she talked about ocean waves with deep understanding, about her slightly sad eyes when mentioning the scar on her hand. He wondered if he would ever see her again, in the middle of a small coastal city but crowded with tourists and athletes from all over every season.

Little did he know that the answer would come much sooner than he thought, and in a way that would turn his whole world upside down. Tomorrow, when the first sunlight shines on Ghenh Rang beach, the qualifiers for the Golden Wave Mui Ne tournament will officially begin, and in the list of athletes stepping out to warm up in the early sunlight, the name "Khue" will stand there, waiting to write a completely different chapter of the story that tonight is just the beginning.

Viet Khoi finally fell asleep to the sound of waves echoing in the distance. His fitful sleep was filled with fragmentary images of the moonlight, of the crescent-shaped scar, of the smile that curled one side of his lips that never left his mind even though he tried to put it aside to focus on the important upcoming competition day.