Chapter 24 — Swept into the Wave of Love

One year later, Ghenh Rang beach still retains the same wild and majestic beauty as it has for many generations, the waves still regularly roll onto the smooth white sand under the golden sunlight of Mui Ne. But this time, it wasn't any international season going on, but a simple, quiet morning, when the sun had just peeked over the horizon, dyeing the sky into a gentle pink-orange strip.

Viet Khoi stood on the sand, holding a small surfboard, reserved for beginners, looking down at a group of about ten children in the fishing village eagerly lining up, his eyes shining with excitement as he was given the first surfing lessons of his life by the once famous former champion of three consecutive seasons.

"Now, who wants to try first?" he asked, his voice cheerful and warm, completely different from the serious, highly focused look when he was still playing professionally.

A boy about eight years old, with tanned skin typical of coastal children, raised his hand to volunteer confidently. Viet Khoi smiled and guided the boy through the basic steps, how to lie on the board, how to row, and how to stand up at the right time when the first small wave reaches the shore. This is a free surfing class that he and Lam Khue founded together right after last year's season ended, specifically for poor children in the coastal fishing villages of Mui Ne, part of the scholarship fund named after Vu Dinh Trac that the federation established in his memory.

The class takes place regularly every weekend morning, attracting more and more children from all over the neighboring fishing villages, even a few families from as far away as Phan Thiet brought their children to register to participate after hearing about this special class. Viet Khoi and Lam Khue do not charge any fees, all classroom maintenance costs are deducted from the scholarship fund, along with a portion of their personal income that they both voluntarily contribute, seeing this as a way to give back to the sea that has nurtured both their career and love.

The eight-year-old boy, after a few wobbles, finally managed to stand on the board for a few short seconds before falling into the water, but instead of being sad, he burst out laughing, hastily swimming closer to the board, eager to try again immediately. Viet Khoi looked at that scene and couldn't help but remember how he had fallen countless times on this same sea before becoming a champion.

Not far away, Lam Khue was sitting on the sand with a group of other students, mostly shy girls who didn't dare go into the water right away. She patiently explained and illustrated with her own movements on the sand before encouraging them to try their skills in the water. Her eyes were filled with the gentleness and patience of a true teacher, completely different from the cold, defensive look of the mysterious "Khue" from previous years.

"Auntie, I'm afraid of falling like you told me earlier," one of the smallest girls in the group said timidly, looking out at the waves with a shy expression.

Lam Khue sat down at the girl's eye level, his voice gentle. "Falling is normal, honey. I used to fall all the time, and even have a scar on my hand to remember this life." She raised the back of her left hand, pointing to the crescent-shaped scar that had become an indelible part of her memory. "But thanks to those falls, I learned how to stand up more firmly. The sea is not scary, you just need to be patient and learn to listen to it."

The girl nodded, her eyes became less afraid, and finally accepted to take the small board and followed Lam Khue to the water's edge. Viet Khoi, from his position, looking at that scene, could not hide the warm smile spreading across his face. He remembered the first night he met Lam Khue at Vong Trieu restaurant, remembered the tumultuous journey the two had overcome together to have the peaceful life they have now, and couldn't help but feel deeply grateful for what fate had arranged.

At noon, when the sunlight was high, the children's parents came to pick up their children one by one. Many people stopped to chat and thank Viet Khoi and Lam Khue for spending their valuable time in this free class. A young mother, holding a small child who was not yet old enough to participate, held Lam Khue's hand, her voice emotional. "Thank you both. Thanks to this class, the children in the neighborhood have a place to play healthily, learn both discipline and love of the sea, not just staring at their phones all day."

Lam Khue smiled and humbly responded to the thanks. Her eyes followed the silhouettes of the children running home. A deep sense of satisfaction arose in her heart that she had never felt during the years of living anonymously, away from the community because of fear and guilt about her family's past.

After practice, when the children were picked up by their parents, Viet Khoi and Lam Khue sat on the sand, looking out at the sea sparkling in the midday sunlight. Lam Khue's last year's championship trophy is solemnly displayed in a small corner of the house they just built near the beach, next to it is a family photo, where the image of a youthful, radiant Vu Dinh Trac is solemnly placed, as a reminder of the meaningful journey the two have written together.

Right next to that trophy, leaning against the wall, was the old surfboard that had followed Viet Khoi for three championship seasons, the ivory white paint had now faded with time, the words he carved himself at the age of eighteen were still clearly imprinted on the tip of the board: "Waves wait for no one." He no longer uses it to compete, but had never thought of putting it in storage. There were afternoons when he just stood and looked at that line for a long time, and realized that its meaning had changed compared to the years when he was young and impatient to prove himself on the podium of glory. Now, for him, his father's words were no longer an urge to grab each wave before it breaks, but a reminder that the most precious things in life - a person to love, a truth to protect - do not wait for anyone forever, and he was glad that he did not delay when that opportunity appeared.

"This year, Uncle Long said I should come back to compete," Viet Khoi said, his voice a bit thoughtful. "He thinks I'm still in shape to win back the title."

"What do you think?" Lam Khue asked, turning to look at him with curious, not imposing eyes.

Viet Khoi pondered for a moment, looking out to sea, where each wave still steadily crashed against the shore like the breathing of the ocean itself. "I think, maybe I will try again next season, not to prove anything, but simply because I still love the feeling of riding on big waves. But whether I win or lose, I know, the most valuable thing I have is not in any trophy, but here, right now, next to you."

Lam Khue smiled, leaned her head on his shoulder, and they both silently looked at the vast ocean stretching before their eyes. The sea breeze still blows as fiercely as ever, bringing with it the familiar salty flavor, and the sound of the waves still pats the sand patiently and persistently, like a living testament to the truth that Lam Khue's father once taught her since childhood: the sea never lies, only humans know lies, but the truth, no matter how long it is buried, will eventually find its way back, just like the waves always find their way back to the shore.

"Swept into the Wave of Love," Lam Khue muttered softly, a name she once heard Cao Boi Nghi give to a series of articles telling their entire story, which has now become a familiar phrase in the hearts of surfing fans across the country. "That name really fits, doesn't it?"

"Very suitable," Viet Khoi replied, smiling slightly, squeezing her hand. "A once anonymous wave has now found its own shore, no longer having to hide anything."

He stood up, reached out his hand to pull her up, and they both walked down to the water's edge, letting the small waves gently lick their bare feet, a familiar feeling that had stuck with them both for so many years of their lives. "Want to go swimming?" he asked, his eyes as mischievous as in his younger days, without any pressure of titles or secrets.

"Who wins and who loses this time?" Lam Khue asked again, his voice full of challenge mixed with laughter.

"No points this time," he replied, pulling her hand and running quickly towards the bigger waves in the distance. Their laughter mixed with the sound of the waves and the roaring sea breeze, creating a bustling symphony of simple happiness that they both had to go through many hardships to reach.

They sat together like that all afternoon, looking at the children in the fishing village playing on the sand, looking at the waves still rushing to the shore as they have done for thousands of years, and looking at a bright future opening up ahead, where love, justice and passion blend into one, as steady as the Mui Ne beach itself that witnessed their entire journey, from a fateful anonymous night until today, when every wave has finally found its true name. own.

When sunset fell, dyeing both the sky and the sea into a familiar warm orange-yellow strip, Viet Khoi and Lam Khue still stood there, hand in hand, silently looking out to sea, where the horizon became one with the vast water surface. Mui Ne beach, the silent witness of so many ups and downs, suffering and happiness, continues to lap at the sandy shore as an eternal promise that, no matter how much time passes, the truest and most beautiful things will eventually find their way back, just like the waves never stop finding their way back to the shore.