Chapter 14 — The Arrow That Missed the Mark

A week before the regional finals, Nam Khanh clearly noticed the change in Thanh Tam's mood since Thanh Van returned home. She still completed all the practice sessions, still tried her best, but her eyes were often more distant, and the moments of natural laughter like before were gradually becoming less frequent.

"Can I stay a little longer?" Nam Khanh asked at the end of Friday practice, when the other members had left one by one. "I want to talk to you for a moment."

Thanh Tam nodded and sat down on the familiar bench next to the training ground, where the two had had countless important conversations over the past few months. The late afternoon sky was dyed orange-red, the last rays of the day's sunlight spread across the deserted training ground.

"You don't seem very comfortable lately," Nam Khanh said, her voice gentle but full of concern. "Is it because Ms. Van came home?"

Thanh Tam was silent for a moment, looking down at her hands clasped together in her lap. "You realize that clearly?" she asked, her voice low.

"I observed you long enough to realize when you were truly comfortable and when you were tense," Nam Khanh replied, her eyes sincere. "Can you tell me? What happened?"

Thanh Tam sighed and began to recount what had happened over the past week - Thanh Van's technical suggestions, although they came from good intentions, still made her feel pressured, the moments when she caught her sister's worried eyes when she didn't shoot as expected, and the constant feeling of conflict between the love for her sister and the fear of never being able to match her.

"I know she didn't mean it," Thanh Tam said, her voice choking up a bit. "But I don't know how to stop this feeling. It's like no matter how much progress I've made, as soon as she appears, all my old fears come rushing back."

Nam Khanh listened attentively, without interrupting, giving her space to pour out everything that was in her heart. When she finished speaking, he was silent for a moment, as if weighing each word before responding.

"I think there's nothing wrong with what you're going through," he said finally, his voice deep. "Emotions are not always logical. You can both love your sister and feel pressured around her, those two things are not mutually exclusive. The problem is not how to stop feeling pressured, but how to not let that feeling dictate how you play next week."

"It sounds easy, but it's hard to do," Thanh Tam said, laughing softly, although that smile carried a bit of bitterness.

"I know," Nam Khanh nodded, not denying. "But I believe you can do it. Do you remember when you first joined the club? You used to be sad all day just because of one round of nine. Looking back now, do you see how far you have come?"

Thanh Tam was silent, thinking about that question. She remembered her first training session, the feeling of severe disappointment when the arrow didn't hit the center, and compared it to her current self — still under pressure, still afraid, but having learned how to get up faster, how to look at things with a broader perspective.

"I've come a long way," she admitted, sounding a little relieved.

"That's right," Nam Khanh said, smiling. "And I believe that next week, whether Van is there or not, I will still carry everything I have learned into every arrow I shoot. Not because I am no longer afraid, but because I have learned how to shoot well even though I am still afraid."

That sentence, repeating the familiar philosophy he had shared many times, this time carried a different weight, touching Thanh Tam's heart more deeply. She looked at Nam Khanh, the sunset reflected in his eyes, and felt a deep gratitude welling up in her heart - grateful to have met someone who always listened patiently, always believed in her even when she didn't believe in herself.

"Thank you," she said, her voice shaking slightly with emotion. "I don't know how I would have gotten through these past few months without you by my side."

"I overcame it myself with my own perseverance," Nam Khanh replied, shaking his head slightly. "I'm just standing by. But if that means anything to you, then I'm glad I was there."

The two sat silently for a while, watching the sunset gradually fade over the training ground, the air between them filled with a warm closeness that needed no words to describe. The afternoon wind blew gently, carrying the scent of newly cut grass from the school yard, and in that peaceful moment, Thanh Tam felt that all worries about Thanh Van, about the upcoming tournament, seemed to temporarily subside, giving way to a rare feeling of peace.

"Hey man," Thanh Tam spoke up after a moment of silence, his voice hesitant. "What I was about to tell you at the fair... do you remember?"

Nam Khanh turned to look at her, his eyes flashed with surprise and then softened into a light smile. "I remember," he replied. "But I think now is not the right time. Next week is the final, I don't want you to be distracted by anything, including what I want to say."

"Just keep your promise," Thanh Tam said, smiling, even though there was a bit of regret and anticipation in his heart. "I'll wait, after the final."

"I promise," Nam Khanh replied, his eyes filled with sincerity and a warmth that was hard to name, making Thanh Tam's heart flutter slightly.

It was completely dark when the two stood up to pack their things and leave. On the way out the school gate, no one said much more, but that silence was not awkward, but filled with a peaceful understanding between the two of them, as if everything that needed to be said had been said in a way that did not require words.

Returning home, Thanh Tam felt much more relieved than she had during the past week. She went up to her room, took out her notebook, and wrote the last lines of the day with a rare peaceful mood. "Today I talked to Mr. Khanh about my worries related to Ms. Van, and I felt a lot more relieved after letting out everything I was harboring. I thought, maybe what I need is not to completely stop being afraid before competing, but to learn how to carry that fear more gently, just like how I am learning to carry my feelings for someone whose name I haven't dared to name yet."

She closed the book, turned off the light, fell asleep with a slight smile on her lips, filled with hope for the upcoming important competition week, and for the good things that were waiting behind it.

The remaining days before the final round passed with a dense but controlled practice pace, just like what Nam Khanh and teacher Kien had planned from the beginning. Every afternoon, the entire team including Thanh Tam, Nam Khanh and Binh spent time reviewing techniques, simulating competition conditions, and most importantly, spent a short time at the end of each session to chat, relieving the psychological pressure that was gradually accumulating day by day.

Thanh Van, during the remaining days at home before having to return to the city to work, also gradually adjusted the way she expressed her concern. Perhaps realizing some of her sister's tension through a few subtle observations, she began to limit her technical comments, instead simply coming to watch, clapping and cheering, and avoiding direct comparisons between the two sisters as before.

"I'm sorry if I went a little overboard a few days ago," Thanh Van said one evening, as the two sisters sat together watching TV in the living room. "I just want to help you prepare as best as possible, but maybe I forgot that you need to find your own way, not follow exactly what I used to do."

That unexpected apology surprised Thanh Tam, and she felt some of the pressure in her heart gradually disappear. "You don't need to apologize," she replied, smiling at her sister. "I know you only want the best for me. Maybe you also need to learn how to express your feelings more clearly, instead of keeping it inside and exhausting yourself."

"So when you're free, let's sit and talk more," Thanh Van said, putting her arm around her sister's shoulder. "I think there are many things we've never really said to each other, no matter how many years we've lived in the same house."

"Yes," Thanh Tam replied, nodding, even though he knew in his heart that a truly profound conversation still needed more time and courage for both of them to fully open up. But at least, she felt a small door had just been opened, a good sign for what might come later.

The night before leaving for the regional finals, Thanh Tam checked her belongings one last time, her mood mixed between nervousness and a new calm that she had never felt in the days before the qualifying round. She looked out the window, watched the starry night sky, and secretly hoped that tomorrow, no matter the outcome, she would be able to carry all the valuable lessons she had accumulated over the past months into every arrow she shot.