Chapter 17 — The Arrow That Missed the Mark

The first round team match took place on shooting lane number three, right in front of the main grandstand area, where Thanh Tam could clearly see Thanh Van sitting with her parents and two old friends, all of whom were looking towards her with eager anticipation. She tried not to look that way for too long, but the feeling of being watched still weighed on her shoulders like an invisible block of stone.

Binh shot first, opening with a somewhat slower performance than usual, only achieving a pretty average score. Nam Khanh continued, still maintaining his familiar composure, scoring well to compensate. When it was Thanh Tam's turn, she stepped into position, her hands shaking slightly as she took the first arrow from the quiver on her side.

She tried to follow the exact procedure she had practiced hundreds of times — inhale, raise the bow, exhale half a breath, pull the string back to the anchor point. But this time, when the moment came to let go, her hands unconsciously tightened, deliberately controlling the moment of letting go instead of letting it happen naturally as she had practiced.

The arrow flew away, stuck in the sixth ring, completely off the high point area. A light whisper rang out from the stands, and Thanh Tam clearly felt Thanh Van's eyes looking at her, not with reproach, but with surprise mixed with worry, which to Thanh Tam right now was worse than reproach.

She tried to take a deep breath, telling herself to calm down like what Nam Khanh had taught her — not letting a bad shot affect the next shot. But the second arrow, even though she tried to control it, stuck in the seventh ring, and the third arrow, her hands shook so much that she almost completely lost control, flew completely out of the target, not scoring any points.

The roar from the stands was clearer this time, and Thanh Tam felt her face heat up with embarrassment, her hands began to tremble more clearly as she stepped out of the shooting line, not daring to look towards the stands, not daring to look Nam Khanh or Binh in the eyes.

"It's okay, there's more shots to go," Nam Khanh whispered as she passed by, his voice still reassuring, but Thanh Tam barely heard any of the words, her mind was completely engulfed in a spiral of self-blame.

The next series of shots, the situation was not much better. Thanh Tam stepped into position and clearly felt the trembling spread throughout his body, not only in his hands but also in his legs as he tried to stand. She tried to remember the familiar process, but all the techniques, all the lessons accumulated over the past months seemed to have completely disappeared from her mind, instead leaving only a paralyzing fear and a voice of self-blame echoing endlessly in her head - I'm embarrassing Ms. Van, I'm disappointing the whole team, I'm proving that I will never be good enough.

The next three arrows stuck into rings five and six respectively, and one arrow completely missed the target again. Thanh Tam's score in the competition that day was as low as it had ever been since the day she joined the club, lower than the first time she held a bow when she didn't know anything about technique.

Team Ly Thuong Kiet, although Nam Khanh and Binh tried to make up for it with their good performance, still could not avoid losing to their opponents, being eliminated in the first round of the provincial tournament - a much worse result than what the team expected after their impressive performance in the regional tournament.

When the referee announced the final result, Thanh Tam stood dumbfounded at the shooting line, not daring to raise his head to look at anyone. She felt tears threatening to well up but tried to hold it back, not wanting to cry in front of so many people. Around her, applause to congratulate the winning team rang out, making her feeling of failure even more bitter.

"Thanh Tam," Nam Khanh called, walking closer, his voice full of worry. "Are you okay?"

"I'm sorry," Thanh Tam said, her voice choked, not daring to look him in the eyes. "I'm sorry for making the team lose."

"It's not my fault," Nam Khanh said immediately, his voice firm. "Everyone has bad days, this is normal in sports."

But those comforting words, although sincere, could not reach Thanh Tam right now, when her mind was completely engulfed in feelings of shame and self-blame. She glanced toward the stands and saw Thanh Van standing up, her face full of worry, and old friends whispering to each other something that Thanh Tam couldn't hear clearly but could guess the content.

"I need some time alone," Thanh Tam said, her voice trembling, then turned and walked quickly towards the dressing room, leaving Nam Khanh standing behind with worried and helpless eyes.

In the empty locker room, Thanh Tam sank into her chair, finally letting her tears fall, tears of shame, disappointment, and a deeper sense of failure than any previous setback—not just because of her lousy grades, but because she had failed right in front of all the most important people in her life, proving, in the worst way, that her fear of never being good enough was perhaps never really wrong.

She sat there for a long time, not knowing how many minutes had passed, until she heard a gentle knock on the door, and Thanh Van's voice rang out from outside, full of worry. "Tam, can I come in?"

Thanh Tam quickly wiped away her tears, trying to regain her normal expression before responding, her voice still shaking. "Please come in."

Thanh Van walked in, saw her sister's red, swollen face from crying, didn't say anything right away but just came and sat down next to her, remaining silent for a moment before speaking. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice gentle but unable to hide her concern.

"I'm sorry," Thanh Tam said, her voice choked up, tears threatening to flow again. "I'm sorry for shooting so badly in front of you, in front of your friends. I know you must be very disappointed."

"Why do you think I'm disappointed?" Thanh Van asked, a bit surprised by those words. "I'm just worried about you, I'm not disappointed at all."

"You don't have to comfort me," Thanh Tam said, her voice suddenly becoming harsher than she expected, partly because the feeling of shame was completely dominating her mind at the moment. "I know I ruined everything. The whole team lost because of me. You and your friends are probably thinking why the legendary Thanh Van's sister is so bad."

"Tam, no one thinks like that—" Thanh Van was about to explain, but Thanh Tam stood up, interrupting her.

"You don't understand," Thanh Tam said, her voice shaking from pent-up emotions for so long. "You don't know what it's like to have to live in your shadow all the time. I just want to be alone for a while, can you go out?"

Thanh Van stood still for a second, her face flashed with pain that Thanh Tam, in her own emotions, did not have time to recognize. "Okay," she said, her voice quiet, stood up and walked out of the room, closing the door gently behind her.

Left alone, Thanh Tam sat down again, hugging her knees to her chest, letting the tears continue to flow uncontrollably. She did not know that the words she had just uttered in a fit of emotion, even though they came from real pain, had unintentionally planted a wound in her sister's heart that would take both of them a long time to heal.

Outside the dressing room, Thanh Van stood with her back against the hallway wall, holding her elbows with both hands, trying to suppress the emotions rising in her heart. She wasn't angry with her sister, but the words "you don't understand" kept echoing in her head, bringing back memories that she herself had never really faced - about the nights she used to cry alone after unsatisfactory matches, about the pressure to maintain the "legendary" image that everyone around her had assigned her, a pressure that she had probably never told anyone, including her sister.

Thanh Tam's parents came to the hallway soon after, their faces full of worry. "How's the baby?" Mom asked, looking at Thanh Van with questioning eyes.

"She needs some time alone," Thanh Van replied, trying to keep her voice normal even though her heart was still chaotic. "Mom and Dad, just wait outside the stands, let me stand here and keep watch."

Parents nodded, although their faces still couldn't hide their worry, they returned to the stands following Thanh Van's words. She stood there for a moment longer, looking towards the closed dressing room door, her heart heavy with a question she had never dared to ask seriously before - whether over the years, countless times unintentionally, she herself had become part of the reason why her sister had to endure such heavy pressure.

Not far away, Nam Khanh also stood quietly in a corner of the hallway, witnessing the entire scene of Thanh Van walking out of the dressing room with a sad face. He wanted to go see Thanh Tam immediately, wanted to tell her that a loss did not define her, but a part of him also understood that, perhaps right now, she needed time alone more than any words of comfort, no matter who it came from. He stood there, his hands clenched, his heart filled with helplessness as he saw the person he cared about drowning in a pain that he didn't know how to truly touch.