Chapter 21 — The Arrow That Missed the Mark

Part V — Consistency Not Perfection

Thanh Tam's mother, after weeks of watching her daughter become more and more withdrawn, finally called Thanh Van and told her everything — Thanh Tam's withdrawal from the individual tournament, the fact that she barely left her room outside of school hours, and the dusty bow that had been lying silently in the corner of her room for the past few weeks.

"I think I should visit you again," my mother said over the phone, her voice filled with worry. "I don't know how to get her to open up anymore. She keeps saying it's okay, but when I look at her, I know that's not the case."

Thanh Van, even though her coaching job was in a busy period, still decided to take another weekend off to go home, this time not to watch her sister compete, but simply to be by her side, and most importantly, to fix what she felt she had unintentionally contributed to.

She arrived home on a Saturday afternoon, unannounced as usual, and found Thanh Tam sitting in her room, books open on the table but her eyes looking aimlessly out the window, clearly not concentrating on any lesson at all.

"Are you home yet?" Thanh Tam asked, a bit surprised to see her sister appear at the door, her voice still filled with caution since the last time the two of them had a tense conversation in the gym locker room.

"Yes, I'm home," Thanh Van replied, walked into the room, sat down on the edge of the bed. "I think we need to talk, really talk, not avoid it like the past few weeks."

Thanh Tam was silent, feeling a familiar anxiety rising, but this time, mixed with it was also a vague relief, as if a part of her had been waiting for this moment for a long time without daring to admit it.

"I'm sorry for that day," Thanh Tam said first, her voice trembling. "What you said to me in the locker room... you shouldn't have said that. You know I didn't mean to pressure you."

"I'm also partly at fault," Thanh Van replied, her voice gentle but full of sincerity. "I've been thinking a lot since that day, Tam. And I realized maybe it's time for me to tell you some things that I've never told you, or even my parents."

Thanh Tam looked at her with curious eyes mixed with worry. "What do you want to say?"

Thanh Van took a deep breath, as if preparing herself to open up about something she had kept secret for a long time. "You know, when I was still competing, everyone always looked at me as a 'legend', a perfect example. But the truth is, behind that medal, I had to spend countless sleepless nights out of fear, countless times crying alone in the locker room just like you just did, I just never let anyone see it."

"You too?" Thanh Tam asked, her voice full of surprise. She never imagined that her sister, whom she always considered a perfect role model, had also experienced similar emotions.

"That's right," Thanh Van nodded, her distant eyes as if recalling a past time. "I remember a tournament, when I was in twelfth grade, I had a terrible match just like you just had. I missed many shots, losing in the first round to a much weaker opponent. At that time I thought I had ruined everything, and thought about giving up."

"So why don't you give up?" Thanh Tam asked, his voice lowered.

"Because teacher Kien didn't let me give up," Thanh Van smiled lightly, a smile mixed with nostalgia. "He told me the same thing I think he's trying to tell me now — that one loss doesn't define you, and that giving up is truly the only failure that can't be fixed."

Thanh Tam remained silent, letting those words sink into her heart, feeling a deep sympathy that she had never had with her sister before. She always looked at Thanh Van as a perfect, flawless symbol, but now, knowing that she had also experienced similar moments of weakness, the invisible gap between the two sisters seemed to be gradually narrowing.

"Why have you never told me this story?" Thanh Tam asked, with a slight reproach in her voice.

"Because I'm scared," Thanh Van admitted, her voice sincere. "I'm afraid that if you know that I've also failed, you won't admire me anymore. I also have my own ego, Tam, I also want to be recognized by you as talented and perfect. But I don't realize that the fact that I always only tell success stories, always present myself as a perfect role model, has unintentionally created terrible pressure on your shoulders, making you think that you have to achieve the same perfection to be worthy of recognition."

That sentence made Thanh Tam speechless, an important piece in the picture of the relationship between two sisters was finally put in place. She realized that, over the years, both sisters had been carrying their own fears and pressures, but no one was brave enough to say them, so that they could truly understand each other.

"I never thought you would feel pressure from me," Thanh Tam said, her voice still filled with shock. "I always thought pressure only flowed one way, from you to me."

"Family pressure never flows one way," Thanh Van replied, smiling sadly. "I'm the first child, my parents always expected me to set a good example for you. Then later, when I achieved some achievements, everyone expected me to continue that path, and unintentionally, I became the yardstick that I was compared to, even though I never wanted to be that yardstick for anyone, including you."

"So what do you want me to do?" Thanh Tam asked, her voice a bit confused, as if she was looking for a clear direction amidst the chaos of emotions.

"I don't want you to do anything, other than be yourself," Thanh Van replied, holding her sister's hand. "I want you to shoot archery because you enjoy it, not because you think you need to prove anything to me. I want you to fail when you need to fail, succeed when you deserve to succeed, and most importantly, I want you to know that whether you hit the target or miss it completely, our love for you will never change."

Thanh Tam's tears began to fall, not because of pain like before, but because of a deep feeling of relief, as if a burden she had been carrying for many years had finally been laid down. "I'm sorry for pushing you away," she said, her voice choked up. "I'm sorry for saying hurtful things to you that day."

"I forgive you, from the moment I walked out of the dressing room that day," Thanh Van said, pulling her sister into a tight hug. "I just wish I had talked frankly with you sooner, so you wouldn't have had to carry this burden alone for so long."

The two sisters hugged each other for a long time, letting the tears and emotions pent up over the years flow freely, no longer suppressed by shyness or fear of hurting each other. When they finally let go of each other, they both smiled, even though their faces were still wet with tears, a smile of liberation and understanding that they had both been waiting for a long time.

"So what are you going to do next?" Thanh Van asked, wiping her tears, her voice became softer. "With the bow, with the club, with... the captain that mom told me about?"

Thanh Tam laughed, her cheeks turned slightly red at that unexpected question. "Did mom tell you that too?"

"Mom told me everything," Thanh Van chuckled. "But that's for later. For now, I think you should ask yourself, after everything just said, do you still want to pick up the bow again?"

Thanh Tam looked towards the dusty bow on the corner of the table, this time with a completely different look - no longer a fearful avoidance, but a sincere consideration, and in her heart, the answer gradually became clearer than ever.

"I think... I still want to pick it up," she said, her voice still shaky but more certain than before. "I remember that feeling, sis. I remember the feeling of standing in front of the shooting line, breathing evenly, and letting the arrow fly like I practiced. I just... don't know how to face everyone after hiding for so long."

"Let's start with the easiest people first," Thanh Van suggested, standing up to get a tissue to wipe her tears. "Your parents will definitely welcome you with all their arms, I'm sure of that. As for the club, and that captain, maybe it will take a little more courage, but I believe you can do it."

"Do you think I should talk to my parents first?" Thanh Tam asked, drying her tears, feeling a new vitality gradually returning to her heart.

"I think so," Thanh Van nodded. "Not because the order is more important, but because those are the people closest to me, and perhaps, are also the people I need to tell clearly about my feeling of being compared the most, so that this doesn't happen again, not only with me, but maybe in the future also with my cousins, or anyone else in my family."

Thanh Tam nodded, feeling a new determination forming in her heart, different from the pressured perfectionist determination she had when she first entered the Archery Club nearly a year ago. This time, that determination does not come from the fear of having to prove yourself, but from a sincere desire to live fully as yourself, with all the failures and successes, no longer bound by the invisible shadow of anyone else.