Chapter 22 — The Chorus of Those Out of Rhythm

Two days before the final night, the final practice session was officially shortened according to Dr. Phuc's advice, leaving only one hour for the group to review the most important points without putting additional pressure on Ba Nguyet's health. When the practice session ended, everyone took turns leaving earlier than usual, to take time to rest before the big day.

Mr. Kha, as usual, stayed behind to help clean up, but this time, instead of just quietly arranging chairs as usual, he stood hesitantly next to the piano, his fingers lightly touching the keys but not making any sound, as if trying to muster up the courage for something he had cherished for a long time.

"Miss Nguyet," he called, his voice shaking slightly in a way that was different from his usual calmness. "I have something to tell you. I've been meaning to say it for a long time, but I kept procrastinating."

Mrs. Nguyet stopped putting her music back together, turned to look at him, feeling the unusual seriousness in that voice. "You say it."

Mr. Kha took a deep breath, his eyes looked straight at her, no longer avoiding them like he had for nearly twenty years. "I have loved you for a long time, Nguyet. From the first days I came to accompany this singing group, when Mr. Vu was still there, when you were still a young wife and mother full of enthusiasm for music. I knew that was not the feeling I had the right to express at that time, so I buried it, telling myself that I just needed to be by your side, accompanying you through every practice session, that was enough."

Mrs. Nguyet stood still, her hand clutching the music book tightly, her heart beating faster when she heard the confessions that she had vaguely felt but never dared to believe were true.

"After Mr. Vu passed away," Mr. Kha continued, his voice increasingly trembling but still steadfast, "I still kept my distance, because I respected your pain, because I didn't want you to think I was taking advantage of your weak moment. But fifteen years have passed, Nguyet, and I realized, if I continued to stay silent, I would probably regret it for the rest of my life. Especially after your recent fall, I realized that life is too short and fragile to continue forever. waiting for a perfect moment that never comes."

"Mr. Kha..." Ms. Nguyet spoke, but her voice was choked, not knowing what to say next.

"I don't expect you to respond right away," he said quickly, fearing that her silence had a meaning he wasn't ready to face. "I just want you to know this truth, so that no matter what happens after the finale, whether you continue to see me as a companion or not, I no longer have to live with the regret of never daring to say it."

Ms. Nguyet walked up to him, placing her trembling hand on his hand on the keyboard. “You don't have to worry about how I'll respond,” she said, her voice shaking as well but carrying a warmth she had suppressed for so long. "Because actually, I've felt this feeling for a long time. It's just that I, like you, was also afraid to admit it, afraid that if I opened my heart again, I would have to face the same pain of loss as before."

"So... what are you talking about?" Mr. Kha asked, his eyes filled with cautious hope.

"I'm saying," Mrs. Nguyet replied, a gentle smile on her lips, "I've loved you too, probably for a long time, I just never allowed myself to name that feeling."

Mr. Kha stood still for a moment, as if not daring to believe what he had just heard, then he raised his hand and gently touched her face, a gesture that was both hesitant and filled with affection that had been nurtured through nearly twenty years of waiting. "So, Doan Thi Nguyet," he said, his voice trembling with happiness, "may I ask permission to accompany you, not only in music, but for the rest of your life, whether short or long?"

Mrs. Nguyet nodded, happy tears rolling down her cheeks, and in that moment, in the middle of the old hall that had witnessed their ups and downs for twenty years, two people who had silently loved each other through every note, every practice session, finally found the courage to step over the boundary of friendship, towards a new chapter of life that they both deserved to enjoy.

***

The next morning, when Thu An came to pick up her mother to go shopping for the last items for the performance night, she immediately noticed something different in her mother's eyes - a radiance that she had never seen in many years.

"Mom, what's going on? You look very happy," Thu An asked, unable to hide her curiosity.

Mrs. Nguyet smiled and told the whole story of the previous night, and when she finished listening, Thu An hugged her mother, her voice filled with emotion. "I'm very happy for you, Mom. Uncle Kha is a good person, I've realized his feelings for you a long time ago."

"Don't you think it's strange that I found new happiness at this age?" Mrs. Nguyet asked, although her voice was full of joy, there was still a bit of scrutiny, as if she needed approval from her daughter.

"Mom," Thu An replied, holding her mother's hand tightly, "happiness has no age limit. Dad would want you to be happy, I'm sure of that. And I also want you to be happy, after everything you've been through, after all the sacrifices you've made for your family and for the people around you."

Mother and daughter hugged each other in the middle of a small street, the morning sunlight shone on both of them, and in that moment, Thu An realized that the journey of the past two months not only gave her mother a chance to save the cultural house, but also gave her a chance to live more fully, to love again, after many years of hiding her heart behind the role of a stern conductor of the choir.

***

The good news about Ba Nguyet and Mr. Kha quickly spread throughout the choir during practice that evening, when the two, no longer hiding it, held hands and walked into the hall. Ms. Chin Thoa, who is always sensitive to the love stories around her, was the first to scream with joy.

"Finally! I've been waiting for this day for a long time!" she said, clapping her hands loudly, making the whole hall laugh.

"Since when have you been waiting?" Mr. Tam Loc teased, standing next to him with his arms crossed, his face as radiant as the two main characters of the story.

"Since the first day I saw Mr. Kha look at Ms. Nguyet with those eyes, it must have been more than fifteen years," Ms. Chin Thoa replied, making both Ms. Nguyet and Mr. Kha blush in the innocent witness of their friends.

Mrs. Ca Yen, from her wheelchair, smiled kindly. "Love has no age, no time is too late. I'm happy for both of you, honestly."

That warm, happy atmosphere spread throughout the hall, dispelling some of the tension of the days leading up to the final night, like a precious spiritual gift that empowered the whole group before the final challenge that lay ahead, a reminder that amidst the worries and pressures, there is always room for joy and sincere love.

In another corner of the hall, Viet Long and Ha Uyen stood looking at that scene, both smiling. "Love in this place is so special," Viet Long commented, glancing at Ha Uyen. "Maybe it's the atmosphere here that makes people vibrate more easily."

"What do you mean?" Ha Uyen asked, pretending to be innocent even though she clearly understood the implications of his words.

"What I mean," Viet Long replied, taking her hand, openly for the first time, no longer hesitantly like before, "I think it's time for me to be honest with you, just like Uncle Kha was honest with Ms. Nguyet. I like you, Ha Uyen, not just because of your work, but because of who you are — kind, steadfast, and always ready to fight for what you believe is right."

Ha Uyen blushed and squeezed his hand. "I like you too, Viet Long. From the first afternoon you came here with the half-hearted attitude of a reporter going to get news, until I realized you really cared about this story, about the people here, with all your heart, not just because of work responsibilities."

They both smiled, a happy smile in the warm atmosphere of the hall, where love, no matter what age, is silently blooming and blooming, as if this old hall itself, with all the stories it has witnessed over twenty years, is also quietly contributing to the love of the hearts that seek it out, whether it is the budding love of youth or the love that matures after many years of waiting.