Chapter 26 — The Finish Line of Years Gone By

Son walked closer to the finish line, where Khue still stood holding the two ends of the red cloth ribbon, which was now lowered after Nhật Tiến and the athletes behind him reached the finish line safely. The surrounding crowd gradually thinned out, turning their attention to the medal awarding area, leaving a small, almost private, space between the two people.

"I kept it all these years," Son said, his voice was low, his hand gently touching the red strip of fabric that had faded a lot compared to his memories, but still had the clumsy stitching intact from a night of hard work years ago.

"I've never thought about letting it go, even though there are times when I wonder if I'm holding on to something unrealistic," Khue replied, her eyes shining with undisguised emotion. "Today, I want it to return to its rightful place — at the finish line, witnessing a real race, not lying still in a wooden box."

"Why today?" Son asked, even though he already vaguely guessed the answer.

"Because I think, it's time to stop thinking of it as a souvenir of the past," Khue said with a firm voice. "It should be a symbol of something that's ongoing, not something that's ended."

Son was silent for a moment, looking at the red ribbon, then at Khue, and in that moment, he suddenly realized that all he needed to say lay not in beautiful words, but in a specific action - just the way he has always expressed himself throughout his life, through each step rather than each word.

He took one end of the ribbon from Khue's hand, and she held the other end, and they both folded the red cloth, carefully, slowly, as if they were performing a ritual more important than any medal ceremony taking place not far away.

"I think we should find a new place for it," Son said, when the ribbon was folded into a small square. "Not in your wooden box, nor in my wallet. A place that we both see every day."

"What are you thinking about?" Khue asked, curious.

"My office is at the club. Right next to the achievement board of Nhật Tiến and other athletes," Son replied, a light smile on his lips. "So that every time I look at it, I not only remember thirteen years ago, but also remember that, no matter how harsh the circumstances, what is truly precious can always find its way back, as long as we are persistent enough." Khue nodded, her eyes filled with tears, but the smile on her lips was brighter than any moment since the day they met again. "I like that idea."

***

The medal ceremony took place immediately afterward, with Nhật Tiến standing on the podium receiving the bronze medal for seventh place overall, his face beaming even though his body was still exhausted. Mr. Vinh personally awarded the medal and shook hands to congratulate him, while Son and Khue stood in the crowd, clapping endlessly along with Huan, Ky, Diễm Khanh, and Mr. Danh and Mrs. Nhu, who were proudly looking at their son from the audience.

In his speech summarizing the tournament, Mr. Vinh announced the final numbers: more than eight thousand athletes participating in all categories, far exceeding the initial goal, with positive feedback from the community and the media, enough for the Board of Directors to officially approve the annual organization plan for the Bình Minh International Marathon in the following years. Uông Đắc Thành, standing in the back row, clapped his hands out of politeness but could not hide his pensive expression — although there was no direct incriminating evidence linking him, after a suspicious technical incident and failure to predict the project's success, he gradually lost his say in the company's strategic decisions, and three months later, asked to move to a less influential advisory position, closing a chapter of internal power competition without any serious confrontation. harsh.

Kỷ Đắc Nhân, sitting in the sponsor area, also came to briefly congratulate Khue before leaving, his eyes filled with a hint of peace, as if he had really let go of something a long time ago. That short meeting ended gently, without lingering, just the way a relationship should end when both have found their own path.

That evening, at the tournament's success celebration party area right on the beach, under simple decorative lights, not the brilliant sunset like in common love stories, both the organizing team and the participating athletes gathered together, but Son and Khue did not linger there long. They quietly separated from the crowd, walking along the beach, where the sound of waves mingled with the distant music from the party.

"There's another category tomorrow, right?" Son asked, when the two stopped at a deserted section.

"That's right," Khue replied. "The five-kilometer running race is for local people, not professional, does not count achievements, is just a community activity to close the entire series of events of the tournament."

"Are you participating?" Son asked.

"I plan to participate, even though I've never officially run before." Khue smiled, a bit shy. "I think it's time for me to no longer just stand behind the camera lens or track the time, but try running on the track myself for once."

"Then I'll run with you," Son said, holding her hand. "Not as a coach, simply as a companion."

Khue looked at him, her eyes filled with love. "I like that."

They stood there, in the middle of a dark beach, with no bright sunset, no crowd gathered to bless them, just the sound of the waves, the wind, and each other's quiet but steady presence — a simple, unvarnished moment, enough to say everything that thirteen years of separation had taught them both about the true value of love: not perfection, but perseverance.

***

The next morning, when the sun had not yet fully risen, hundreds of local people and tourists gathered at the starting area for the running category. The atmosphere is bustling and joyful, a far cry from the professional tension of the previous day — this is a playground for everyone, from children to the elderly, from amateur athletes to those trying their hand at running for the first time.

Son and Khue stood next to each other at the starting line, wearing the tournament's uniform T-shirts, no longer the coach and head of the organizing committee, but simply two companions preparing for a gentle, fun run.

Nearby, Nhật Tiến, although his body was still a bit sore from the previous day's race, was also present to cheer, standing with Huan and Diễm Khanh. Mr. Danh and Mrs. Nhu, instead of leaving early, decided to stay another day to fully witness this moment.

The host stepped onto the small stage, holding the starting whistle, preparing for the start of the final day of the Bình Minh International Marathon.

"Three, two, one..."

The whistle sounded, clear and decisive, cutting through the morning air still stained with mist from the sea. Hundreds of footsteps stepped in unison, bustling laughter mixed together, and in the middle of that crowd, Son held Khue's hand tightly, both of them ran forward, not to compete for position, not to break any records, but simply to enjoy the moment of walking together on a new path, after a thirteen-year long journey full of unexpected turns.

Behind, Nhật Tiến, Huan and Diễm Khanh also participated in the movement category, running in a small group, laughing and joking, without any pressure of achievement as heavy as the previous day. Mr. Danh stood on the side of the road, leaning on a cane, watching the figures of his son and Khue gradually disappear into the crowd, smiling slightly, while Mrs. Nhu stood next to him, gently holding her husband's hand. Both said nothing, just quietly witnessed the moment they had been waiting for a long time, since the day they had to rush to leave Vọng Hải more than a decade ago.

The red cloth ribbon, now solemnly hung in a small glass frame in Son's office at Bạt Phong Club, next to the achievement board of Nhật Tiến and other athletes, serves as a quiet but persistent reminder: sometimes, the finish line of a journey is not the end point, but just the beginning of another race, longer, deeper, and more important than all the medals or records that people have ever pursued - the race of learning to believe. to think, understand, and move forward together, not because circumstances pushed us, but because that was the choice we both decided to make, every day, from the moment the starting whistle sounded.