Chapter 18 — The First Heartbeat

During the following week, Thien Kim avoided the Red Cross Club in every way possible. She used the excuse of being busy studying for final exams to not attend Thursday's activities, turned off her phone at times when she knew Minh Vu could text, and even changed her route to school to avoid passing by the infirmary - the place that used to be her favorite place in school, now became a place she was afraid to face.

Minh Vu, during those days, tried to contact her many times, but every time he texted to ask, Thien Kim's responses became increasingly brief and distant. "I'm fine, just busy studying for exams" was her repeated answer, even though they both knew that wasn't the whole truth.

On Friday, when they happened to meet each other in the hallway between two classes, Minh Vu proactively approached, his eyes full of worry. "Thien Kim, do you have time to talk for a moment?" he asked, his voice gentle but full of sincere concern.

"I'm sorry, I have to go to extra class now," Thien Kim replied, her eyes avoiding looking directly at him, her voice hurried. "Can it be another day?"

She walked away quickly, leaving Minh Vu standing there in the middle of the hallway, a look of disappointment flashed across his face that he tried to hide but wasn't entirely successful. This was the third time this week Thien Kim found an excuse to avoid a direct conversation with him.

The situation became even more complicated when, that weekend, Ms. Hoa called Thien Kim, asked in a worried voice about her situation, and accidentally mentioned a detail that made Thien Kim even more confused. "Minh Vu told me about what happened in the cafeteria," Ms. Hoa said. "He asked her if she should temporarily arrange for another member to replace him in charge of the foreign object treatment station during the final review session before the exam, so that he wouldn't have to endure extra pressure."

Hearing that, a sharp pain pierced Thien Kim's chest. She understood that Minh Vu's intentions stemmed entirely from concern, from the desire to protect her from unnecessary pressure during this sensitive period. But in her traumatized, overly sensitive psychological state, Thien Kim interpreted it in a completely different direction.

"So he thinks I'm not capable anymore," she whispered to herself after hanging up the phone, tears welling up in her eyes again. "He thinks I'm a burden, someone who can't be trusted anymore."

Little did she know that, in fact, Minh Vu himself had struggled a lot before making that proposal to Ms. Hoa — not because he had lost faith in her, but because he was worried about her mental health, afraid that if he forced her to face directly the exact situation that hurt her too soon, it could cause deeper psychological damage. It was a decision that came from love and understanding, but was conveyed through an indirect channel, not coming directly from his own mouth, causing its true meaning to be completely distorted in Thien Kim's hurt mind.

That Sunday, Minh Vu, worried because he hadn't been able to really talk to Thien Kim for a whole week, decided to go straight to her house without warning - a rare impulsive action for someone who is always careful and thoughtful like him. He stood in front of Thien Kim's gate, ringing the bell, his heart beating fast because he was as nervous as the first time he confessed his feelings under the phoenix tree.

Thien Kim, when she saw Minh Vu standing in front of her gate through the security camera, felt a surge of panic. She wasn't ready, her mind was still too chaotic to face him directly, to look into his eyes and not know if she saw disappointment, pity, or worst of all, loss of faith in them.

"I'm sorry, I'm not very well," she said through the doorbell, her voice shaking, without opening the gate. "Is it okay another day?"

A short silence rang out from the other side, then Minh Vu's voice spoke, somewhat confused and hurt. "Okay, it's okay. I just... I just want to make sure you're okay. I'll be home."

Through the camera, Thien Kim saw Minh Vu standing there for a moment, as if he wanted to say something more, but in the end he just shook his head slightly, turned and left with a slow, heavy look that was different from his usual confident steps. That scene made Thien Kim's heart clench, but she still didn't have the courage to run to open the gate, to call him back.

That night, Minh Vu texted her, his writing tone was a bit more cautious than usual, as if he was also trying to fumble for the right approach: "I'm sorry for coming suddenly without warning. I'm just worried about you. If you need private space, I will respect that. But I want you to know, the Club, and me, are always here when you're ready."

Thien Kim read the message, but in her mind, the words "private space" and "when you're ready" were interpreted as a signal confirming that Minh Vu was also keeping his distance from her, that he also felt like he needed time to rethink their relationship — completely contrary to his true intentions, which were simply wanting to respect her needs without adding pressure.

She did not respond to that message, just put down the phone, curled up on the bed, feeling an invisible distance growing between her and the person who, just a few weeks ago, she had begun to believe would accompany her on a longer journey.

In the following days, that misunderstanding grew exponentially, when both, for different reasons but both stemming from sincere feelings, became even more timid and cautious in their approach to each other, each afraid of hurting or putting more pressure on the other, without realizing that it was that excessive caution that was pushing them further apart than ever.

The following Monday, at the club function that Thien Kim was forced to attend because it was an important meeting to assign tasks for the upcoming certification exam, she deliberately chose a seat as far away from Minh Vu as possible, in the corner of the room near the window. She bent down to take notes, avoiding all eye contact, although she clearly felt that Minh Vu still glanced in her direction from time to time.

When Ms. Hoa announced the list of assigned practice stations for the weekend review session, Thien Kim's name no longer appeared at the foreign object treatment station as usual, but was transferred to be in charge of the bandaging station - exactly as Ms. Hoa had mentioned on the phone. Even though he had been informed in advance, hearing that change officially announced in front of the whole club still made Thien Kim feel like a slap to his already hurt self-esteem.

She lowered her head and bit her lip to keep from crying right in the middle of the meeting. In her head, the voice of self-blame echoed endlessly: this was the proof, the clearest confirmation that she was no longer trusted, that the role of vice president she once proudly assumed was now just an empty title.

After the meeting, when everyone gradually dispersed, Minh Vu tried to approach Thien Kim again, but this time, instead of avoiding with words, she just quietly packed up her books quickly and joined the flow of people out of the room before he could get close. From afar, she caught a glimpse of his eyes following her, a look that was both worried and somewhat helpless - but in her mind that was completely dominated by fear, that look was interpreted as something completely different: disappointment, gradual surrender.

On the way home alone that day — the first time in many weeks she did not go with Minh Vu — Thien Kim passed by the same road they used to walk together after the festival, past the phoenix tree where he had given her a small roll of gauze. She stopped for a moment, looking at the familiar stone bench, feeling like that whole happy time belonged to another life, far away and untouchable anymore. She pulled the small roll of gauze out of her coat pocket — she'd always carried it with her since the day she received it — looked at it for a long moment, then put it back in her pocket, not having the courage to throw it away but no longer feeling as comforted as she had before looking at it.

The east wind blew, much colder than the chilly November afternoons when she was sitting here with Minh Vu, chatting under the warm light of the lamp. She pulled up the collar of her coat and continued walking home, her heart heavy as if she were carrying an invisible burden that no one could see but herself.