Chapter 23 — The First Heartbeat

During the voluntary practice session that Tuesday, Thien Kim returned to the medical room for the first time after nearly three weeks of absence. The feeling of walking through that familiar door was both strange and familiar, as if she was returning home after a stormy trip.

Only Minh Vu and her were there, just like the familiar practice routine. But the atmosphere between the two was different now — no longer the awkwardness and reserve of the previous weeks, but a new, deeper closeness, built from the sincere conversation they had had with each other two days ago.

"Before I start reviewing," Minh Vu said, sitting down across from her, "I want to tell you the rest of the story about the man who drowned last year. I think, you deserve to know the whole truth, not just the part I told you before."

Thien Kim sat up straight, listening attentively, feeling the seriousness in his voice.

"I told you that I did CPR for more than twenty minutes, but that person didn't survive," Minh Vu began, his voice low, his eyes looking distant as if lost in memory. "But there was a part I never told anyone, not even Ms. Hoa. During those twenty minutes, there was a moment, around the fifteenth minute, when I was almost exhausted, I had the thought of stopping. Not because I thought that person was completely dead and couldn't be saved anymore, but because my body was so tired, my hands were so sore that I could barely feel them, and a selfish thought flashed through my mind — that maybe I should let another volunteer continue, so I could rest."

He paused for a moment, as if admitting this was still difficult even after more than a year. "I didn't stop, I continued for another five minutes before switching with another volunteer. But that thought, even if it was only for a few seconds, haunted me for a long time afterward. I wonder whether, if I hadn't had that selfish thought, even for a split second, the outcome would have been different. I know medically it's almost impossible to change the final outcome, but guilt doesn't always follow logic."

Thien Kim felt his heart tighten when he heard that story, realizing that this was the deepest, most painful part of Minh Vu's story that he had never shared with anyone - not because he hid his failure to save people, but because he hid a moment of weakness that was very human, very normal, but made him feel deeply ashamed.

"How can you forgive yourself for that?" she asked, her voice gentle.

"I'm not sure I've completely forgiven myself," Minh Vu admitted, a sad smile crossing his lips. "But I learned to accept that I am human, and humans have weak moments, even in life-or-death situations. That doesn't make me a bad person, or a bad first aider. It just shows that human limits are real, no matter how carefully we prepare."

He looked at her, his eyes filled with sincerity. "I'm telling you this, because I want you to understand, even me, the person you always thought of as a model of calm and confidence, also had moments of wanting to give up, moments of feeling like I wasn't strong enough. The difference is not that I never have those moments, but that I've learned to not let them define my entire being."

"Thank you for trusting me to tell me," Thien Kim said, her voice emotional. "I think, this is exactly what I need to hear, not to compare my pain with anyone else, but to understand that none of us are truly perfect, even the people we admire the most."

"That's right," Minh Vu nodded. "And I think, that is the true meaning behind the saying 'no one can save everyone' that I said in the first activity, the saying that made you so uncomfortable. I don't mean to say that we should give up and not try our best. I just want to say that our own limits are inevitable, and accepting that is not a failure, but a necessary part of being able to continue trying without collapsing."

Thien Kim smiled, a rare, genuine smile of relief during the past few weeks. "I think I finally understand it, even though it's been a long and painful road to get here."

"Nothing worth having comes easy," Minh Vu said, a warm smile on his lips. "Now, can I start studying for the exam? There's only three days left."

They spent the next two hours reviewing all the skills they had learned over the past four months—CPR, bandaging, splinting, situation assessment, basic triage. Thien Kim, although still a little shaky at the beginning of each exercise, no longer froze like the first CPR practice. She realized that the biggest difference was not that she had completely stopped being afraid, but that she had learned how to continue taking action even when fear was still there.

"You're making amazing progress," Minh Vu commented after she completed a near-perfect CPR practice. "Looking at you now, no one would think you just went through such a difficult period."

"Perhaps that difficult period taught me more things than previous successful training sessions," Thien Kim replied, a deep contemplation evident in her voice. "I think, I need to experience freezing, hitting rock bottom, to really understand what it means to get up after failure, instead of just reading about it in books."

The practice session ended later than usual, and both felt exhausted but full of hope. When Minh Vu brought Thien Kim home as had become a habit, the atmosphere between them was warmer and more comfortable than ever, as if the three weeks of separation had only made the bond between the two become stronger when they found each other again.

On the way home, when passing by the phoenix tree in the school yard, Thien Kim proactively stopped and pulled Minh Vu to sit on the familiar stone chair, where he had given her a small roll of gauze more than a month ago. "I want to tell you one more thing," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "About returning to the club this Saturday."

"I'm listening," Minh Vu replied, sitting down next to her, the distance between the two was now naturally close, no longer awkward like before.

"I think, I will ask Ms. Hoa and the group's permission to share my story again, including the part about the freezing in the cafeteria, in front of the entire club," Thien Kim said, her voice a bit shaky but full of determination. "I think, if I keep hiding it, let everyone guess for themselves about what happened, it will only make me feel more embarrassed. But if I proactively speak out, like the way I told the story of little Bin in the Festival, maybe I will regain my confidence faster."

Minh Vu looked at her, his eyes filled with admiration. “I think it was a very brave decision,” he said. "And I believe, everyone in the club will receive it with understanding, not judgment. We all have our own moments of weakness, it's just that not everyone dares to say it like you."

"Will you be there with me?" she asked, her voice a bit hesitant.

"Of course," Minh Vu replied immediately, without any hesitation. "I will always be there, whether you need me or not."

That sentence, simple but full of weight, made Thien Kim feel a warmth spreading throughout her chest. She looked up at the night sky through the phoenix leaves, clearly feeling a profound change taking place in her heart — not some sudden, magical change that completely erased fear, but a slow, sustainable change, built from sincere conversations, from falling and getting up, from the patience of those around her.

That night, Thien Kim wrote in her notebook, this time with a deep peace that she had never felt before: "Today I learned the deepest part of Minh Vu's story - about the moment he also wanted to give up. I realized that perfection does not exist in anyone, even the person I admire the most. The important thing is not to never be weak, but to learn how to stand up after each weak moment, and keep going. This Saturday, I will tell my story in front of the whole club — this time not to teach others techniques, but to learn how to live with my own imperfections."