Chapter 24 — The First Heartbeat

Saturday, two days before the certification exam, the Red Cross Club's weekend practice session took place in the multipurpose room as usual, with the full participation of all members preparing for the exam next Monday. This is the first time Thien Kim has faced the entire club since the incident in the cafeteria nearly three weeks ago.

When she entered the room, a few curious and surprised eyes turned towards her - apparently the news that she was absent from many consecutive sessions had spread throughout the club, although no one knew the exact reason. Tuyet Mai, although not a member of the club, specifically asked permission to attend this session to mentally support her close friend.

Before the official review session began, Ms. Hoa, as previously agreed with Thien Kim, took a few minutes to introduce herself. "Today, before reviewing, Thien Kim has something to share with the group," she said, looking at Thien Kim with encouraging eyes.

Thien Kim stood up, her heart beating fast but no longer panicking like the previous times when she had to stand in front of a crowd. She looked around the room and saw familiar faces — Duc, Phong, Trang, Hanh, and even newer members — all listening attentively, without any judgmental eyes like she had imagined.

"As you may know, three weeks ago, there was an incident in the cafeteria," she began, her voice trembling slightly but firmly. "A student choked on a foreign object right in front of my eyes, and I... I completely froze. There was nothing I could do, even though I was the vice president of the club, even though I had just taught dozens of parents how to handle that exact situation just a few weeks ago."

The whole room was silent, no one interrupted, just listening attentively with eyes full of sympathy.

"After that I withdrew, avoiding everyone, including Minh Vu, because I was too embarrassed, too afraid that people would think I was no longer worthy of this position," Thien Kim continued, her voice gradually becoming stronger as she felt the silent support from those around her. "But I realize, hiding doesn't solve anything. I want to tell everyone, the truth is, even though I've learned a lot, even though I've improved a lot in the past four months, I still have limitations, weak moments. And I think, that's not something to be ashamed of, but something that all of us, everyone can encounter."

She briefly told the story about baby Bin three years ago to the new members who had never heard it, about the connection between the old obsession and this freezing, and about the journey she had gone through in the past three weeks to find her confidence again.

"I'm not telling this to make people pity me," she said, ending her sharing. "But because I think, if any of you have ever had similar moments, ever felt like you weren't good enough, I want you to know, you're not alone. And more importantly, one failure doesn't define our entire worth."

A short silence filled the room after she finished, then Duc, the friend who had practiced bandaging with her in the first class, stood up to clap, and soon the whole room applauded in unison, not a social clap, but a sincere, warm recognition.

"Thank you for sharing," Trang said, her voice emotional. "Actually, last year, when I first joined the club, I also froze during an emergency practice session, even though it was just a simulation. At that time, I also thought I wasn't suitable for this club, but now listening to you tell it, I realize, maybe it's just a normal part of the learning process."

Similar shares continued to resound from several other members, each recounting their own moment of weakness that they had never dared to speak out before. Thien Kim sat there, listening, feeling a deep connection with the group that she had never experienced before — not a connection based on achievement, on perfection, but on a shared understanding of the very human limitations that everyone carries.

Ms. Hoa, observing the whole situation with a warm smile, finally spoke to end the sharing. "I think this is the most important lesson this club can teach you — not just first aid techniques, but how to face your own limitations, and keep trying despite those limitations. Now, let's start studying for Monday's exam."

The review session went smoothly, with the spirit of solidarity and mutual support clearer than ever. Thien Kim practices the skills with restored confidence, not absolutely perfect — she still misses a few times in CPR, still doesn't wrap the bandage quite evenly in a few maneuvers — but she no longer panics at those small mistakes, simply adjusts and continues.

At the end of the session, when everyone was cleaning up, Tuyet Mai pulled Thien Kim to a corner and hugged her friend. "I'm so proud of you," she said, her eyes red. "You just did something that many adults don't have the courage to do - stand up in front of a whole group and fully admit your weakness."

"I don't think I could do it without you, without Mr. Minh Vu, without Ms. Hoa," Thien Kim replied, her voice emotional. "I think, I finally understand what I wrote in my notebook four months ago — I don't have to be perfect to deserve to be there."

On the way home, Minh Vu accompanied her as usual, both were filled with a feeling of relief and warmth after the meaningful sharing session. "You know," he said, "when I saw you standing in front of the whole club today, telling your story without shying away from any part, I felt more proud of you than ever before, even when you handled it so well at Community First Aid Day."

"Why is that?" Thien Kim asked, a bit surprised.

"Because that time, you shared about a success, even though it also required a lot of courage," Minh Vu explained. "But today, you shared a failure, your weakest moment, in front of people you cared about, people you feared would underestimate you. That is the hardest kind of courage, and you did it."

Before saying goodbye at the gate, Minh Vu hesitated a bit, then asked more. "How are you mentally preparing for the exam on Monday? There are only two days left."

"I think I'm ready, at least more ready than I thought I could be," Thien Kim replied, a small smile on her lips. "I can't promise that I won't tremble, won't make any small mistakes. But I think, this time, if I tremble or make a mistake, I won't let it drown me like before."

"That is the most important thing," Minh Vu nodded, his eyes full of pride. "This exam does not evaluate whether you are perfect or not, it only evaluates whether you have mastered enough basic knowledge and skills to handle common situations. And I believe, you have been ready for that for a long time."

"Thank you for not giving up on me, even when I tried to push you away," Thien Kim said, her voice sincere. "I think, not many people can be as patient as you have been with me for the past three weeks."

"I also learned a lot from this," Minh Vu replied, his voice thoughtful. "I realized, sometimes loving someone is not about trying to fix all their problems right away, but about learning to wait patiently, giving them space to find their own way back, while still letting them know that you are always there."

The two of them stood there for a long time in front of the house, neither of them in a hurry to say goodbye, enjoying the peaceful moment after an emotional day. In the end, Minh Vu was the one to break the silence. "Well, you should go rest, you still have to keep your strength up for the exam. I'll text you encouragement tomorrow night."

"Okay, see you Monday," Thien Kim replied, smiling, then turned and walked into the gate of her house, filled with a peace and hope that she had not felt during the past three painful weeks.

That night, before going to bed, Thien Kim opened her notebook and reread the first line she wrote four months ago: "Tomorrow, I will try to believe that I don't have to be perfect to deserve to be there." She looked at that line for a long time, flipping through the next page, reviewing the whole long journey - the times she fell, the times she got up, the lessons about triage, about limits, about patience, and even her own most painful story that she finally dared to tell in its entirety. She picked up the pen and wrote below, for the first time with absolute certainty and no hesitation: "Today, after all I've been through, I don't just believe it anymore. I've lived it."