Chapter 4 — The First Heartbeat

After a difficult CPR practice session, it took Thien Kim nearly two days to regain the confidence to enter the medical room. Not because she intended to give up — the words in the notebook had become a small promise she didn't want to break — but because every time she thought of Duc and Linh's eyes when they saw her freeze, she felt a hot flash of shame rise to her cheeks.

But on Tuesday, when he happened to meet Duc in the cafeteria, his friend just waved goodbye as if nothing had happened, and even asked her if she wanted to sit and eat with her. That made Thien Kim realize that perhaps that shame only existed in her mind, and did not occupy such an important position in the minds of others.

At the club meeting that Thursday, Minh Vu announced a small change in the organization. "From this week, in addition to the main activity on Thursday, we will have an additional voluntary practice session on Tuesday afternoon, for those who want to practice more," he said. "It's not mandatory, just an opportunity for those who need some extra practice before taking the basic first aid certification exam at the end of the semester."

Thien Kim raised her hand to register immediately, without any hesitation, even though in her mind she knew clearly that the real reason was not just because she wanted to practice more skills.

The first voluntary practice session on Tuesday had only four participants: Thien Kim, a 10th grade girl named Hanh, and most surprisingly, Minh Vu himself was also present to instruct directly instead of letting the members practice together like the main session.

"Miss Hoa is busy in a meeting today so I'm in charge of this meeting," Minh Vu explained when he saw Thien Kim's slightly surprised eyes. "Today we will review bandaging, and practice situation assessment — this is just as important as hand technique."

"What is your assessment of the situation?" Hanh asked, still twirling the roll of gauze.

"Before doing anything, we need to look at the overall situation first," Minh Vu explained, pulling out a chair to sit across from the group. "For example, someone falls to the ground. Before running, you need to ask: Is the scene safe? Are there any dangers threatening both the victim and the rescuer, such as vehicles, electric shock, smoke and fire? If you rush in without evaluating, sometimes you become the second victim."

He gave a few hypothetical situations for the group to discuss: a person faints in a crowded bathroom, a student falls from the stairs, a person gets minor burns in a chemistry lab. For each situation, Minh Vu lets the whole group come up with the steps to handle first, then add and edit.

Thien Kim realized that she had a tendency to jump straight to the technical steps — bandage, stop the bleeding, call an ambulance — and often forget the first step of assessing the scene. She noted that down carefully in her notebook, reminding herself that this was a flaw that needed to be fixed.

"I think everything should be done as quickly as possible," Thien Kim said, a bit hesitant when Minh Vu asked why she always skipped the evaluation step. "I'm afraid if I delay even a second, the situation will get worse."

"I understand that feeling," Minh Vu nodded, without any criticism in his voice. "But actually, taking three to five seconds to look around won't significantly delay the rescue process. On the contrary, it will help you avoid mistakes that could make the situation much worse than if you were a few seconds late."

"For example, what?" Hanh asked.

"For example, if a person is electrocuted and you rush to pull them out without turning off the power first, you may be electrocuted too, and then there will be two victims instead of one, and no one will be conscious enough to call for help," Minh Vu explained. "That's why the evaluation step always comes first, even if it only takes a few seconds."

Thien Kim nodded, feeling that this was reasonable, but there was still some resistance in her heart — to her, "slowing down a few seconds" still sounded like an unacceptable risk, even though logically she clearly understood the reasoning behind it.

After the theoretical part, the group moved on to practicing bandaging with more complicated situations than the previous session: bandaging a head wound, immobilizing a sprained joint with a temporary splint, and how to use a triangle bandage to hang a broken hand. Thien Kim, although still overly cautious, was much more confident than in the beginning, her hands no longer shook when starting each operation.

When it came to fixing the brace for a hypothetical sprained wrist joint, Minh Vu suggested pairing up with Thien Kim to practice while Hanh practiced with a prosthetic dummy.

“Try it on my hand,” he said, holding out his arm.

Thien Kim took the thin plastic brace, placed it along Minh Vu's forearm, then began to wrap a fixed triangle bandage around it. The distance was so close that she could clearly feel the warmth of the skin of his hand, and her heartbeat, for some unknown reason, began to beat a little faster than necessary for a simple practice exercise.

"You're wrapping your hands much more securely," Minh Vu commented, observing her actions. "Compared to the first bandaging session, there is a clear improvement."

"Really?" Thien Kim looked up, unable to hide the joy in her voice.

"Really," he nodded, smiling. "You're the type of person who, once determined to learn, learns very quickly. I noticed that from the first day."

That compliment made Thien Kim feel a warmth spreading in her chest, different from the constant feeling of tension every time she thought about what she didn't do well enough. She lowered her head, pretending to concentrate on fixing the end of the bandage to hide the embarrassment on her face.

"Can I ask something?" she asked, her voice small, her hands still working.

"Ask."

"Why are you the president of this club? I mean... you seem really good, there must be many other options to join."

Minh Vu was silent for a moment, his eyes looking far away towards the window, where the afternoon sunlight was gradually turning yellow. "In 9th grade, my grandfather had a stroke right at home, when I was alone there," he said, his voice a little deeper than usual. "I didn't know what to do, I just called an ambulance and waited. Those fifteen minutes were the longest fifteen minutes of my life. He was fine, luckily there were no serious complications, but from then on I told myself I would never let myself be helpless like that again."

Thien Kim stopped and looked at him intently. She did not expect that Minh Vu, who always appeared calm and confident to the point of being almost flippant, also had a story similar to hers - a moment of helplessness that shaped the path he chose to follow later.

"So... you were as scared as I was," she said, almost a whisper.

"Everyone has been afraid," Minh Vu replied, turning to look at her, his eyes sincere. "The only difference is what you choose to do with that fear. You choose to learn, choose to teach others what you learn, so that fear is no longer an invisible obsession, but becomes something useful."

That sentence remained in Thien Kim's heart for the rest of the practice session. She realized that perhaps the path she was taking - rushing to learn first aid, carrying a medicine bag with her at all times - was not at all different from the path Minh Vu had chosen. The only difference was that he had found a way to turn that fear into something lighter, while she was still carrying it like a tight burden.

At the end of the practice session, when Hanh left first, Thien Kim stayed behind to help Minh Vu clean up his equipment. They worked in comfortable silence, occasionally exchanging a few short sentences about how to rearrange the toolbox neatly.

"Thank you for today," Thien Kim said when they both finished putting everything in the closet.

"No thanks, this is the club president's job," Minh Vu smiled, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

"No, I want to thank you for sharing your story," she added, her voice sincere. "It helps me feel... a little less alone, knowing there's someone else going through the same feeling."

Minh Vu looked at her for a moment, his eyes gentle. "You're not alone, Thien Kim. There are many people here, in this club, all with their own stories. It's just that not everyone is willing to share from the beginning."

On the way home, Thien Kim passed by a small park near her house, sat down on a stone bench, and let the cool afternoon breeze flow through her hair. She thought about Minh Vu's story, about the image of him, in 9th grade, sitting helplessly next to his grandfather, waiting in extreme fear for the ambulance to arrive. That image made him, in her eyes, no longer a perfect, absolutely confident club leader, but a real person, with his own scars and fears, just like her.

And strangely, instead of making her lose faith in him, it made her trust him more.

That night, before going to bed, Thien Kim opened her notebook and wrote a new line below the previous lines: "Today I learned that the person I thought was the most perfect person in the club was also afraid like me. Maybe no one is truly perfect - everyone just chooses to face fear in a different way." She read the words again, nodded slightly to herself, then turned off the light and went to sleep with a rare feeling of peace that she had never felt in the past three years.