Chapter 9 — The First Heartbeat

After practice that weekend, Thien Kim found herself starting to notice little things that she had never noticed before — the way Minh Vu tied his bangs up when focusing on technique, the way he always gave the last piece of cake to someone else even though he clearly had a sweet tooth, the way his voice lowered a bit every time he explained something he was truly passionate about.

She also found herself starting to prepare more carefully for Tuesday practices — not just in terms of knowledge, but also in terms of which jacket to choose and how to tie her hair, things she had never bothered with before in school.

"You seem different these days," Tuyet Mai commented one afternoon, as they both sat down to eat in the school cafeteria. "More fun, but also... more absent-minded. You just dropped your chopsticks twice in the last five minutes."

"I'm not absent-minded," Thien Kim denied, even though her face was slightly red.

"Yeah, no," Tuyet Mai giggled, not believing her friend at all. "What's up with what the club president said last night? Did he say anything else?"

Thien Kim shook his head. "No, after that day we still met normally like always. Maybe I was thinking too much."

But in her heart, she knew she wasn't overthinking it. Something had changed in the way Minh Vu looked at her, in the way he found excuses to stay longer after each class, in the way he always remembered the little details she mentioned — like the fact that she liked milk tea with less sugar, or that she was afraid of heights.

That Tuesday's practice session, only two people participated as usual - the other members gradually abandoned this voluntary session because of the tight end-of-semester class schedule. Ms. Hoa, knowing that the club had a stable practice routine between the two of them, gradually let them manage the lessons themselves without direct supervision, only stopping by to check in a few times during the session.

That day, after completing the theoretical review of burn treatment, Minh Vu suggested a different activity. "Do you want to try a trick that doesn't involve first aid?" he asked, his eyes a bit mischievous.

"What game is that?" Thien Kim asked, curious.

Minh Vu took out a small box from his backpack, inside was a blood pressure measuring kit and a small handheld heart rate monitor. "This is the instrument Ms. Hoa lent the club to practice checking vital signs. But I think, instead of practicing on a mannequin, we should try practicing on each other, to better understand the differences between each person's normal indicators."

Thien Kim nodded in agreement, although she felt a little nervous for an unknown reason. Minh Vu sat down opposite her, gently and carefully wrapping the blood pressure cuff around her arm.

“Relax,” he said, his voice as gentle as when giving regular practical instructions, but his eyes, when he looked at her in that moment, were something different—more attentive, more gentle than necessary for a simple blood pressure measurement exercise.

He pumped air into the cuff, then slowly let it out, eyes glued to the gauge. “One hundred and eleven out of seventy-two,” he read the result. "Completely normal."

"It's my turn to measure you," Thien Kim said, trying to keep her voice normal even though her heart was beating faster than what the watch had just measured.

She wrapped the cuff around Minh Vu's arm, feeling the toned muscles beneath the uniform shirt, and a feeling of confusion crept into her heart that she tried to ignore to focus on the operation. As she pumped air into the cuff, she noticed that Minh Vu was also looking at her equally intently, and for a moment, their eyes met, neither of them quickly looked away.

"One hundred and eighteen out of seventy-five," Thien Kim read the results, her voice shaking slightly. "It's normal."

"Now try measuring your heart rate," Minh Vu suggested, handing her a small handheld heart rate monitor.

Thien Kim placed two fingers on the machine's probe according to the instructions, waiting a few seconds for the machine to display the results. The number appeared: ninety-eight beats per minute — significantly higher than the average rate for a person sitting at rest.

"Eh, that's a bit high," Minh Vu commented, picking up the meter to review the results. "Are you worried about anything?"

Thien Kim felt her face get hot. "No... maybe it's just because I just exercised," she said, trying to find a reasonable reason, even though in her heart she knew clearly that the heartbeat had nothing to do with exercise.

Minh Vu looked at her for a moment, and it seemed like he also partly guessed the real reason, but didn't say it directly, just smiled slightly. "So it's my turn to measure it," he said, handing the measuring device back to her so he could put his hand on it himself.

The result appeared: one hundred and two beats per minute.

The two looked at each other in silence for a moment, then burst out laughing. No one needed to say the real reason behind those numbers anymore — the silence and laughter spoke for themselves.

"Maybe this tool is defective," Minh Vu said, his voice joking but his eyes still looking at her gently.

"Maybe so," Thien Kim replied, trying to hide her smile but failed.

The atmosphere in the medical room at that time became different, warm and had a sweet tension that both of them felt but no one had the courage to name it. Minh Vu was the first to break the silence.

"Hey Thien Kim," he said, his voice a bit more serious. "I want to tell you something, but I'm not sure if this is the right time."

Thien Kim's heart seemed to stop beating for a moment. "Go ahead," she said, her voice quiet.

"Since you joined the club, I've realized that I always look forward to practice sessions more than before," Minh Vu said, his sincere eyes looking straight at her, but then he paused, as if he was surprised by what almost slipped out of his mouth. "I'm... sorry, it's probably because today's practice session was a bit unusual, I was talking nonsense."

Thien Kim felt a slight disappointment creep into her pounding heartbeat, but at the same time felt somewhat relieved — as if neither of them were ready to name the emotion hovering between them. "You don't need to apologize," she said, her voice quiet, trying to remain calm even though her cheeks were still hot. "I... I also think there's something unusual today."

The two looked at each other for a long time, neither one said anything more, just letting the silence take on a meaning of its own without needing words to confirm. The heart rate monitor still lay between the two of them on the mat, the screen was off, but the numbers ninety-eight and one hundred and two still seemed to hang somewhere in the air.

"Okay, another day, when we're both more ready, let's talk about this in more detail," Minh Vu said, his voice had regained its familiar calmness, but his eyes, as he glanced at her one last time before standing up to pack up his tools, still lingered on something warm that hadn't been finished. "I don't want to rush and ruin what we have."

"I think so too," Thien Kim replied, feeling grateful that he didn't force her to face her own feelings sooner than she could bear. She knew, somewhere inside, this wasn't avoidance, but a rare mutual respect — they both understood that some things take time to mature, and cannot be rushed.

That day's practice session ended earlier than usual, not because the two of them had nothing left to learn, but because they both needed time to calm down after that emotional moment. On the way home, Thien Kim kept walking with a light heart, her hand unconsciously touching her wrist, where the blood pressure cuff had just been removed, as if she could still feel the warmth from Minh Vu's careful fingers.

That evening, she called Tuyet Mai and recounted this afternoon. Her voice could not hide both confusion and excitement, although she deliberately omitted the part where Minh Vu almost said something and then stopped.

"When I heard your voice, I knew something was up," Tuyet Mai giggled over the phone. "What did the club president do to you?"

"It's nothing," Thien Kim denied, but her voice betrayed herself with a small, uncontrollable laugh. "It's just... I thought, maybe we're both feeling the same thing. But neither of us is ready to say it yet."

"Then just let it ripen gradually," Tuyet Mai said, her voice gentler. "Not everything needs to be obvious right away."

"Yes," Thien Kim replied, a slight smile on her lips. "I think I'm learning that, little by little."

That night, before going to sleep, Thien Kim opened her notebook and wrote down a short line that contained so many emotions: "Today, a ninety-eight heartbeat said something that my words have not yet dared to admit. Maybe I'm not ready to name it yet, and maybe that's okay — not everything needs to be complete and clear from the beginning to be worthy of respect."