Chapter 13 — The Stage of the Unsaid

When Kien arrived home, his parents were already waiting in the living room, both of their faces showing seriousness. On the table, a tablet was open, displaying a short video - footage from the phone of an audience member attending this afternoon's rehearsal, capturing the moment Kien stood in the middle of the stage, completing the emotional climax.

"Can you explain to Mom and Dad?" his father asked, his voice unusually cold. "Mom and Dad have made it clear that I can only participate in behind-the-scenes work."

Kien stood still, clearly realizing that he could no longer hide the fact that he was taking on the main role. "I'm really sorry for not telling you guys sooner," he said, his voice shaking but trying to hold his ground. "But this is an important opportunity, and you have proven that you can overcome the fear that has haunted you for the past four years."

"We don't care about you 'overcoming your fear,'" his mother said, her voice filled with undisguised concern. "We're just concerned that, if this goes viral, if someone recognizes you as the boy in the old video, you'll have to face ridicule again. We really don't want to see you get hurt again."

"This is completely different from last time, mother," Kien argued, his voice more determined than he expected. "This time, I'm not alone. I have friends who truly support me, a teacher who believes in me, and..." he hesitated for a moment before continuing, "someone who is always by my side in every difficult moment."

His parents exchanged glances, seemingly pondering something. "Are you talking about that club president girl?" his father asked, his voice somewhat questioning.

"Her name is Anh Thu," Kien replied, his voice sincere. "And she's helped me more than anyone else since that incident."

"We understand you have feelings for that girl," his mother said, her voice softening a bit but still filled with worry. "But you need to remember, you still have to complete your study abroad application in the next few months. If you let yourself be too distracted by this club, by this relationship, your future may be at risk."

"I really don't think that pursuing my passion means losing my future," Kien replied, his voice still calm even though his heart was full of turmoil. "I believe, I can balance both."

The conversation lasted for nearly an hour, with many tense arguments between the three people, before ending with a temporary compromise: Kien was allowed to continue participating in the play until the end of the regional festival, but had to commit to giving absolute priority to his studies and study abroad application after that, and his parents asked to meet Ms. Huong in person to discuss further.

That night, Kien lay in bed, unable to sleep, his mind reeling with mounting worries - about family pressure, about an uncertain future, and about the unfinished sentence he had not yet confided to Anh Thu before being interrupted by his mother's call.

The next morning, when he told Anh Thu the whole incident during recess, she couldn't hide her worry. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice filled with guilt. "Maybe, because of me, you have to face this pressure from your family."

"This is not your fault," Kien replied immediately, his voice resolute. "This was my choice, and I don't regret it. I'm just... worried about what will happen after the festival ends."

Anh Thu was silent for a moment, naturally holding his hand. "We'll face each step together, boy," she said, her voice filled with determination. "Right now, the most important thing is to complete this play well. We will find a way to resolve other things later."

Kien nodded, clearly feeling the comfort of her steady presence, although in his heart, the worry about the future had not completely disappeared. Unbeknownst to both of them, at that moment, in another corner of the school, Gia Bach was silently watching all the developments around them, gradually forming a plan in his heart that he, even though he clearly knew it was wrong, still could not stop himself from considering implementing it, under the increasing pressure of the scholarship that he believed was the last chance of his life.

That afternoon, when the rehearsal was about to start, Duy Anh discovered that one of the main lights on the stage - the most important device for the climax scene in act five - suddenly had a problem and could not turn on despite carefully checking the wiring.

"That's strange," Duy Anh muttered, disassembling the lamp cover to check inside. "This light was working perfectly fine last week."

Upon closer inspection, he discovered that an internal connection wire had broken abnormally, unlike normal technical errors caused by natural wear and tear. "Someone deliberately damaged this," he told Anh Thu, his voice filled with suspicion, when she came to check on the situation.

"Are you sure?" Anh Thu asked, unable to hide his worry at that possibility.

"I can't be 100% certain," Duy Anh replied, "but this cut is too clean, too intentional to be an accident."

The rehearsal that day had to be adjusted, using lower quality backup lights for the climax scene, making the lighting effects no longer as perfect as before. Ms. Huong, upon hearing the report of the incident, could not hide her concern, but decided not to make a fuss about it in front of the entire club, fearing that it would cause unnecessary tension during the important sprint period.

"I will silently pay more attention," she told Anh Thu and Duy Anh after practice. "But if this is truly intentional sabotage, you need more concrete evidence before you can act."

That evening, when Ngoc Diep heard Anh Thu recount the incident, she could not hide her own suspicions. "Have you thought about the possibility of being Gia Bach?" she asked directly, her voice filled with caution. "I've noticed that he seems different lately, coming in early and leaving later than usual for no apparent reason."

Anh Thu pondered for a moment before responding, his voice full of hesitation. "I don't want to suspect anyone without concrete evidence. Gia Bach has been with the club for three years, I don't think he would do something that could harm the whole team."

"I also hope not," Ngoc Diep said, her voice still a little worried. "But you should also be more careful, especially during a critical period like this."

That warning made Anh Thu worried all evening, although she still tried not to let unfounded suspicions affect the overall spirit of the entire cast before the remaining important rehearsals before the regional festival.

As for Gia Bach, after committing that first act of sabotage in an impulsive moment filled with remorse, he spent a sleepless night, torn between feelings of guilt and fear of being discovered. He lay in bed, looking up at the ceiling, wondering if he was turning into someone he never wanted to be — someone willing to harm the group he had been with for three years, just because of his personal fear and jealousy.

“What are you doing,” he whispered to himself in the dark, holding his head in both hands in pain. "This is not who I want to be."

But just when he was determined to stop, to never repeat that foolish action again, a message from his sister appeared on his phone screen, asking about the progress of preparing for the festival, along with a reminder about the family debt that had been piling up since her accident. Looking at that text message, the fragile determination that had just formed in Gia Bach's heart wavered violently, caught between his conscience and the despair of the responsibility to his family that he felt he had to shoulder.

He didn't reply to the message right away, just put the phone face down, trying to chase away the chaotic thoughts tearing at his mind. But deep inside, he knew clearly that the internal battle between conscience and despair was far from over, and he, even though he didn't want to admit it, still couldn't be sure which side would win in the remaining stressful days before the festival, when time was running out and pressure from all sides continued to increase.