Chapter 14 — The Stage of the Unsaid

The important meeting between Kien's parents and Ms. Huong took place the following Friday afternoon, at the club office. Anh Thu, even though he was not invited to attend directly, still lingered nearby, feeling nervous for Kien.

The conversation lasted nearly an hour. Ms. Huong, with tact and many years of experience working with students, clearly presented Kien's remarkable progress, how he had learned to manage his anxiety in a healthy way, and about the importance of letting him prove his maturity on his own rather than continuing to live in the shadow of an incident that happened four years ago.

"I understand your concerns, as parents," Ms. Huong said, her voice sincere. "But I believe, sometimes, the best way to protect our children is not to prevent them from all risks, but to equip them with enough confidence and support to face those challenges on their own."

After the conversation, Kien's parents left the office with their expressions softening significantly compared to the beginning. When Kien came to ask about the results, his mother looked at him for a long time before speaking.

"Your teacher is right," she said, her voice much softer. "Perhaps, we were so worried that we forgot that you are much older than the fourteen-year-old boy that day. We will let you continue to participate in the festival, but we hope you understand, it's because we trust you, not because we stop worrying."

Kien hugged his mother, his voice choked with emotion. "Thank you mom, thank you dad. I promise I won't disappoint you."

That news brought a huge wave of relief to both Kien and Anh Thu, who had been worried all week about the possibility that he might have to withdraw from the play. The rehearsal that afternoon took place in a particularly exciting atmosphere, the whole cast put all their energy into perfecting the final details before the official competition day which was less than three weeks away.

After rehearsal, when Kien and Anh Thu stayed to clean up together as usual, Kien decided that this was the right time to complete the unfinished sentence from the night of rehearsal.

"Hey Thu," he called, his voice a bit shaky but full of determination. "I still owe you an unfinished sentence."

Anh Thu stopped completely, turned to look at him, his heart beating faster at the seriousness in his eyes. "I'm listening," she replied softly.

Kien took a deep breath, his eyes filled with sincerity that could not be hidden. "Since the first day I stepped into this club, scared, closed, not trusting anyone, you have been patient by my side, without judgment, without forcing, simply being present, believing in me even when I didn't believe in myself. I think, throughout that journey, I gradually fell in love with you, in a way that I was never mentally prepared to accept."

That sincere confession, not flowery but full of weight, made Anh Thu stand still, her heart pounding so loudly that she could feel every beat in her chest. "Kien..." she said, her voice shaking with emotion.

"You don't have to answer right now," Kien continued, his voice gentle, without any pressure. "I just want you to know, this is what I truly feel, and I don't want to keep holding it in anymore."

Anh Thu looked at him, his eyes filled with a complex emotion between happiness and a bit of vague worry. "I have feelings for you too, honestly," she admitted, her voice quiet but absolutely sincere. "But I... I'm a little scared. Afraid that if we take another step right now, while we're both fully focused on the play, things might get more complicated."

"I completely understand," Kien replied, nodding respectfully. "We don't need to rush. The most important thing right now is to finish the play well, just like you said. But I want you to know, my feelings won't change, no matter how long we decide to wait."

Anh Thu smiled, a warm smile, relieved at that understanding. "Thank you very much," she said, "for being patient, and for being true to me."

The two stood there in the small practice room, the soul light from the main hall shining through the door, not needing any more words, simply enjoying that peaceful, meaningful moment - a confession that had not yet come to an official conclusion, but had opened a new, promising door, between two hearts that had gone through so many challenges to get together.

That evening, when Anh Thu called to tell Ngoc Diep the whole story, her best friend's voice rang out with excitement over the phone. "Finally, it's time, really!" Ngoc Diep shouted excitedly. "I told you a long time ago, the eyes he looks at you have never been just the eyes of an ordinary co-star."

"I'm still a little scared, to be honest," Anh Thu admitted, her voice full of thought. "I'm afraid that if things don't go well between us, it will affect the whole show, the whole club."

"You're thinking too much, really," Ngoc Diep replied, her voice reassuring. "Looking at the way you two have supported each other over the past few months, I believe that no matter what happens, you're both mature enough to handle it maturely."

The conversation continued for a while before the two said goodbye. Putting down the phone, Anh Thu lay down on the bed, looking up at the ceiling, her heart filled with a feeling of happiness mixed with excitement that she had never experienced so completely in the past two years since her mother passed away.

Meanwhile, in another corner of the city, Gia Bach happened to see Kien and Anh Thu leaving school together that afternoon through the classroom window where he was staying late to study - the distance between the two, the way they talked and laughed naturally, much more intimately than usual, it was not difficult for him to realize that something had changed between them.

A bitter feeling rose in Gia Bach's heart, not necessarily because of emotional jealousy, but because of a clearer awareness than ever of the gap between his position and the central position that the other two held - not only on stage, but now, it seemed, also in the hearts of the entire club, who were increasingly paying more attention and support to that promising lead couple.

The regional festival is less than three weeks away. Gia Bach knows that the time for him to change his destiny is running out day by day, and in the depths of his torn mind, a plan much bolder, more dangerous than he ever dared to think of, is gradually starting to take shape, waiting for the right opportunity to be implemented.

He recalled that, while casually surfing social networks a few weeks ago, he came across an old post in an entertainment group, recalling the video "stage prodigy who forgot his words" that had caused a stir many years ago - although no one in that post mentioned his real name or recognized that it was Kien, but with what he had observed over the past several months about Kien's unusual reaction to the spotlight, Gia Bach had gradually been able to piece together the puzzle, and now here, he was almost certain of the real identity behind that video.

He saved the post link in a separate note on his phone, telling himself that this was just a precaution, a backup card that he hoped he would never have to use. But deep inside, he knows clearly that the line between "just in case" and "ready to use" is becoming more and more fragile with each day the pressure piles up, when the opportunity to win a scholarship seems to be slipping out of his hands faster than ever.

He turned off his phone, looked out the dark classroom window, wondering if the person he was about to become, if he really reached that last step, would still be the person his sister, his family, and himself of those days before, could be proud of. But that question, although painful, was still not strong enough to completely extinguish the fire of despair that was smoldering in his heart, a fire that he knew, with just one more small push, could flare up violently, burning away all remaining rationality in him.