Chapter 18 — The Stage of the Unsaid

A week before the regional festival, when all the club's attention was focused on the final training sessions, another incident occurred, this time not from an anonymous threat, but from Kien's own family.

Tuesday afternoon, when Kien had just finished practice, he received a call from his mother, her voice filled with panic on the phone. "Can you go home right away? There's something important we need to tell you."

When Kien arrived home, he was stunned to realize that his parents were sitting in the living room with a distant relative, who had just accidentally seen a social network post from a strange account, repeating Kien's old video along with a few malicious comments. Although it had not spread widely, it was enough to make that relative worried and notify his parents.

"Can you explain to Mom and Dad?" his father asked, his voice filled with worry and anger. "We thought this matter had been resolved."

Kien stood speechless, realizing immediately that this must be an act of retaliation by the anonymous threat after realizing that he had no intention of withdrawing from the role as originally requested. "Someone is trying to threaten me," he confessed, deciding not to hide it any longer. "They want me to withdraw from the play, otherwise they will publicize the video more widely."

His mother covered her face, her voice filled with panic. "See? This is exactly what we feared would happen. You need to back out now, before things get worse."

"I don't want to back out," Kien protested, his voice shaking but determined. "If you withdraw because you're threatened, that means you're letting fear control your life again, just like four years ago."

"This is not the time to prove your courage, Kien!" his father shouted, his voice filled with a mixture of anger and concern. "This is your future, the honor of the whole family. We cannot let you be so reckless."

The argument lasted and tensions escalated to the point where Kien, for the first time in his life, felt completely trapped between his personal desires and his family responsibilities. Finally, exhausted by the pressure from both sides, he let out a sentence that, as soon as it was uttered, he felt its heaviness.

"Okay," he said, his voice filled with exhaustion and desperation. "I'll think about backing out."

That sentence, even though it was only a temporary concession to ease the tense situation, still made Kien's heart ache, feeling like he had just betrayed himself, betrayed everything he had tried to build over the past few months.

That night, Kien texted Anh Thu, his tone through each word was gloomy and different from usual: "I need to think about whether to continue the role or not. My family is under great pressure."

Reading that message, Anh Thu felt a deep worry rising in her heart. She called immediately, but Kien did not answer the phone. She tried texting a few more times, but only received silence that lasted the entire evening.

The next morning, when Kien arrived at school with a haggard face and obvious lack of sleep, Anh Thu immediately came to him during recess, unable to hide his worry. "Are you okay? I called last night but you didn't answer."

"I'm sorry," Kien replied, his voice filled with fatigue. "I just need some time alone to think."

"Have you decided yet?" Anh Thu asked, his voice trembling in fear of the answer he might receive.

Kien was silent for a long time, his eyes filled with intense inner conflict. "I don't know," he admitted finally, his voice cracking with despair. "I don't want to disappoint my family, but I also don't want to give up everything we've built together. I feel like I'm being torn in half."

Anh Thu stood there, seeing the pain clearly shown on the face of the person he loved, clearly feeling that this was the most important decisive moment in the entire journey they had gone through together - a moment that she knew, only Kien himself could find the real answer for himself, even though she was willing to stay by his side, no matter what the final decision was.

News of Kien's fluctuations quickly reached Ms. Huong's ears, when she clearly noticed his unusual lack of concentration during practice that afternoon - repeatedly forgetting his lines, lacking the emotional connection that had been his strongest point for many weeks. After the practice session, she privately called Kien into the office, her eyes full of sincere concern.

"I heard your family is pressuring you to back down," she said, her voice gentle but full of understanding. "I don't want to force you to do anything you don't really want to do. But I want you to know, the official cast list needs to be submitted to the festival organizers no later than this Friday. If you decide to withdraw, we need time to find an alternative."

The pressure of that time, although it was not Ms. Huong's intention, made Kien feel even more burdened by the decision he still could not make. “I need a little more time, ma'am,” he said, his voice tired. "I promise I'll have an answer by Friday."

Ms. Huong nodded, not putting any more pressure, just placed her hand on his shoulder encouragingly before letting him leave. “Whatever you decide,” she said, “I want you to know, I respect any choice you make, as long as it truly comes from your heart, not from fear.”

That night, Kien lay in bed, unable to sleep, his mind reeling with a series of conflicting thoughts. He thought of his mother's worried face, of his father's anger mixed with fear, of the responsibility he felt he had to shoulder as a son. But then, the image of Anh Thu, eyes filled with absolute trust for him, appeared clearly in his mind, along with the memory of the long and arduous journey he went through to be able to stand firmly on stage again.

He took the small box containing old medals from the drawer, picked it up and looked at it in the dim light of the nightlight, wondering how the passionate fourteen-year-old boy of that day, if he could see him now, would feel about the decision he was about to make - to continue fighting to regain the person he had lost, or once again, let fear decide for him.

That night passed in an endless struggle, and when dawn broke, Kien still had not found a definitive answer, only knowing that the time for him to make a final decision was running out, while both his heart and mind continued to struggle endlessly.

The next morning, Duy Anh, clearly noticing his friend's exhausted face, pulled him to a corner of the empty hallway before class. “You look like you haven't slept all night,” he said, his voice filled with worry. "Is something serious going on?"

Kien briefly recounted the situation, not hiding the tension that was weighing heavily on his shoulders. Duy Anh listened attentively, his face gradually becoming rarely serious.

"I can't decide for you," Duy Anh said after a moment of contemplation, "but I want you to remember one thing: being afraid of what other people think, that's normal. But letting that fear decide for your own dreams, that's the truly unfortunate thing."

Those simple but profound words made Kien unable to help but ponder deeply throughout that morning. At break time, when he happened to meet Anh Thu again at the library, he noticed that she was sitting alone, looking thoughtfully at the script, seemingly also struggling with her own thoughts.

"Can't you sleep too?" Kien asked, sitting down opposite her.

"I keep thinking about you," Anh Thu confessed, her voice full of sincerity. "I know, this is your own decision, and I will respect whatever choice you make. But I just want you to know, no matter which path you choose, my feelings for you will never change."

That sincere affirmation, without adding pressure but simply an unconditional commitment, gave Kien a rare sense of peace amid the storm of emotions that had been rolling in his heart for the past few days, like a solid fulcrum that helped him gain more courage to face the most important decision of his life, even though he still wasn't sure what he would choose when the deadline this Friday really approached.