Chapter 7 — The Stage of the Unsaid

On Monday morning, Kien came to the club office before class, his face was still slightly tense but his eyes carried a clearer determination than last weekend.

"I agree to audition for the role of Duc, miss," he said, his voice still a bit shaky but determined. "But I need you to understand, I might not do well from the start."

Ms. Huong smiled, her eyes filled with pride. "I don't expect perfection right away, Kien. I just hope you give yourself a chance to try."

The news that Kien officially took on the role of Duc spread quickly within the club, causing many mixed reactions. While most members showed support and were curious to see how the new student performed, Gia Bach could not hide his disappointment, even though he tried to hide it with a calm appearance.

"He hasn't even auditioned once and was given the lead role straight away?" Gia Bach said to his close friend during recess, his voice filled with undisguised annoyance. "While I've devoted three years and still only get assigned minor supporting roles."

"Maybe Ms. Huong finds him more suitable," the friend replied, not paying much attention to Gia Bach's dissatisfaction.

"How more appropriate, when he's never even been on a real stage?" Gia Bach growled, his eyes flashing with a trace of jealousy that he tried to suppress immediately, reminding himself that unjustified anger would not help his chances of winning a scholarship.

Kien's first rehearsal in his new role took place on Tuesday afternoon, with the entire cast present. Ms. Huong decided to start with a light scene in act two - a short conversation between Duc and the girl character at a cafe, before gradually progressing to more complex climactic scenes.

When Kien stepped onto the center stage, under the softly adjusted lights at Ms. Huong's special request, his whole body stiffened and his breathing became noticeably rapid. Bich Ngoc, the actress playing the girl, stood opposite him, waiting for him to start his first line.

Kien opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He stood there, motionless, his eyes fixed on the space in front of him, memories of that fateful night of last year rushing back violently, making his whole body tremble uncontrollably.

"Kien," Ms. Huong called softly, her voice full of reassurance. "It's okay, just take your time."

But those words of encouragement seemed unable to penetrate the fog of panic that was covering Kien's mind. He took a few steps back, his hands covering his head, his breathing becoming more and more rapid. The whole hall was silent, no one knew how to react to that unexpected situation.

Anh Thu, standing from the front row, couldn't hold back anymore, stood up and quickly walked towards the stage. "Kien," she called, her voice gentle but clear enough to cut through the panic that surrounded him. "Look at me."

Kien looked up, his eyes still filled with panic but gradually focused on her familiar face. "I... I'm sorry," he said, his voice shaking. "I can not."

"It's okay," Anh Thu replied, stepping onto the stage, standing next to him, deliberately blocking part of the eyes of the people around him. "You don't have to be perfect right now. We can stop, breathe, and try again later."

She signaled Ms. Huong to pause the practice session, leading Kien backstage, a quieter place than the main stage area. The two sat down on an old wooden crate, Kien was still breathing heavily, holding his knees with both hands.

"I'm so useless," he said, his voice full of self-blame. "I promised to try, but I failed miserably the first time."

"You are not useless," Anh Thu replied, his voice determined. "You're just facing something very painful that I still don't understand. No one expected you to get over it in a single try."

Kien was silent for a long time, struggling internally between continuing to keep the secret or sharing it with her. Finally, he decided, his voice trembling but decisive. "When I was fourteen years old, I played the lead role in a children's musical that was broadcast live. In the middle of the most important climax scene, I suddenly forgot all my lines. I stood there, in the middle of the stage, in front of thousands of spectators and cameras, unable to utter a single word for nearly a minute. That video later spread everywhere, people mocked me mercilessly. From then on, I never dared to stand in front of the spotlight again."

After listening, Anh Thu was silent for a long time, clearly feeling the weight of the pain that Kien had silently carried for the past four years. "Thank you so much, for trusting me to tell me this," she said softly, placing her hand on his shoulder in a gentle, comforting manner. "That must have been very difficult for you."

"I don't know if I can get through it," Kien confessed, his voice filled with helplessness.

"You don't have to go through it alone," Anh Thu replied, his eyes filled with determination. "We will find a way together, step by step, no rush. I believe you can do it, Kien."

Those words, with absolute sincerity without any pity or judgment, gave Kien a rare sense of security that he had not felt since that fateful performance night — the feeling that, this time, he did not have to face the monster from his past alone.

When the two returned to the stage, Ms. Huong had a new plan ready. “We will be pausing the entire cast for the role of Duc for the next few days,” she announced to the group. "Kien will practice separately with you and Anh Thu first, in a smaller space, with less pressure. When he is ready, we will return to practicing together."

That decision, although reasonable, still caused some members of the club to whisper. Bich Ngoc, even though she did not say it directly, could not hide her concern about the overall progress of the play. "We're less than six weeks away," she said quietly to her co-star next to her. "If Duc's role does not stabilize soon, the entire play will be affected."

From the corner of the auditorium, Gia Bach witnessed the entire incident with a complex emotion that is difficult to name. A part of him, the part full of jealousy and bitterness, felt a little gloating at Kien's stumble — perhaps, he thought, this was proof that Ms. Huong's decision was wrong. But another part of him, the part that still retains basic kindness, felt guilty at the pain clearly visible on Kien's face as he stood frozen in the middle of the stage.

"He looks really miserable," the friend sitting next to Gia Bach whispered, his eyes full of sympathy.

"Yes," Gia Bach replied, his voice reluctant to admit, even though his heart was still torn between compassion and fear about the scholarship opportunity that was gradually becoming more obscure due to the club's continuous upheavals.

That evening, when Anh Thu returned home, she couldn't stop thinking about the story Kien had just shared. She sat down at her desk, took out the script, and looked back at each line of Duc's character from a completely new perspective - not simply a fictional character, but now, carrying within her the very real broken fragments of the person who would portray that role.

She opened a blank page and began to write a few small directorial notes specifically for the role of Duc - suggestions on how to approach the character in a more intimate way, with less performance pressure, focusing on emotional honesty instead of perfect technique. She told herself that if she couldn't change the fear that was ingrained in Kien's heart overnight, she could at least adjust her approach to the play to create a safer space for him to gradually overcome it.

Before turning off the light to go to bed, she sent Kien a short message: "Tomorrow, Ms. Huong and I will practice with you separately, just the three of us. No need to rush, let's take it slow." She looked at the phone screen for a long time after sending it, wondering what the upcoming private training sessions would bring for both of them, but in her heart, she clearly felt a new determination gradually forming - determined not to let him alone face the fear that had haunted him for four long years, even though the road ahead would certainly have many challenges waiting for both of them, challenges that she believed could only be overcome when the two of them persevered step by step together. small, not impatient.