Chapter 14 — Unfinished Music

For two days after the conversation with his mother, Gia Bảo lived in an uncomfortable state of limbo, as if he was standing between two cliffs without knowing which side he belonged to. At school, he still tried to act normal, still went to the music room on time, still practiced with the group, but his mind was always busy, anxiously waiting for an answer from his mother that never came.

The permission slip was still on the bookshelf at home. Ms. Thanh did not mention it again, but Gia Bảo could clearly feel the change in the family atmosphere - meals became quieter, his mother still took good care of him as always, still asked about his homework, still reminded him to wear warm clothes when the weather got cold, but there was some vague distance that had crept in between mother and son, a distance that had never existed before.

On Friday, during recess, Quốc Huy pulled Gia Bảo to a deserted corner of the schoolyard, where the two of them usually sat whenever they had something to talk about in private.

"You don't look good these days," Quốc Huy said directly, without beating around the bush as usual. "What's going on?"

Gia Bảo sighed and told the whole story of that night - the permission slip, her mother's red eyes, her words about the pain she still carried for the past three years. Quốc Huy listened attentively, did not interrupt, only nodded occasionally, his face gradually becoming more thoughtful than his usual carefree appearance.

"I don't know what to do anymore, Huy," Gia Bảo said, his voice tired. "I understand why my mother is worried, I don't blame her at all. But I also don't want to give up the club, I don't want to give up this opportunity."

"Have you thought about inviting Ms. Hạnh to talk to your mother?" Quốc Huy suggested, after a moment of thinking. "She's a teacher and the person directly in charge of the club. Maybe your mother will feel more secure if she hears from someone with expertise, not just from you."

That suggestion made Gia Bảo pause a bit, feeling that it was an idea worth considering, even though he didn't know how to talk to Ms. Hạnh.

That afternoon, after practice, Gia Bảo stayed in the music room when almost everyone had left, only Ms. Hạnh was tidying up the music rack. He stood hesitantly for a moment before speaking.

"Miss Hanh, can I talk to you for a moment?"

Ms. Hạnh looked up and immediately recognized her student's face filled with confidence. "Okay, please sit down here."

Gia Bảo recounted everything, from the permission note his mother accidentally found, to the tearful conversation that night, to the heavy silence that had enveloped his family for the past few days. Ms. Hạnh listened with a sympathetic expression, occasionally nodding, not showing any surprise, as if this was not the first time she had encountered a similar situation in her many years as a club advisor.

"I understand your mother's worries," Ms. Hạnh said, after Gia Bảo finished telling her story. "As a mother, seeing your child hurt so deeply, and now seeing you about to enter a situation that could rekindle that pain, your mother's reaction of fear is completely understandable, child. It's not your mother holding you back, it's your mother trying to protect you the way she knows how."

"I know," Gia Bảo replied, his voice low. "But I don't know how to make you understand that this time will be different."

"Do you want me to call and talk to your mother?" Ms. Hạnh suggested, her voice gentle. "Sometimes, hearing from an outsider, someone who can clearly describe what you have practiced, the progress you have achieved, can help your mother feel more secure. But I think, the most important thing is that you have to talk honestly with your mother yourself, Gia Bảo. No one can do that for you."

Gia Bảo nodded, feeling somewhat relieved after venting his feelings, even though he knew clearly that the real burden was still waiting for him at home, no one could bear it for him.

"I will call your mother this weekend, if you agree," Ms. Hạnh added. "But you should also be mentally prepared that, no matter what I say, the final decision still lies with your mother, and with you."

During practice that Saturday, Gia Bảo's mind was still heavily entangled, and that was evident right during practice. When the group replayed his lead part in the folk song, Gia Bảo was half a beat late, his voice lost the first few notes, causing the whole composition to become out of tune for a moment.

"Sorry, let me sing again," he said quickly, his face red with embarrassment.

Anh Kiệt played the music again, but the second time, Gia Bảo lost his breath in the middle of the sentence, his voice became unusually weak, completely different from the confidence he had shown in practice a few days earlier. The whole group exchanged worried looked with each other, no one said anything, but that silence made Gia Bảo feel even more pressured than frank criticism.

Tường Vy was the first person to realize that something was wrong, not just a normal technical error. She signaled for the group to take a five-minute break, then pulled Gia Bảo to the corner of the room, away from the curious eyes of others.

"What's up?" she asked, sounding genuinely worried. "You're not like your usual self. Are you nervous about the competition?"

Gia Bảo hesitated for a moment, not knowing whether to tell Tường Vy everything or not. He wasn't ready to let her know about the ongoing tension between him and his mother, partly because he didn't want her to worry any more, partly because he still felt embarrassed to admit that, even after all the progress he'd made, he still couldn't resolve his relationship with the mother who loved him the most.

"It's just... something at home," he said vaguely, avoiding her eyes. "It's nothing serious, I'll be fine."

Tường Vy looked at him for a long time, not seeming to completely believe that reassurance, but she did not ask further questions, just gently placed her hand on his shoulder, a simple but warm gesture of comfort. "If you need to talk, I'm always ready to listen, okay? You don't have to take on everything yourself."

"Thank you," Gia Bảo said, feeling a warmth spread in his heart at that sincere concern, even though he still didn't have the courage to share everything that was weighing heavily on his heart.

The practice session continued after that, and with Tường Vy's gentle encouragement, Gia Bảo gradually regained focus, completing the chant more smoothly in the following reruns. But on the way home, worries about his mother continued to haunt him, and he knew he couldn't let this limbo continue forever, especially when the deadline to submit the permit application was only a few days away.

That night, Gia Bảo decided to proactively talk to his mother again, but this time he chose a different approach. Instead of trying to convince his mother with arguments like last time, he simply went to sit next to her in the living room, while she was watching the evening news program.

"Mom," he called softly, "I don't want to force you to agree right now. I just want you to know that this is really important to me, and I promise I will be careful and won't let myself get hurt like before. I have Tường Vy, Ms. Hạnh, and the whole group by my side, I'm not alone like that year."

Ms. Thanh was silent for a long time, her eyes still glued to the TV screen but it was clear that she was not watching any program at all. Finally, she sighed and turned to look at her son. Her eyes were still filled with worry but had softened somewhat compared to the previous night.

"I've been thinking a lot these past few days," she said, her voice slow. "I'm still not worried yet, Gia Bảo. Maybe I'll still be worried until I see you standing on that stage and walking down safely. But I also realize that if I keep holding you back because of my own fear, I'm probably repeating the same mistake I've been blaming myself for the past three years - not giving you the opportunity to be yourself."

She stood up, went to the bookshelf, took down the permission slip, and before Gia Bảo's nervous eyes, she took the pen and signed it, even though her hand was still shaking a bit.

"I signed it," Ms. Thanh said, handing the paper back to her son, her voice still choked. "But I promise Mom, if there's anything wrong, you have to tell me right away, okay?"

"I promise, mom," Gia Bảo replied, holding the paper with both hands, feeling a huge relief spread throughout his body, mixed with a vague sense of guilt, because he knew, even though his mother had signed, the worry in her heart had not disappeared, she just chose to put it aside out of love for him.

He hugged his mother tightly, something he had rarely done since entering his teens, and in that embrace, neither mother nor son said another word, just letting that warm silence speak for all the unfinished things between them, things that Gia Bảo knew would take a lot of time to truly be completely resolved.