Chapter 25 — Unfinished Music

At 7:00 a.m. Sunday morning, in front of the gate of Nguyễn Trãi school, still covered with the thin mist of a late autumn morning, twelve members of the Choir Club and Ms. Hạnh gathered, standing in small groups around the school bus rented to take the team to the City Youth Cultural House. Everyone wore neat navy blue performance uniforms. Although their faces were still sleepy, their eyes shone with a nervousness mixed with excitement that was hard to hide.

Gia Bảo arrived earlier than planned and leaned against the school gate, tightening the strap of his guitar bag on his back—the bag holding his grandfather's guitar, which he had decided to bring even though he did not need it for the competition, simply because he wanted it by his side on this important day. He looked around for a familiar figure, and when he saw Tường Vy coming from the other end of the street, his heart beat faster, not because of worry, but because of a new warm feeling that was still intact from the night before.

"Good morning," Tường Vy said, smiling as she approached, and in that moment, without anyone telling the other, they both reached out, their fingers intertwining naturally as if they had done it hundreds of times before.

"Good morning," Gia Bảo replied, clearly feeling the warmth from her hand spreading throughout his body, dispelling some of the morning cold that still lingered on his skin.

Ngọc Diễm, standing nearby with Anh Kiệt, was the first person to notice that small but obvious change. She gently nudged Anh Kiệt with her elbow, tilted her chin towards their clasped hands, the two exchanged a delicate look but said nothing, just smiled brightly, like a silent blessing.

"Let's all get in the car," Ms. Hạnh called, holding a stack of registration papers, her voice both serious and unable to hide her excitement. "We still have to arrive early to rehearse the stage before the other teams enter, don't be late."

The journey to the City Youth Cultural House took nearly forty minutes, and throughout the journey, Gia Bảo sat next to Tường Vy in the last row of the bus, hands never leaving each other's, occasionally looking out the window at the empty streets of Sunday morning, occasionally turning to look at each other, without needing to say much to feel the peace of mind spreading between the two of them.

"Do you remember the last four bars of the song?" Tường Vy asked softly, her voice slightly nervous. "The part we just finished last night."

"Remember," Gia Bảo replied, softly humming the first few notes of the new ending, soft enough for only the two of them to hear over the noise of the rolling bus. "I think that's my favorite part of the whole song."

"Me too," Tường Vy said, resting her head lightly on his shoulder for a moment. "It's not technically perfect, I know, it was written overnight. But it's real, just like what we went through."

When the bus stopped in front of the City Youth Cultural House, the group got off the bus and stood looking up at the massive building with the words "School Choir Festival — City Level Semi-Finals" spread across the large banner at the main gate. The atmosphere here is completely different from the small hall of Lê Quý Đôn High School where the preliminary round took place - more crowded, more professional, with dozens of competing teams from all high schools in the city gathering, each team wearing their own uniform, creating a sea of brilliant colors in front of the large hall.

Gia Bảo felt his heart rate begin to speed up as he stepped inside, seeing the main auditorium much larger than he had ever imagined, with rows of long red seats and an elaborately decorated stage, the stage lights had been turned on, radiating a soft warm yellow halo, not as harsh as he feared.

"Are you okay?" Tường Vy asked, realizing that his hand in hers was starting to get a bit cold.

"It's okay," Gia Bảo replied, taking a deep breath following the breathing exercises he had practiced for many months. "Just shaking a little, like always."

"It's normal to tremble a little," Tường Vy smiled and gently squeezed his hand. "Do you remember what Ms. Hạnh said? The goal is not perfection, but honesty."

The whole team was arranged in the waiting area reserved for competing units, where Gia Bảo had the opportunity to observe a few performances of other schools rehearsing on stage - there were very professional singing teams, strong voices, and neat formations, making him feel the pressure rising in his heart. But every time that feeling was about to arise, he just needed to glance at Tường Vy, or listen to Anh Kiệt make a joke to dispel the tense atmosphere, or see Minh Thư reciting the song's lyrics with bright eyes full of determination, and he would find the necessary calmness.

Near noon, when the competition order of the teams was announced one by one through the loudspeaker, the entire group of Nguyễn Trãi School Choir Club was called by name to take a waiting position behind the scenes. Gia Bảo stood between Tường Vy and Quốc Huy - who had sneaked into the backstage area thanks to knowing the organizers through a cousin - with one hand on each shoulder—one belonging to the person he loved, the other to his best friend.

"I believe you," Quốc Huy said, his voice firm. "Just remember, no matter what happens, you've come further than anyone I've ever known."

Ms. Hạnh walked over, placed her hand on each member's shoulder, her eyes lingering longer on Gia Bảo. "You can do it," she said softly, loud enough for only him to hear. "I believe in you."

"Please invite the Choir Club of Nguyễn Trãi High School!" The MC's voice rang out through the speaker system, and the whole group walked out onto the stage, forming a familiar formation that had been edited according to Ngọc Diễm's comments a few days ago - the arc was slightly closed behind, so that Gia Bảo could always feel the team's warm presence right behind him.

The first song, "Song of Student Age", sounded smoothly and steadily. The whole group had practiced to the point of memorizing every breath and every movement. Gia Bảo harmonized with everyone, clearly feeling the support from the surrounding voices, like an invisible safety net supporting him from all sides.

Then the opening notes of "Unfinished Song" rang out from Anh Kiệt's piano, the first time this song was sung in front of a real auditorium, in front of unfamiliar eyes, in front of the jury sitting attentively taking notes in the front row.

Gia Bảo stepped forward, his heart beating fast but no longer panicking like he feared. He took a deep breath, looked for Tường Vy's eyes standing at the left corner of the stage, exactly as scheduled, and began to speak.

The first verse rang out, deeper and more steadfast than he had ever imagined, and when the sound of his voice was amplified through the speaker system, spreading throughout the large auditorium, Gia Bảo felt a strange flow of emotions rising in his heart - not the familiar fear, but a fragile but genuine pride, the feeling of being himself, of letting his voice ring out without having to hide or suppress it.

The singing part went smoothly. There were a few places where his voice was a little shaky and unstable, but it never broke or went out of tune. When it came to the duet, Tường Vy stepped closer, their two voices blending together just as they had practiced countless times in that small music room. When they both sang the last four bars—the ending had been completed only the night before, and the music carried a long journey for both of them—Gia Bảo felt an indescribable completeness spread through his body, as if all the disparate pieces of his life over the past three years had finally been put back together properly.

When the song ended, a short silence covered the auditorium before applause erupted, not as intense as he imagined a resounding victory would be, but warm enough, sincere enough to make the whole team standing on stage unable to hold back their radiant smiles.

The group bowed and left the stage. As soon as they entered the backstage, everyone hugged each other, laughter mixed with sighs of relief echoed throughout the backstage.

"You did it!" Minh Thư shouted, jumped up and hugged Gia Bảo, making him so surprised that he almost fell.

"We did it," Gia Bảo corrected, smiling brightly, turning to look at Tường Vy standing next to her, her eyes also shining with undisguised happiness.

The afternoon passed in suspense waiting for the results. The whole group sat together in the audience area, watching the performances of the remaining teams, sometimes whispering comments, sometimes just sitting silently holding hands and waiting. At the end of the afternoon, when the organizers began to announce the list of teams qualified for the city-level finals, the atmosphere in the auditorium seemed to freeze for a moment.

"And one of the next names to enter the final round," the representative of the organizing committee announced, his voice echoing through the speaker system, "is the Choir Club of Nguyễn Trãi High School, with an emotional performance of the self-selected song 'Unfinished Music'!"

Cheers broke out from the team's seating area, Ngọc Diễm hugged Minh Thư, Anh Kiệt punched his hands in the air with excitement, and Gia Bảo turned to hug Tường Vy tightly, both laughing in indescribable happiness.

After the ceremony, when the group gathered to receive the certificate and official invitation to attend the city-level finals, Ms. Hạnh handed the paper into Tường Vy's hands, as the group leader.

"Be careful," Ms. Hạnh said, her voice unable to hide her pride. "This is the result of a long journey that you have gone through together."

Tường Vy took the invitation, her fingers tightened around it as if afraid that if she loosened a little, everything would disappear. A bright smile appeared on her lips as she turned to look at Gia Bảo.

"City level finals," she said softly, her voice still shaking with emotion. "We're about to stand on the biggest stage, Gia Bảo."

Gia Bảo nodded, took her hand, clearly feeling a mixture of happiness, pride, and a vague thrill about what lay ahead. But for the first time, when he thought about a bigger stage, a more crowded auditorium, he did not feel the familiar fear suffocating him anymore, but only a quiet but certain belief that no matter how difficult the road ahead was, he would not have to walk alone.

On the bus back to school in the late afternoon, the whole team quietly sang a few verses of "Unfinished Song" to each other, no longer for the purpose of practicing, but simply for the joy of singing together, of being part of something bigger than each of them. Gia Bảo sat with his head on Tường Vy's shoulder, looking at the sunset dyeing the sky orange through the bus window, and felt his heart filled with a peace that he had never dared to dream of, since that fateful afternoon in the distant ninth grade.