Quang didn't answer right away. He looked out the window, where raindrops followed one another down the glass.
“Because I used to think that if I stayed quiet, everything would get better on its own.”
Mai heard a hint of sadness in Quang's voice.
“But it didn't get better?”
“No. Staying quiet only makes people miss each other for longer.”
The music room door swung open.
Khanh stood in the hallway, one shoulder of his shirt soaked through. He looked at Mai, then at Quang. His gaze settled on the piano and the space between them.
“Sorry. I'm late.”
Quang stood up and gave Khanh his seat.
“I already told Mai.”
Khanh froze.
“Told her what?”
“That you like her.”
Mai whipped around to face Quang.
“Quang!”
Khanh stood perfectly still. All the color had drained from his face.
Outside, the rain continued to pour.
One second.
Two seconds.
Then Khanh stepped into the room and closed the door.
“Was he telling the truth?” Mai asked, her voice so soft that the rain nearly swallowed it.
Khanh didn't look at her.
“Whatever Quang says is his business.”
“But was he telling the truth?”
“Mai…”
“Khanh, I want to hear it from you.”
He clenched his hands. Quang stood silently by the window, no longer interfering.
Khanh walked over to the piano and touched the keys as if he were searching for somewhere to rest his eyes.
“Quang was right.”
Mai heard her heart pounding.
“Right about what?”
“About liking you.”
There was no thunder, no special moment beyond the gray-white curtain of rain behind the window. There were only four words spoken in a slightly trembling voice, yet they were enough to stir everything inside Mai.
Khanh turned to look at her.
“I wasn't planning to tell you today.”
“Then when were you planning to?”
“After the exams. Or whenever I finally had the courage.”
“So you have the courage now?”
“No.” He gave her a sad smile. “But if I keep waiting until I'm brave enough, I might never say it.”
Mai looked at him for a long time.
She used to think feelings had to be perfectly clear, accompanied by beautiful words and flawless moments. But Khanh wasn't perfect right now. His shirt was wet, his hair was messy, and his hands were trembling slightly. He was still scared and awkward, but in the end, he had stood in front of her and been honest.
“Mai,” Khanh said, “you don't have to answer right away.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don't want you to feel pressured.”
“You already said it, and you're still telling me not to feel pressured?”
“Sorry.”
Mai lowered her head. She heard Quang chuckle softly by the window.
“What are you laughing at?” Khanh asked.
“Nothing.”
“Shut up.”
“That was the first time I've heard you say that without using it to protect Mai.”
Khanh blushed. Mai turned away too, pretending to look out the window.
A moment later, she asked:
“Do you still want to sing this song?”
Khanh looked at the piano.
“I don't know.”
“There you go again.”
“Because I really don't know.”
“Then try again.”
Khanh looked up.
“Try what?”
“Try singing with Quang.”
Quang looked a little surprised but said nothing.
“You gave up because you were afraid. If you keep avoiding it, you'll never know how far you can go.”
“Are you giving me advice?”
“Yeah.”
“What if I sound terrible?”
“Then I won't laugh.”
“Just you?”
“Lan won't laugh either.”
“What about Quang?”
Quang picked up the piano bench.
“I'll laugh a little.”
Khanh shot him a glare.
“But I'll still play for you.”
At last, laughter filled the room. Quang sat down and adjusted the piano's strings. Khanh stood by the window and flipped through the old notebook. Some of the musical notes had blurred, but the handwriting of the two boys from years ago remained unchanged.
Mai sat behind them, quietly watching.
When the piano began to play, Khanh sang so softly at first that his voice was barely audible. It wasn't perfect, and it trembled in places, but there was a gentleness to it that Mai couldn't look away from. Quang kept a steady rhythm, while Khanh gradually began to sing louder.
The song was about a rainy day, an umbrella left forgotten outside a classroom, and two people who had once promised never to leave each other behind.