Elsewhere, Thinh Thinh was still trapped in the dark room at the back of the courtyard. The small space was cramped and damp, the faint light slipping through the window barely enough to make out her surroundings. She pounded on the door, shouting at the top of her lungs:
"Open the door! Open the door please! Is anyone there?"
At that moment, Ni Ni was frantically running up and down the hallway. Finally, she caught the sound of pounding and Thinh Thinh's desperate calls.
Suddenly, hurried footsteps approached from the courtyard, followed by a frantic voice:
"Thinh Thinh! Are you in there?!"
Thinh Thinh startled, a glimmer of hope flashing in her reddened eyes. The door rattled violently, and with a click, Ni Ni had undone the lock. She rushed inside, shoulders shaking, and hugged her friend tightly, tears welling in her eyes.
"You finally came!"
"Thinh Thinh! Oh my gosh, why are you in here?" – Ni Ni gasped, half out of breath, half in worry.
Thinh Thinh, her face pale and panicked, urged urgently:
"Quick, Ni Ni! We have to go! We have to stop them!"
The two girls rushed out into the courtyard, but when they arrived, the wide, empty space was deserted. Everyone had scattered, no Dinh Loi, no Tinh Yen, not even Ha Vi Phong. Only flickering shadows and the whistling wind through the trees remained.
Thinh Thinh gripped Ni Ni's hand tightly, her eyes wide with confusion, a mix of worry and despair:
"I... I don't know... I don't know if Vi Phong is okay..."
Her heart sank sharply, pounding with a mix of fear and frustration. She stood frozen for a moment, staring at the empty courtyard, her gaze darting back and forth as if searching for the slightest trace. But there was nothing, everything was over.
That evening, as soon as she got home, she hurriedly dug out her phone from the drawer. Holding it close, trembling, she typed a message to Vi Phong:
"Are you okay? I was so worried. Did Dinh Loi do anything to you?"
The screen lit up, and a few seconds later, a reply appeared. But the words were cold, distant, and left her feeling hollow:
"I'm fine."
That was all. No explanation, no concern, nothing to soothe her worry, just those two detached words.
The next day, after arriving in class, Thinh Thinh walked over to Ha Vi Phong, her voice soft and tinged with hesitation:
"Vi Phong... I... I want to talk to you for a moment."
Tinh Yen standing nearby curled her lips in a sly smile, her tone teasing yet cautionary:
"Oh, Thinh Thinh, what trouble are you trying to cause Vi Phong this time?"
Thinh Thinh hesitated, clutching her books tightly, and whispered:
"I... I just want to talk..."
Tieu Linh standing beside her, eyes glittering, leaned in to warn softly:
"Dinh Loi is still watching you two. You'd better not hang around Vi Phong anymore."
Ha Vi Phong's eyes flicked toward Tinh Yen and Tieu Linh. He frowned slightly, a flicker of irritation mixed with concern rising in his chest. He took a deep breath, then spoke firmly, his voice sharp:
"Enough."
Thinh Thinh froze, both surprised and confused.
"Vi Phong..." – she murmured softly.
Not wanting to prolong the awkward situation, Ha Vi Phong gritted his teeth, his tone turning cold:
"I'm busy."
Then he turned and walked away, his steps even but brisk, leaving Thinh Thinh standing alone in the middle of the classroom.
One day, Thinh Thinh was tasked by her homeroom teacher to deliver the advanced exercise notebook to Ha Vi Phong. It was a simple responsibility of a class monitor, but she approached it with care.
She reached his desk, holding the notebook out with both hands, her voice soft yet tinged with concern:
"Vi Phong, this is the advanced exercise notebook the teacher asked me to bring you."
Ha Vi Phong took it, his expression still cold, his gaze distant:
"You don't need to do this for me next time. It's my notebook; I'll take it myself."
Thinh Thinh nodded slightly, a quiet, wistful sadness brushing through her heart.
In the days that followed, she still tried to start conversations, still sent small messages of care, but Vi Phong replied only briefly, coldly. Gradually, an invisible distance crept in, pressing between them.
She still cared for him, but he was like an unyielding block of ice distant and untouchable.
Until one rainy afternoon, a message appeared unexpectedly:
"Let's break up."
***
Amid the unusual silence, Mai Huong couldn't help but speak up.
"Ni Ni, Thinh Thinh, come sit over here."
She smiled softly, a mischievous glint in her eyes, as if trying to break the tense atmosphere.
"Come on, Thinh Thinh." – Ni Ni urged, her voice bright with excitement.
Startled, Thinh Thinh blinked and returned to the present, letting Ni Ni tug her hand and pull her into a seat.
Her eyes scanned the room, noting the familiar faces. When they landed on Ha Vi Phong, her heart skipped a beat and tightened painfully. Her shoulders hunched slightly, and she rested her hands on the edge of the table, almost instinctively trying to hide her embarrassment.
The room buzzed back to life, small clusters of people whispering to each other, others laughing and singing but one person remained still, legs crossed and leaning back in a chair, exuding an elegance that contrasted sharply with the lively energy around him.
After a moment, Mai Huong's mischievous idea struck, and she squinted playfully:
"You two should sing too!"
Thinh Thinh flushed, biting her lower lip, clutching her books tightly as if shielding herself.
"Me? I... I am not good at singing."
Hearing that, Ni Ni chimed in eagerly:
"Thinh Thinh, sing your signature song!" – She tugged at her friend insistently, trying to pull her to her feet.
"Ah... no, please, leave me alone. I don't want to torture everyone's ears." – Thinh Thinh mumbled, lowering her head, hands gripping the edge of the table, a shy, awkward smile flickering across her face.
But Ni Ni wouldn't let up, her eyes sparkling as she pleaded,
"Come on, sing with me! Please!"
Helpless against her friend's insistence, Thinh Thinh forced a small, strained smile and shuffled away, shoulders slightly hunched:
"Okay... I'm... going to the bathroom. LOL, you guys go ahead and sing."
And just like that, Thinh Thinh slipped away again. It wasn't that she couldn't sing, she simply didn't want to. Besides, right now, she wasn't in the mood to perform; she wasn't ready to face the flood of emotions swelling inside her.
© Note: Don't Let The Winter Wind Take The Moon Away - Copyright belongs to Zieny. Any copying, editing, or reuploading in any form without permission is strictly prohibited. Violators will be prosecuted according to the law.