The rehearsal room buzzed with chatter and laughter. Out of nowhere, a classmate shoved a phone into Vy's hands, grinning wide.
"Hey, Vy, look! Pictures from lunch with the basketball team!"
Vy glanced at the screen. Nothing special—just the group sitting around, eating and joking. Yet her eyes snagged on one detail: Uy Phong and An Thu, sitting close, shoulders nearly brushing. That tiny gap between them was enough to prickle under her skin.
Her lips curled into a thin smirk as she tossed back her words, clipped and sharp:
"What's the big deal? Just a bunch of ordinary kids having lunch. Not like they're celebrities who need to make headlines everywhere they go."
The air sank heavy.
Uy Phong's scrolling thumb froze. Slowly, he lifted his gaze, eyes sharp as blades locking onto Vy's. She didn't flinch. Chin lifted, her stare was almost daring: Yes, I said it. So what?
He narrowed his eyes, lips twisting into a contemptuous smile.
"Psycho."
"You—!" Vy's voice cracked as her hands balled into fists, ready to claw at him. Only An Phong and a few others rushed in to hold her back.
"Hey, hey, what are you two doing? It's nothing worth fighting over!" someone shouted nervously.
But Uy Phong was already pushing to his feet. Arms crossed, his cold stare pinned Vy in place.
"What? Did I do something that bothered you so much you had to spit sarcasm at me? Go on. Say it."
Vy's throat tightened. She couldn't exactly blurt out: I'm mad because I thought you liked me, then you went smiling with someone else. That would sound absurd. Humiliating.
The longer Uy Phong looked at her, the more ridiculous the whole scene felt. In his eyes, Vy was just staging a drama of her own making. A bitter smile tugged at his lips.
The room teetered on silence—until An Phong's voice cut through, flat but burning with fury.
"You're a liar."
Heads whipped around. Mouths fell open. Even Uy Phong stilled for half a beat before his face iced over.
"Me? What exactly have I lied about?"
An Phong's jaw tightened. Then, with sudden force, he blurted:
"You're two-timing. I saw it with my own eyes."
The air shattered.
Gasps and half-suppressed shrieks rippled through the crowd. But then, in an awkward hush, realization struck: Wait. Did An Phong just say… Uy Phong is two-timing… with me??
A stunned silence fell, broken only by the sound of hearts pounding and cheeks flushing crimson at the absurd, almost comedic implication.
Uy Phong stood motionless for a few seconds. Then he laughed. Low, resonant, each note laced with mockery.
"Is that it? You jealous?"
The entire room screamed WHAT?! internally, but no one dared say it aloud. All eyes turned to An Phong, waiting.
An Phong froze under the weight of the question. His gaze wavered for a heartbeat, then steadied. He drew a sharp breath and answered, voice measured but each word cutting like glass.
"I'm not jealous. But what you're doing—it's pathetic. I never thought you'd be like this. I'm… disappointed."
"…What?" Uy Phong repeated, his tone dropping low.
For a moment, his entire body stiffened. The mocking smile drained from his face, leaving it pale, stone-cold. His eyes darkened, voice hollow with suppressed fury.
Then he moved. A sudden, heavy stride straight toward An Phong. The pressure rolling off him made the crowd scatter—some lunging in to block him, others stumbling back in fear.
"Whoa, calm down!" voices cried.
But the air was already crackling, seconds away from exploding.
The rehearsal room plunged into chaos. Chairs clattered, shouts rose in panic. Then came the pounding on the door, a neighbor's furious voice cutting through the din:
"What the hell are you kids doing in there? Want me to get you kicked out?!"
No choice. They had to pack up, herded out by the building manager's glare.
Everyone dispersed, shadows of tension still clinging to their backs.
At the gate, Vy and An Phong walked side by side, silence weighing heavy between them. Just as they thought they could finally breathe, a low voice struck like ice behind them.
"Hey."
Uy Phong.
Backpack slung over one shoulder, one hand shoved in his pocket, his stride looked lazy, but his eyes were dark storms. His voice came out low, deliberate, each syllable pressed like a warning.
"Today isn't over. You two owe me an explanation. Otherwise… don't blame me for being ruthless."
He didn't wait for a reply. Just walked off into the night, his tall frame swallowed by the darkness, leaving the two frozen in place, their thoughts a tangled mess. The silence that followed was thick, suffocating, almost alive.