The next morning, the classroom buzzed with gossip before the teacher even arrived. “Hey, I saw Minh at the hospital yesterday.” “Seriously? What was he doing there?” “Who knows? Maybe he got into another fight. He’s always in trouble.” An froze as she set down her bag. The hospital? The whispers circled like a storm. She glanced at Minh. As always, he sat quietly at his desk, earbud in, staring out the window as though the noise didn’t exist. But her chest tightened. Is it true? --- During class, An scribbled notes but couldn’t focus. Finally, she leaned closer and whispered, “Minh… did you really go to the hospital yesterday?” His eyes flicked toward her, sharp and unreadable. “Were you following me?” “No!” An waved her hands quickly, panic rising in her voice. “I just… heard people talking.” Silence hung heavy between them. Minh’s jaw tightened, and for a moment An regretted asking. But then he muttered, almost reluctantly: “…Yeah. I went. But not because of what they think.” Before she could ask more, the teacher’s voice boomed across the room, ending the fragile moment. --- That afternoon, rain returned. Students hurried home, umbrellas blooming like flowers. An, stuck without one, lingered by the gate. And there was Minh again—standing alone, soaked to the shoulders, as if he didn’t care. An bit her lip, heart pounding. Don’t be afraid… just ask. “Minh,” she said softly, “do you want to walk together again?” He hesitated, his eyes searching hers. Then, with a sigh, he nodded. As they walked side by side beneath her umbrella, the silence between them was different this time—heavier, filled with unspoken words. Finally, An asked gently, “Minh… if it’s not about fighting… then why the hospital?” He stopped walking. Raindrops splashed on the pavement around them. Slowly, he answered, voice low and steady, “My mom’s been there for over a year.” --- The world seemed to still. An’s breath caught. All the rumors, the whispers—they were wrong. Behind his cold walls was pain she couldn’t imagine. Minh turned away, eyes shadowed. “People don’t need to know. They wouldn’t understand anyway.” An’s chest ached. Without thinking, she gripped the handle of the umbrella tighter and whispered, “Even if no one else understands… I’ll listen.” For the first time, Minh’s eyes softened. The rain poured on, but beneath the small umbrella, something fragile and new began to bloom.