A Race Against Time
On the morning of my medical college entrance exam, I woke up late to find that all my alarms were mysteriously turned off. As I hurried to get ready, my 8-year-old brother stepped in with a plan that would save the day.
Since I was young, I dreamed of becoming a doctor. After my mom died of cancer, that dream became even stronger. I wanted to help people like her, learn more about the disease that took her away, and support others in their battles against it.
Source: Pexels
I worked for this moment for years, going through late nights, countless books, and more exams than I could count. Today, all that hard work was about to pay off: it was finally the day of my medical entrance exam.
Last night, I did everything to make sure I wouldn’t oversleep. I set three alarms on my phone—6:00 a.m., 6:15 a.m., and 6:30 a.m. I even left my curtains open so that the sunlight would wake me up. As I lay in bed, I thought of my mom and promised myself that I’d make her proud.
When I opened my eyes the next morning, something felt wrong. It was dark, too dark. I reached for my phone, and my heart sank—9:55 a.m. My exam started at 10:00.
“No, no, no! This can’t be happening!” I threw off my blankets and grabbed my phone. All three alarms were turned off.
“I know I set these!” I muttered, my hands shaking as I got dressed quickly. My mind raced with questions. How did this happen?
I bolted down the stairs, half-dressed, with my hair everywhere. “Linda!” I called out, desperately looking for my stepmom. “Linda, please! I need a ride to the college. My exam is in five minutes!”
She was in the kitchen, sipping her coffee calmly, watching me with a look I couldn’t quite understand. She raised an eyebrow, giving me a look that was as cold as her coffee cup was hot.
“You’re late already,” she said flatly. “Maybe next time, you should learn to set an alarm properly.”
“I did set them!” I almost shouted, feeling frustrated and panicked. “I triple-checked. They were on, all three of them.”
She shrugged, a slight smirk on her lips. “Clearly, you didn’t. Maybe this is a sign that you’re not cut out for med school. If you can’t even wake up on time, how will you handle something serious, like a patient?”
I stood there, feeling my face grow hot, my mind swirling with disbelief and desperation. This couldn’t be real. My stepmom wouldn’t do this to me, would she?
I turned toward the door, knowing I’d never make it on foot but feeling I had to try. Just as I reached for the handle, I heard a small voice behind me.
“I know who did it,” my little brother Jason said, his voice shaky but his eyes steady.
I turned, confused. “Jason, what are you talking about?”
He took a small step forward, looking at Linda cautiously. “I saw her. Last night. She turned off your alarms, Emily.”
Linda shot him a sharp look. “Jason, stop making up stories,” she hissed.
Jason gulped but didn’t back down. “I’m not lying! I saw you go into her room, pick up her phone, and turn off the alarms. You said she didn’t need to be at that stupid exam anyway.”
My mind was spinning. I looked at Linda, searching her face for denial, for any sign she’d say it was a misunderstanding. But she just sighed, crossing her arms.
“You know what, Emily?” she said coolly, her voice hardening. “Fine. Yes, I did it. You’re not fit to be a doctor. It’s a waste of time and money that your dad could spend on something worthwhile.”
“Like… your beauty salon?” The words slipped out before I could stop them.
Just as I was about to push past her and leave, I heard sirens in the distance, getting louder as they approached our house.
Jason, now holding my hand, gave me a small, hopeful smile. “Don’t worry, Em. I called for help.”
Linda’s face hardened as she looked at Jason, who stood by my side. “You seriously did this?” she asked, barely able to speak.
Jason’s small voice cut through the tension. “You are the bad guy, Linda,” he said, his eyes fierce despite his small size. “Emily is going to be a doctor one day. Mom would be proud of her.”
Linda’s face twisted, and before she could say anything, the wailing sirens outside grew louder. I watched her look toward the window, her eyes widening with surprise.
The front door opened, and two police officers stepped inside. One of them, a tall man, spoke with calm authority. “Is everything alright here?”
Jason didn’t hesitate. “I called you,” he said, standing tall despite his age. “My sister needs to get to her entrance exam. Linda turned off her alarms so she’d miss it.”
The officer’s eyes moved to Linda, who immediately pretended to be innocent. “This is absurd!” she scoffed, folding her arms. “They’re just children, making things up because they’re late.”
But the other officer, a woman with kind eyes, knelt down to Jason’s level. “You called us to help your sister?” she asked gently.
Jason nodded vigorously. “Yes. Emily studied so hard, and she was ready. Linda turned off her alarms so she’d miss her test.”
The officers exchanged glances, then turned to me. “Is that true?” the male officer asked.
“Yes,” I whispered, feeling the weight of everything settle over me. “I have to get to my college right now, or I’ll lose my chance to take the exam.”
The officers nodded and exchanged another glance. “Alright, young lady,” the female officer said, standing up, “We’re going to get you there.”
Linda’s face twisted with disbelief. “Wait, you’re actually going to escort her?” she stammered, frustration evident in her voice. “This is ridiculous!”
“It’s our job to help people,” the officer replied, coolly dismissing Linda. “Now, if you’ll excuse us.”
I turned to Jason, who was smiling proudly, a little hero in his own right. “Thank you, Jason,” I whispered, hugging him tight. “You saved me.”
As I left with the officers, Linda’s face showed a mix of fury and disbelief. The officers helped me into their squad car, and we sped down the road with the sirens blaring, weaving through traffic as we approached the college. My heart pounded in my chest, but this time, it was with determination.
At the exam center, we arrived just minutes before the doors were set to close. The officers stepped out with me, guiding me toward the entrance.
One of the proctors noticed us and approached, looking confused. “Ma’am, the exam is about to begin,” he said, glancing at the officers.
The policewoman explained quickly. “This young lady had her alarms sabotaged at home, but she’s here now. I understand if you can’t make exceptions, but if there’s any way she can sit for the exam…”
The proctor’s stern face softened as he listened. He looked me in the eyes, as if weighing my sincerity, then gave a brief nod. “Alright. Go on in.”
“Thank you,” I managed, barely believing I’d made it.
I found my seat, still shaken but refusing to let the morning’s events get the best of me. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes for a moment, and thought of my mom. This was my moment, and I wasn’t going to let anyone take it from me. I picked up my pencil and began the test.
Hours later, I walked out of the exam room, exhausted but relieved. The officers who had helped me were gone, but I felt their kindness with every step as I headed home. Jason was waiting on the front steps, and he jumped up as soon as he saw me.
“Did you do it?” he asked eagerly, his eyes bright with hope.
I nodded, a smile breaking out despite my exhaustion. “I did, thanks to you.”
He threw his arms around me. “I knew you could.”
Inside, my dad was waiting. His face was pale, and his mouth was set in a grim line. He had been waiting for me to come home to hear everything. Jason took the lead, explaining every detail of what had happened while I was gone.
My dad’s face grew red with anger, his eyes narrowing as he looked over at Linda, who was trying to look calm and unaffected. “Is this true?” he demanded, his voice trembling with restrained fury.
Linda’s eyes darted between us. “I… I was just trying to keep her from a mistake. I didn’t mean for it to go so far,” she mumbled, finally looking cornered.
“You sabotaged her dreams because of your own selfishness,” my dad said coldly. “You’re not staying here another night.”
Linda’s face turned pale as she realized he was serious. She tried to protest, but he shook his head firmly. “Pack your things, Linda. This family deserves better than this.”
Jason and I stood by the door, watching as she finally left. There was no satisfaction in it, just a sense of justice and relief.
Woman Told Her Daughter Her Father Had Died – Years Later, the Girl Discovered a Heartbreaking Truth
Woman Told Her Daughter Her Father Had Died – Years Later, the Girl Discovered a Heartbreaking Truth
When Cassie returns from a getaway with her husband and son, she walks into her home to see a cryptic message from her mother — telling her to watch a video. As Cassie presses play, her entire life changes. In the end, she’s left wondering which of her parents are worthy of forgiveness.
In my eyes, my father could do no wrong. He was everything I needed him to be and more. He was a businessman who was always traveling, but he ensured that he made enough time for me.
“You’re my little girl, Cassie,” he would say, bopping my nose with his index finger. “You’re the most special.”
My parents always went out of their way for me — ensuring that despite their busy schedules, we would have family dinner almost every night.
It was the one thing that kept me grounded while both of my friends from school were in the middle of their parents’ messy divorces.
“I think it’s trendy now,” I told my mother as she cut slices of banana bread for me after school one day.
“Cas, you cannot think that divorce is trendy,” she laughed. “It’s devastating and traumatic, and very few families actually keep things civil.”
“I’m just saying that it’s trendy because a lot of kids live between two homes,” I explained to her. “It’s one of those things we were talking about in class today.”
I was fourteen, and the world seemed more dramatic than it should have been.
But what I didn’t know was that my words seemed to be an incantation that settled over our home.
A few weeks after that conversation, my father went away on a business trip. A few hours after he had been gone, there was news of his passing.
“How?” I asked. “How did he die?”
“I don’t know what to tell you, Cassie,” she replied. “I’m just saying what the paramedics told me.”
“So what will we do next?” I asked.
“What do you mean?” she asked, puzzled by the question.
“For the funeral?” I asked. “Aren’t we going to have one?”
“I don’t think so,” my mother replied. “Dad wanted to be cremated and have his ashes spread at the beach. Let’s do that instead.”
I couldn’t fathom why my mother would want to do that — but at the end of the day, she knew my father best. And the longer I thought about it, the more beautiful and sentimental a private ceremony at the beach felt.
“Don’t be difficult, Cassie,” my mother said when she saw me thinking about my next move.
“I’m not,” I said. “Really. I was just thinking about it. It’s a great idea, Mom.”
I could have fought her for a send-off that I thought would have been more appropriate. But what use would it have been? At the end of the day, we had both lost him.
The months following the beach ceremony felt weighted, and I knew that I was becoming deeply depressed — my father had been our world. And his absence was felt more than anything.
But, with time, I learned to live with it.
Last week, I decided to book a cabin in the woods for a little family vacation. My son was adamant that camping was the new best thing, and I knew that despite the wonders of nature, I wasn’t going to camp in a tent without a bathroom in sight.
Instead, I thought that a cabin would be the best option — my husband, Derek, could camp outside with Drew, our son, if he insisted on it.
We had a dog, therefore, I asked my mother to house-sit for the week so that we could be at peace, knowing that Romeo was taken care of.
A week away was more than enough to restore my mind — and eventually, when we went back home, I was surprised to see that my mother wasn’t there. In fact, it looked like she had never been there.
But there, on the coffee table, was a note beneath the TV remote.
Watch this, Cassie. I’m sorry. — Mom
I didn’t know what was in store for me, but while Derek got Drew into the bath, I put the TV on and began to watch whatever my mother had planned.
The TV flickered to life, and there he was, my father, his voice a long-lost melody, his image aged but still, unmistakably him.
Tears streamed down my face as the realization that he was still alive enveloped me in a mix of joy and disbelief.
The video message was nothing short of unpredictable.
My dear Cassie, I’m still here, alive. I’m so sorry for the pain that you must have felt from my loss. But it was needed. I needed to be removed from your life because of the sordid truth of my past. Your mother knows everything, please ask her for the truth.
My health is on a steady decline, and I would love to see you and explain it all.
Love you, Dad.
Without telling Derek or Drew anything, I grabbed the car keys and ran out. I needed my mother to explain.
“So, I bet you’ve got questions for me,” she said, opening the door.
“Explain it all,” I said.
“Cassie, it’s heavy. You look tired from your trip; are you sure you want to do this now?” she asked.
I nodded. It was now or never. I needed to know why my father faked his own death to get out of our lives.
My mother made us some tea and took out some shortbread.
“Darling,” she said. “I’ll understand if you don’t forgive me, but there’s so much about that time that I need to tell you.”
I sipped my tea, trying to figure out what my mother was about to tell me.
“I remember that you were telling me about your friend’s parents getting divorced. Do you remember that?” she asked.
I nodded. Of course, I did. It was the strangest thing, but it was so common when I was in school.
“Well, your father and I were not legally married. So when I told him about our conversation regarding divorce, he was actually relieved. Without being married, there would be no divorce.”
“What’s the big deal?” I asked.
“Then I found out that the real reason that we didn’t get married was because your father was already married to another woman.”
“What?” I exclaimed, almost dropping my cup. “To who?”
“To a woman in the town where he always had his business trips.”
“You didn’t know?” I asked, unable to believe her words.
“Of course not!” she exclaimed. “But when I pressed him about it, he decided to choose that family over us. So, I told him that the story was going to be his death.”
We were both silent for a moment.
Turns out that my mother told him that she would never tell me the truth, not when he was my favorite person. She couldn’t burst my bubble in that way. And she refused to let him see me one more time.
“It was better for you to think that it was an accident,” my mother said. “It just made more sense.”
Now, I understood why we didn’t have a funeral for him.
“What did we throw into the sea, then?” I asked.
“Dust,” she replied with a straight face.
My mother had spoken to him twice over the years. The second time being a day ago.
During their meeting, my father confessed his imminent death due to illness and requested that she give me the recording. My mother, torn by guilt and love, chose to write me the note and have the recording all set for me to watch.
“I would have taken the secret to my grave,” she said. “But knowing that he was ill and wanted to see you just struck something in me.”
Compelled by a need to confront the reality of my father’s existence, I traveled to the state where he lived with his other family.
I spent a few weeks with my father — going in and out of hospitals, watching him take an array of different medication, and growing weaker by the day.
Sitting at his bedside, I listened to his stories, the regrets, the moments of joy, and the love he had for all his children — myself included.
When things started to go downhill, I asked Derek to fly over with Drew. It was going to be a fleeting moment, but at least I’d know that my son had met my father.
A few days later, my father died.
Even now, I don’t know if I’ve forgiven him for the lie of having a double life. I just know that when it came to it in the end — I wanted to spend time with him. I had shoved my feelings aside, hoping for memories that I could figure out later.
But now that the dust has settled, I’m trying to figure out if I should forgive my mother for lying.
What would you do?
Here’s another story for you | After Celine’s father dies, she is left with having to navigate the weight of her grief. Everywhere she turns, there are pieces of her father. On her many trips to the cemetery, she finds that there are always fresh flowers left.\
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
Leave a Reply