"A Copy of Apology" (Sorry Mummy-Papa

"A Copy of Apology" (Sorry Mummy-Papa)
(An emotional letter from a child to their parents)
Mummy-Papa,
Today the school result came out.
I scored only 40 in Maths and 35 in Science.
Looking at the marks, your faces fell; Mummy’s eyes filled with tears, and Papa went completely silent.
I got very scared, truly terrified.
All the way back, I kept thinking... should I go home or not?
How will I face you now?
Sorry Mummy... I couldn't remember Newton’s laws,
but I remember so well how you caress my forehead when I have a fever at night.
I forgot the mathematical formulas in the exam...
but I haven't forgotten that you understand every pain of my heart without any formula.
Sorry Papa... I couldn't become Pythagoras,
but I know for sure that whenever I fell in life... you were the one who picked me up, without any theorem.
Because of these low marks of mine, your head might have bowed down in society,
but Papa... if I am not even here, who will hold your head up with pride tomorrow?
Mummy-Papa... can I ask you something? I couldn't become the class "topper",
but I am "your" child, right?
So just because of a few low marks, will I become a stranger to you?
I promise... I will work harder next time, I will try again.
But with folded hands, I have just one small plea to make:
Before looking at the numbers on the report card... please look at me just once.
Before scolding me for low marks... please hug me just once.
Because if you leave my side... then whose trust will I move forward with? With whose support will I pass?
In the end, just this: Even Einstein was an ordinary student in his school days,
and Kalpana Chawla also went through failures in her life.
It might be that I can never become 'Kalpana' or 'Einstein'... but I can remain your loving and 'alive' child, right? That’s all I wanted to say.
Your fearful and trembling, but endlessly loving,
Child

The Burden of Expectations
With trembling hands, I reached for the door handle. Inside my school bag, the report card felt less like paper and more like a heavy stone crushing my chest. Every breath I took felt tight, caught in my throat.
The door clicked open, and Mummy was standing there. Her eyes were red and swollen, a clear sign she had been crying for a long time. Behind her in the hall, Papa sat quietly on the edge of the sofa, his elbows resting on his knees, holding his head in his hands. The entire house was wrapped in a suffocating silence.
I couldn't look up. Keeping my eyes fixed on the floor, I choked out the only words I could gather, "Sorry Mummy... Sorry Papa... I couldn't live up to your expectations this time."
At that moment, my fear wasn't about the red marks next to Math or Science. I wasn't afraid of the formulas I forgot or the textbook laws I couldn't write down. A child is never truly broken by a subject or an exam. What breaks them from inside is the crushing weight of disappointment in their parents' eyes—the quiet, terrifying thought that a few low marks might make them a stranger to the people they love most.
We don't fear the report card; we fear losing the warmth of our own home.
A tear slipped down my cheek, and I instinctively flinched as Papa suddenly stood up. I shrank back, bracing myself for the raised voice, the scolding, or the cold silence I felt I deserved.
But Papa didn't scream.
He took two quiet steps forward, gently pulled the report card from my trembling hands, and let it drop to the floor without even looking at the numbers. Before I could process what was happening, he pulled me tightly against his chest, wrapping his arms around me like he used to when I was little.
His voice trembled right next to my ear, "Forgive us, my child... No report card, no numbers, and no expectations will ever be bigger than your smile, your innocence, and your life."
Mummy rushed over too, her tears spilling over as she wrapped her arms around both of us.
That day, standing in the middle of our small hall, I realized that numbers on a piece of paper can never define the value of a human soul. Expectations are meant to guide us, not to break our spirit.