Here’s a 300-word piece based on your premise:
I bolted upright in bed, my heart pounding. Sunlight streamed through my curtains, too bright, too high in the sky. I grabbed my phone—8:47 AM.
My college entrance exam had started at 8:30.
Panic crashed over me. I had set my alarm for 6:00 AM. Had it failed? No—someone had turned it off. My hands trembled as I checked my notifications. My alarm had rung at 6:00, but it had been manually silenced two minutes later.
I scrambled out of bed, my mind racing. Who?
My little brother? No—he had slept over at a friend’s house. My mom? No—she had reminded me about the exam ten times yesterday. That left only one person.
Dad.
I stormed into the living room, still in my pajamas. My father sat at the table, sipping coffee, utterly calm.
“You turned off my alarm,” I accused.
He barely glanced at me. “You needed rest.”
I gaped at him. “Rest? I needed to take my exam!”
“You study too much,” he said. “If you’re smart enough, you don’t need an exam to prove it.”
I wanted to scream. Instead, I grabbed my phone and dialed the testing center. “Please,” I begged. “Can I still come?”
A pause. Then, a sigh. “You have until 9:00 to get here.”
I checked the time. 8:49.
I ran. Barefoot. Pajamas. No breakfast. Just desperation.
I don’t remember the sprint, only bursting into the exam hall at 8:59, gasping for breath.
I took the test. My hand shook the whole time.
Weeks later, my results arrived.
I passed.
But I never forgave my father.
Would you like any edits or additions?
