I had always dreamed of becoming a doctor, driven by the loss of my mother to cancer. Years of hard work and dedication had led up to this moment – my medical college entrance exam.
But disaster struck when I woke up late, with just five minutes to spare. My alarms, set for 6:00, 6:15, and 6:30, had been mysteriously switched off. Panic set in as I rushed to get ready.
My stepmother, Linda, seemed eerily calm, almost smug. Her words cut deep: “Maybe this indicates you’re not fit for medical school.” But I knew I had set those alarms.
Just as I was about to give up, my 8-year-old brother, Jason, intervened. “I know who did it,” he said, his voice trembling. “I saw Linda turn off your alarms last night.”
Linda’s expression hardened, but Jason stood firm. He had called the police, and soon, two officers arrived, responding to his assistance call.
With Jason’s courage and the officers’ kindness, I made it to the exam center just in time. The proctor, moved by my story, allowed me to take the test.
Hours later, I emerged from the exam room, exhausted but relieved. Jason awaited me on the front steps, his eyes shining with hope. “Did you do it?” he asked.
I nodded, smiling. “I did, thanks to you.”
Our father, enraged by Linda’s actions, ordered her to leave our home. As we watched her depart, Jason and I felt a mix of relief and justice.
In that chaotic morning, my brother’s quick thinking and bravery had saved my dreams. His selfless act reminded me that sometimes, the greatest heroes are the ones closest to us.
