I still remember the first time I felt… small.
I was only in daycare when I got my very first award: *Most Honest Student.* I ran home with the paper clutched in my little hands, my heart bursting with pride. I thought my father would smile, pat my head, maybe even say he was proud of me.
But instead, he barely looked up from his desk.
"Is that all? Now I'm busy. Go study in your room."
The paper suddenly felt heavy in my hands. In that moment, I felt like *I* wasn't enough. Like no matter what I did, it would never matter. That day, I promised myself I'd work harder. That if I just became the best, maybe one day he'd finally see me.
So I studied.
Every test. Every exam. Every competition. I chased perfect scores, pushed myself until my hands ached from writing, until my eyes burned from staring at books. And I did it. I became number one — always number one.
When middle school ended, I graduated at the very top of my class. I was so proud, I wanted to burst. I thought, This is it. This time, he'll have to be proud of me.
So I went to his office with my best friend Yumi, my certificate shining in my hands.
"Father," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I graduated top of our school."
He barely glanced at it. His face was unreadable.
"That's what you should be," he said flatly. "Now you can leave."
Just like that.
All my years of effort, my sleepless nights, my sacrifices… brushed away like they meant nothing.
I tried to hold back my tears as I turned to leave. But the moment the door closed behind me, they spilled down my face. Yumi put her arms around me, whispering that it was okay, that she was proud. I wanted to believe her, but all I could feel was that hollow ache inside me.
"Come on," Yumi said softly. "Let's go to the mall. We'll celebrate together."
For a while, I let myself forget. We laughed, ate, wandered through the shops. And then, as if fate wanted to remind me of my place, I overheard a boy in a familiar school uniform.
"Grandpa, is it really okay to celebrate here? This place looks expensive, and I'm not even a top student."
His Grandpa smiled and shook his head.
"My boy, you don't have to be a top student. Your efforts are enough. I don't need you to be more than who you are. I just want you to be my kind little boy."
The boy blushed, embarrassed. "Grandpa, don't say it like that… I'm grown up now."
They laughed together, the sound warm and easy. I stood frozen, a stranger to that kind of love. The smile faded from my face, and the sadness rushed back in, heavier than before.
Yumi squeezed my hand, but I couldn't bring myself to speak.
We went home in silence, and all I could think was how desperately I wished someone — anyone — would say those words to me.
By the time I reached high school, I thought I'd finally escaped the shadows of my childhood. I had friends, real ones. We laughed, we studied, we made silly plans after class. For the first time, I felt like I was living as a normal student.
Or… at least, I thought I was.
When the announcement came that there would be a science competition, my classmates immediately nominated me.
"You're the brightest in our class, Ayla. You'll definitely win!"
Their confidence lit something inside me. I smiled proudly and said yes. I poured myself into preparation, studying harder than anyone else. This time, I told myself, I would prove it — not just to them, but to myself.
The day of the competition arrived. I gave it my all, every answer sharp, every calculation precise. I could already picture the victory in my father's eyes. But when the results were announced…
Second place.
Not first.
The champion was a clumsy-looking boy with his hair combed like a grass after a strong wind passed by and uniform buttoned up to his neck. His name was Haruki.
I stared at him, stunned. No… I'm better. I have to be better. And then, as he walked to the stage, my heart froze. I knew that face.
He was the boy I had seen years ago at the mall. The boy whose Grandpa had said the words I had always longed to hear. The memory slammed into me like a wave, pulling all the pain back to the surface. My chest tightened, and before I could stop myself, I slipped away through the crowd, hiding in the bathroom where no one could see me cry.
The next day, I couldn't bring myself to face my classmates. My head hung low, shame pressing down on me.
"You just placed second!" a voice said suddenly.
My heart sank. As I thought… they must see me as a disappointment too.
But then another voice chimed in:
"That was awesome! There were like fifty contestants and you beat forty-eight of them!"
"Yeah! We weren't wrong to pick you as our representative!"
I looked up, blinking through tears. Their smiles were real. Their voices held no judgment, only joy.
"But… I only placed second," I whispered. "I'm sorry. I couldn't be the first." A tear slipped out despite me trying to hold it back.
"Sorry?!" one boy laughed. "If I had joined, I'd be top fifty!"
Another grinned. "Nah, I'd be top forty-nine, since I'm better than you!"
The whole class erupted in laughter, not at me, but with me. For the first time, I didn't feel mocked — I felt included.
"Considering it was that nerdy guy you went up against," another added, "being second is basically the same as being first!"
"Yeah! So let's celebrate after class. Karaoke party!"
Everyone agreed, and that night we sang our hearts out. I laughed until my stomach hurt, and for once, I let myself believe that maybe being second was okay.
But the warmth didn't last.
When I got home, Father was waiting. His eyes were cold.
"Why are you late?"
I hesitated. "We… we went to celebrate at karaoke."
"Celebrate what?"
"I… I placed second in the school science contest. They said we should celebrate—"
He turned away before I could finish. "Go to your room."
The weight crashed back into my chest. I obeyed silently, dragging my feet to my room.
Later, as I sat staring at the ceiling, Hannah, one of the maids, slipped inside quietly. She didn't say anything, just placed a folded piece of paper on my desk before leaving.
I opened it with trembling fingers. It was a letter in colorful ink, with messy handwriting I instantly recognized.
*Congratulations, Ayla!*
It was from Yumi — Hannah's daughter, my best friend.
My sadness didn't vanish, but the ache in my chest eased, just a little. I clutched the paper close to my heart and fell asleep with tears still in my eyes… but they weren't as heavy as before.