You Won’t Believe What Made Me Oversleep on My College Entrance Exams

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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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“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.

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“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?

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

My Granddaughter Kicked Me Out of the Apartment I Gifted Her — So I Gave Her a Reality Check

My granddaughter Emily kicked me out of my apartment, claiming it was hers. Little did she know, her “perfect” fiancé, Tom, had a dark secret that would turn our lives upside down and teach us both a hard lesson about trust and family.

It’s been a tough journey since my son and his wife died in that terrible car crash six years ago. I’ve raised my granddaughter, Emily, since she was 16. Wasn’t a walk in the park, but we managed.

An elderly woman interacting with a teenage girl | Source: Pexels

An elderly woman interacting with a teenage girl | Source: Pexels

Last Tuesday, Emily burst into our apartment, beaming. “Grandma! Guess what?”

I looked up from my crossword puzzle. “What’s got you so excited?”

“I’m engaged!” She thrust her hand out, showing off a flashy ring.

I felt my stomach drop. “Engaged? To whom?”

“Tom! We’ve been dating for two months. He’s perfect!”

I set my pen down. “Two months? That’s awfully fast, don’t you think?”

Emily’s smile faded. “Why can’t you just be happy for me?”

“I’m just concerned. What about your studies?”

A grandmotherly figure reacting with concern | Source: Pexels

A grandmotherly figure reacting with concern | Source: Pexels

She waved her hand dismissively. “College isn’t for me. I’m dropping out.”

“Emily, you can’t be serious. Education is crucial.”

“For what? I’m gonna be married. Tom will take care of me.”

I frowned. “And if something happens? If he leaves?”

“He won’t,” she snapped. “Why are you being so negative?”

I sighed. “I’m just looking out for you, dear.”

“Well, don’t. Oh, and by the way, I need you to move out.”

I blinked, sure I’d misheard. “Move out? Of where?”

“This apartment. It’s mine now.”

A defiant-looking young woman | Source: Pexels

A defiant-looking young woman | Source: Pexels

“Emily, I said you’d inherit it after I pass away.”

She shrugged. “Same difference. I need it now.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Where am I supposed to go?”

“Not my problem,” she said, checking her phone.

“Emily, this is ridiculous! You can’t just kick me out!”

She barely looked up from her ever-present phone. “Watch me. I want you gone by tomorrow.”

A young woman looking at her mobile phone | Source: Pexels

A young woman looking at her mobile phone | Source: Pexels

I tried reasoning with her, but it was like talking to a brick wall. That night, I barely slept, my mind churning with worry and disbelief.

The next day, Emily literally shoved me out the door. “Time’s up, Grandma. Tom’s moving in tonight.”

Standing in the hallway with a hastily packed bag, I pleaded, ‘Emily, please. Let’s talk about this.’

She rolled her eyes and dismissed me with a curt, “There’s nothing to talk about. Bye.” Then the door slammed shut in my face.

I spent the night in the hallway, still in shock. How could my own granddaughter do this?

A sad-looking elderly woman, deep in thought | Source: Pexels

A sad-looking elderly woman, deep in thought | Source: Pexels

In the morning, I went to the store and bought a new outfit so I could make myself presentable to see a lawyer. We filed a lawsuit to reclaim my apartment, but I had something else in mind to teach Emily a lesson.

I called my sister, Beatrice, who lived in another town. “Bea? It’s Evelyn. I need a favor.”

“What’s wrong? You sound awful.”

I explained the situation, and Bea was livid. “That ungrateful little… Of course, you can stay here. Get yourself over here, and we’ll figure this out.”

After taking the bus to Bea’s and settling there, I rang up my colorful old friend Fiona. She runs a PI firm.

An elderly woman placing a mobile phone call | Source: Pexels

An elderly woman placing a mobile phone call | Source: Pexels

“Fi, I need your expertise. Can you look into Emily’s fiancé?”

“Sure thing, Ev. What’s his name?”

“Tom. That’s all I know. But I’ve figured out how to find him on social media channels — my granddaughter taught this old dog some new tricks.”

“Text me whatever you have on him and give me a few days. I’ll see what I can dig up.”

“Okay, will do, Fi, thank you,” I replied.

An elderly woman talking on a mobile phone | Source: Pexels

An elderly woman talking on a mobile phone | Source: Pexels

While Fiona investigated, I called the lawyer about my apartment and told him to hold fire on the lawsuit to reclaim it.

“It’s pretty clear-cut,” the lawyer said. “The apartment’s in your name. She has no legal right to it.”

“I just hope it doesn’t come to that. I want to talk sense into her first,” I replied.

Three days later, Fiona called back. “Ev, I’ve got bad news. This Tom character’s a real piece of work.”

A tech-savvy older woman operating a mobile phone | Source: Pexels

A tech-savvy older woman operating a mobile phone | Source: Pexels

“How so?”

“He’s conned at least four wealthy women in the past three years. Left them broke and broken-hearted.”

My blood ran cold. “Are you certain?”

“Absolutely. I’ve got all the evidence right here.”

I thanked her and hung up. Poor Emily had no idea what she was walking into.

The wedding day arrived faster than I expected. I showed up at the venue with Fiona, clutching a folder of evidence.

Emily spotted me and stormed over. “What are you doing here?”

A woman in bridal dress, looking defiant | Source: Pexels

A woman in bridal dress, looking defiant | Source: Pexels

“Trying to stop you from making a huge mistake.”

“You weren’t invited!” she hissed.

I held up the folder. “Emily, Tom’s not who you think he is. He’s after your money.”

Her face paled. “What are you talking about?”

“He’s done this before. Multiple times.”

Emily snatched the folder from my hands and started flipping through it, her hands trembling. “This… this can’t be right.”

Just then, Tom appeared, his face contorted in anger. “Baby, what’s going on?” he demanded.

A man in a suit, gesticulating angrily | Source: Pexels

A man in a suit, gesticulating angrily | Source: Pexels

Emily spun around, her eyes flashing with hurt and anger. “Is this true? Are you just using me?” she demanded, her voice quivering with emotion.

Tom’s smile faltered, his facade cracking. “Of course not. Who told you that nonsense?” he asked, a hint of desperation creeping into his tone.

“It’s all here,” Emily said, her voice shaking as she thrust a document towards him. “Proof of what you’ve done.”

Tom’s eyes darted around the room, panic setting in. Without warning, he bolted for the exit, leaving stunned silence in his wake.

A man in a suit and tie, walking hastily | Source: Pexels

A man in a suit and tie, walking hastily | Source: Pexels

Emily sank into a nearby chair, her body wracked with sobs. As guests started murmuring and filing out, I sat beside her, wrapping an arm around her trembling shoulders. “I’m so sorry, sweetie,” I whispered, feeling utterly helpless.

She looked up at me, mascara streaking down her face. “What do I do now?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“We’ll figure it out together,” I assured her, squeezing her hand gently.

A downcast bride sitting in a chair | Source: Pexels

A downcast bride sitting in a chair | Source: Pexels

***

A few days after I returned to the apartment, Emily called in a panic from work. “Grandma, I’m in deep trouble! The bank just called. Tom maxed out my cards and took out loans in my name. I don’t know what to do. I owe so much.”

I took a deep breath. “You need to face this head-on. Get another job. Sell what you can.”

“But that’ll take forever!” she wailed.

“Sometimes that’s how it goes,” I said firmly. “When you come home this evening we’ll talk this over and figure it out.”

Emily nodded slowly. “You’re right. I’ve been terrible to you. I’m so, so sorry.”

A woman sitting on a chair, holding her head in despair | Source: Pexels

A woman sitting on a chair, holding her head in despair | Source: Pexels

“I forgive you,” I said. “But it’s time to grow up.”

***

Over the next few months, Emily worked herself to the bone. She waited tables and worked retail. She also sold most of her possessions.

We settled back into our usual routine in the apartment. Emily kept working and even started taking some online classes.

“I never realized how hard it is to make money,” she said one day over dinner.

A young woman looking to her left in a kitchen | Source: Pexels

A young woman looking to her left in a kitchen | Source: Pexels

I nodded. “It’s not easy, but it’s rewarding. You’re doing great, Emily.”

She smiled. “Thanks, Grandma. For everything.”

Six months after the wedding-that-wasn’t, we sat on the balcony sharing a pot of tea.

“Grandma?” Emily said. “I never properly thanked you. For everything.”

I patted her hand. “You’re welcome, dear. I’m proud of how you’ve handled things.”

An elderly woman holding the hands of a younger companion | Source: Pexels

An elderly woman holding the hands of a younger companion | Source: Pexels

She smiled. “I couldn’t have done it without you. I was such a brat before.”

“You were,” I agreed. “But you’ve really turned things around.”

Emily nodded. “I have. And I swear, I’ll never take you for granted again.”

“I know you won’t,” I said. “You’ve learned a valuable lesson.”

“Several, actually,” Emily laughed. “Never trust a guy with a too-perfect smile, always read the fine print, and grandmas know best.”

I chuckled. “That about sums it up.”

An elderly woman smiling gently | Source: Pexels

An elderly woman smiling gently | Source: Pexels

“Seriously, though,” Emily continued, “I can’t believe how blind I was. Tom seemed so perfect.”

“That’s often how con artists operate,” I explained. “They tell you exactly what you want to hear.”

Emily sighed. “I just feel so stupid.”

“Don’t,” I said firmly. “You’re not the first to fall for someone like that, and you won’t be the last. What matters is how you handle it afterward.”

She nodded. “I guess. It’s just… I had all these dreams, you know? A big wedding, a perfect life. Now I’m working two jobs and taking night classes.”

A young woman looking thoughtfully out of a window | Source: Pexels

A young woman looking thoughtfully out of a window | Source: Pexels

“And you’re all the stronger for it,” I pointed out. “You’re building a real future now, not a fantasy.”

Emily smiled. “You’re right. It’s hard, but it feels good. Like I’m actually accomplishing something.”

“You are,” I assured her. “I’m so proud of you, Emily.”

As we watched the sun dip below the horizon, I felt a sense of peace come over me. We’d been through hell and back, but our bond was stronger than ever. Sometimes, tough love is exactly what’s needed.

A sunset over a neighborhood dominated by apartment blocks | Source: Pexels

A sunset over a neighborhood dominated by apartment blocks | Source: Pexels

Emily leaned her head on my shoulder. “I love you, Grandma.”

“I love you too, sweetie,” I replied, wrapping an arm around her.

We sat there in comfortable silence, watching the stars come out. It wasn’t the future either of us had imagined, but it was ours, and we’d face it together.

What would you have done?

If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one about a grandmother who set a marriage deadline for her granddaughter, threatening to exclude her from the will if she didn’t comply.

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.

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