Top 10 Stories About Times When We Accidentally Upset Our Parents, Curated by Mytour.vn

My family consists of two siblings: me, the older sister, and my younger brother, who is three years younger. My parents always favored my brother, often scolding me in his defense. This favoritism made me jealous, and we frequently fought. One particular incident still brings me regret.

Whenever we were home together, there was always some conflict between us. If we argued over something, my mother would say:

– You're the older one, you should be more patient. Don't argue with him over every little thing. He’s still young, and sometimes acts childishly. Try to understand.

Her words only fueled my frustration. I felt like my parents cared more for my brother than for me. Then one morning, something happened that made me regret my actions.

That day, I took 10,000 VND from my piggy bank, planning to treat my friends for doing well in an exam. I hid the money carefully and went to study. At lunchtime, I checked the money to buy ingredients for lunch, but it was gone. I searched my bag and couldn’t find it. Then I thought of my brother—he might have taken it. Our house is small, and since he studies upstairs while I study downstairs, I figured he was the only one who could have taken it.

I rushed upstairs and angrily shouted:

– Hùng! Did you take my money?

– No… I didn’t…

– Stop lying! You're the model student at school, but at home you behave like this. It's shameful. I thought you were well-behaved, but you're stealing from me!

I yelled at him with all my anger and jealousy. My brother started to cry silently, his eyes red. I didn't care and kept on scolding him, thinking to myself, 'It's just crocodile tears.'

– Where's the money? Give it to me!

When my dad came home that afternoon, I immediately told him everything—how my brother had taken the money and refused to give it back. My father, always stern with us, was angry and called my brother down to question him:

– Hùng! Why did you take your sister’s money?

– I didn’t, I swear – he said, looking up at my dad with innocent eyes.

– Then who else could have taken it?

I felt a bit guilty, but my jealousy was stronger. I was enjoying watching him getting scolded. Just then, my mom came home and asked what was happening.

– Mom, Hùng took my money, and Dad was so angry that he was about to punish him.

– Oh really?

Mom rushed into the house and suddenly stopped, calling out to me:

– Thanh, is this your money? A 10,000 VND bill is lying in the yard.

I froze and suddenly remembered: I must have dropped the money while studying outside. All this time, I had blamed my brother. I realized my mistake and rushed upstairs to apologize. My brother, despite everything, forgave me and hugged me.

Since that day, I’ve changed my attitude towards him. We’ve grown closer, playing together and studying separately. I also learned to appreciate my younger brother's generosity, and I've become a better older sister, treating him with more love and care.

While reading, I came across a quote by an Australian writer that stuck with me: "Nothing is perfect, only praised." It's true, isn't it? Can any of us claim to have never made a mistake? I know I can't. I still remember the mistake I made that day, which caused the person I love most – my mother – to feel deeply hurt...

It was a bright day with the sun shining, a gentle breeze kissing the cheeks of passersby. It would have been a perfect day if it weren't for the disastrous science test I had, a direct result of not studying. As I walked home, I felt light on my feet, yet heavy in heart. I was worried, especially because I had told my mom just the night before, "I studied hard, don’t worry!"

Little did she know, when she went to visit her parents and Dad was on a business trip, I didn’t study. I sat at my computer, fully confident the teacher wouldn’t check since I had aced the previous test. But to my surprise, we were given a fifteen-minute quiz. How could I face my mom now? How could I admit I hadn’t studied? I couldn’t. No way.

Then, a thought struck me: "What if I lied?" With that, I entered the house, trying to act casual. My mom rushed out from the kitchen, and I quietly said, "Hello, Mom." Almost as if she knew something was wrong, she asked, "What's going on?" I handed her my test paper, pretending to be upset and said, "I hurt my hand, couldn’t focus, so I couldn’t finish the test…" I avoided her gaze, but she sighed deeply and said, "Go change and take a shower."

Relieved, I thought, "That’s it, it’s over." But I was wrong. After that day, my mom seemed distant. She would forget to wash the dishes properly, forget to turn off the rice cooker, and even leave the lights on – things she always reminded me about. She laughed and spoke less. At night, she tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep.

I began to feel that my mom knew I had lied. I regretted my dishonesty but still didn’t have the courage to apologize. One morning, I woke up unusually early, so early that the dew on the leaves outside was still dripping, making a soft sound.

My mom was still asleep. I thought, "I’ll read the book 'Stories of Humans.'" As I opened the first page, I read a story about "mistakes". The story described how when God created humans, He gave them two invisible bags – one containing the mistakes of others, hung in front of them, and the other, their own mistakes, hung behind them. This made me realize: "Can’t I see my own mistakes?" I pondered deeply, and just as my mom woke up and got out of bed, I made a decision. I would wait for her to enter the bathroom, then write a note of apology.

When my mom returned, I had placed the note on the table and rushed to the bathroom. After brushing my teeth and washing my face, I came out to find... the note had disappeared. In its place was a towel infused with my mom’s love and a glass of orange juice. I smiled, knowing my mom had accepted my apology.

It’s been three years now, and that note still sits quietly in my mom’s drawer. I love her deeply and vow never to cause her pain again. I also learned an invaluable lesson: When you apologize to your parents, you gain something far greater than what you’ve already had – love.

"Since birth, there’s the bond of motherhood. Now, after many years, I finally have the courage to remember my time at Marie Curie School, reflecting on the peaceful days of my youth, especially the memory of a single mistake – my first and only one, but enough to leave me feeling ashamed to this day. [Chu Dương Minh]

Back then, I was just a foolish 8th grader. Every day, I would ride my bike to school and receive a bus ticket from Mr. Thành, the security guard. I was terrified of losing the ticket, thinking that if I did, I’d be written into the "black book" and face severe punishment, even expulsion. Looking back, I now laugh at my childish fears. The black book was simply the record book Mr. Thành used, but I mistakenly thought it was a log of misbehaving students.

One afternoon, after school, I searched through my pockets and emptied my bag, but I couldn’t find the ticket. I panicked, knowing this was the second time in a week I’d lost it. Then, to my surprise, I found the ticket I thought I’d lost previously. An idea crossed my mind... What if I just changed the date on this ticket and used it as a replacement?

"Stop!" Mr. Thành’s voice startled me, draining all the color from my face. "Bring your bike over here. We need to talk."

As I wheeled my bike to the side, the minutes felt like hours. Finally, when I was the last to leave, I slowly walked my bike toward him, unable to lift my head as I usually did. Ms. Thơ, the assistant principal, walked over and asked, "What’s going on?"

"This student used a fake ticket," Mr. Thành said, his voice filled with frustration as he handed the ticket to Ms. Thơ. I wanted to cry, but not because I was scared – I felt deeply ashamed. Ms. Thơ glanced at me, and I couldn’t look her in the eye, but I could feel her gaze burning through me.

"This is Phương Thu, from class 8I with Ms. Liên," Ms. Thơ said gently to Mr. Thành. "I’ll vouch for her." Then, she told me, "You need to write an explanation and give it to your homeroom teacher. Never lie again. Lying is wrong." Her soft voice was like a knife to my heart. I muttered, "Yes, ma’am."

That afternoon, I didn’t go out to play. Instead, I locked myself in my room, pulling the blanket over my head. I shut my eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come. I kept thinking, "Tomorrow, everyone will know I’m a liar. How will my parents feel? Will my classmates be embarrassed to know they’re associated with me?" I realized I needed to fix what I could before it was too late. I quickly wrote three letters: one for Ms. Thơ, one for my homeroom teacher, and one for Mr. Thành, explaining everything. I took full responsibility, not asking for forgiveness, because deep down, I knew my mistake was too great. I only asked that the incident not be brought up in front of the whole school so that my class and my friends wouldn’t be embarrassed because of me. As for me, I was ready to accept the highest punishment: expulsion.

The following days were filled with anxiety as I awaited my punishment, but it never came. It seemed that everyone had forgotten my mistake. Then, on the last day of the year, as we were saying goodbye, Ms. Thơ said, "Your class is very lively and mischievous, but I see the unity and love you all have for each other." She paused and smiled at me. Her smile held a message: "We’ve forgiven you." It was the grace of Ms. Thơ, my homeroom teacher, and Mr. Thành that prevented me from spiraling into despair. Without their kindness, I might have considered myself a lost cause, but their forgiveness saved me. It allowed me to strive to be an honest person, making sure this would remain my only mistake – one I would never repeat.

Until now, my parents had always been proud of me and pleased with everything I did. However, there was one occasion when I made them upset and worried. Thinking back to that moment, I feel embarrassed, and I promise myself never to cause them pain or disappointment again.

It was a scorching summer afternoon, with the relentless heat of central Vietnam making everyone feel exhausted. My parents and little sister were resting, and my parents had to go to work later. My task was to look after my little sister, who was only three years old and needed supervision in case she wandered off and got lost.

Although I accepted the responsibility of watching my sister, that afternoon, my classmate Ty invited me to go bird hunting. I completely forgot my responsibility and eagerly agreed to go with him. I didn’t even consider my parents' instructions. At that moment, I, a sixth grader, was more interested in playing than listening to my parents.

I rode behind Ty on his bike, heading to a nearby village where there was a large hill full of trees and birds. I was captivated by the beautiful landscape and immersed myself in the bird hunting game with Ty. We ran around the hill, chasing after birds. I missed a few shots, but I managed to catch some. Ty suggested roasting the birds with pomelo leaves for a delicious meal, and I got excited thinking about eating roasted bird with pomelo leaves that my father would cook.

Suddenly, I remembered my father and realized I had neglected my responsibility to look after my sister. I panicked and urgently told Ty that we needed to go back. We hurriedly pedaled our bikes back home. By the time we arrived, it was already 3 PM. I saw my parents sitting at the door, their faces filled with worry and anger. When they saw Ty and me, my mother scolded, "Where have you been? Didn’t you listen to us?" My father remained silent, and I dreaded those moments of silence.

Ty, sensing the tension, quickly left the birds behind and sped off home. I stood frozen for a moment, then slowly walked into the house.

My father still wore that stern expression. He was upset because I had disregarded their instructions and prioritized play. My carelessness had caused my parents to miss something important. My mother continued scolding me, and then my father finally spoke in a calm yet firm voice, "Next time, listen to what we say. If something happens, what will you do? You're growing up now; don't make us worry like this again."

Listening to my father's words, I lowered my head, and tears flowed down my face. My mother told me to stop crying, and my father added, "Don’t cry anymore. Next time, don’t make us worry like this."

Although I knew my parents were no longer angry, I felt deeply ashamed and spent the entire evening questioning myself. I promised that I would no longer be careless, that I wouldn’t trouble my parents like that again, because I loved them dearly.

There have been many moments shared between me and my parents—some joyful, some sorrowful. But the memory that stands out the most is when I caused my parents a great deal of heartache.

At that time, I was extremely fond of music concerts. One day, my favorite singer, Dong Nhi, held a music gala in Hanoi. I was determined to attend no matter what. I asked my parents for permission, but they refused. The ticket was very expensive—equivalent to what my parents earned in a whole week of work. I was deeply upset, burst into tears, and ran to my room. For the next few days, I sulked, refused to speak to them, and even stopped eating.

My actions deeply saddened my parents. Then, one evening, I noticed that my father was coming home very late, looking worn out and exhausted. Out of curiosity, I overheard a conversation between my parents. It turned out that my father, out of love for me, had been working overtime until 10 PM every day to save enough money for my concert ticket.

In that moment, I broke down in tears, feeling overwhelming regret. I realized how selfish I had been, only thinking about my own desires and not considering how hard my parents were working for me. I rushed to my father, catching him by surprise, and hugged him tightly. Between sobs, I said:

I don’t want to go to the concert anymore, please don’t work so hard, Dad. My father gently replied, "It’s not a big deal, as long as you’re happy, I don’t feel tired." Hearing those words made me feel even more guilty, and I cried harder, saying, "I really don’t want to go to the concert anymore." After hearing this a few times, my parents finally agreed. From that moment on, I promised myself I would never again act selfishly and cause my parents any more pain. I vowed to become a more respectful and loving child.

My grandparents and parents always advised me to speak the truth about what I wanted or needed, and never to lie. They often shared stories, both from fairy tales and real-life events, to show me the importance of honesty. I understood and promised to live by these principles. But one day, I found myself breaking that promise, becoming the liar I had vowed never to be. I still feel embarrassed when I think back on it. This happened about six months ago, and here’s how it went:

I loved playing video games, but since our house didn’t have a computer, I would often go to an arcade for an hour on weekends to satisfy my craving. When my friends and I sat in front of the screen, we were so captivated by the flashing lights and action that we lost track of everything around us.

One Thursday evening, as I sat doing my math homework, my mind kept wandering to a game where I had lost to Hung in a castle attack. The more I thought about it, the more frustrated I became. I believed I was a better player and should have won. I decided that I had to practice more and beat Hung to prove I was better. An idea suddenly struck me. I stood up, closed my math book, and said to my mom:

- Mom, this math problem is too hard! Can I go to Hung’s house to ask him for help?

Mom agreed, reminding me to return soon. I rushed out, feeling like a bird released from its cage. Hung lived at the end of the street, only a few hundred meters away. On the way, I passed by several arcades, all crowded with people. I quickly looked around to make sure no one I knew was there, then turned into one of the arcades.

I played the castle attack game again. Once, twice, three times... My score kept climbing until I had surpassed Hung’s. I was so engrossed and excited that I lost track of time. Suddenly, I felt a tap on my shoulder, and a voice startled me:

- Time’s up! It’s late!

The arcade owner pointed to the clock. It was already past ten! Oh no!

I quickly said:

- Please, can you charge me? I’ll pay you next time.

- It’s six thousand. You’ve played for two hours now!

I searched my pockets, but I only had four thousand. Feeling embarrassed, I begged:

- Can you let me owe you two thousand? I’ll pay you back tomorrow!

- Next time, if you have money, you can play. If not, then don’t. Understand, young man?

My face burned with shame, but I had no choice. The owner was right. Stepping out onto the street, the cool night breeze snapped me out of my daze. The excitement I had felt earlier evaporated, and anxiety took over. How was I going to explain this to my parents?

My mind raced, trying to think of a solution, but I couldn’t come up with anything. Suddenly, I heard a motorcycle stop beside me, and my father’s stern voice cut through the silence:

- Toan! Get on the bike now!

My knees went weak, and I stood frozen in place, stammering:

- Dad! Did you come to find me?

- Yes! Your mom said you went to Hung’s house to do your homework. I came to pick you up.

My father’s calm tone betrayed a hint of anger. A deep sense of fear overwhelmed me. Without thinking, I climbed onto the bike, knowing I couldn’t justify my foolish actions. On the way home, I confessed everything to my parents. My grandfather called me over, gently advising:

- Youth often has a competitive spirit, but don’t let it consume you. Playing for fun is fine, but if it distracts you from your studies, it’s not worth it.

I apologized to my family and promised I would never do such a thing again. Since then, I’ve kept my promise, focusing more on my studies. As a result, my academic performance improved. My parents were happy and allowed me to play video games for two hours every Sunday morning, but I always invited Hung—my best friend—to join me.

This experience taught me a valuable lesson: lying only leads to negative consequences.

Everyone makes mistakes, but some errors are unforgettable. I made one such mistake, one I still regret deeply, especially the way I treated my mother.

This incident happened about two years ago during the summer. At that time, my mother was a military doctor, constantly busy with both her work and family duties. One day, when she returned home from work, I rushed to greet her and then quickly ran to my study corner to continue reading my Conan comic. After a while, I heard my mother calling from downstairs:

- Trang, could you come down and sweep the floor for me?

- I’m busy right now, mom. – I replied, still focused on the comic book.

Without warning, my mother entered my room, her face showing clear signs of exhaustion:

- Why aren’t you helping me sweep the floor? Why are you still reading comics?

I reluctantly shoved the comic into my desk drawer and trudged downstairs, grabbing the broom to quickly finish the task. As I carelessly swept, I knocked things off the furniture, not bothering to pick them up. My face twisted with irritation. The once neat and beautiful living room, maintained by my mother’s care, was now a chaotic mess. My mother gently said:

- Be careful, don’t break anything now.

Frustration boiled inside me, and I threw the broom down, shouting at her:

- What do you want me to do? If you’re not happy with this, you can clean it yourself!

My mother stood frozen, shocked by my outburst. This was the first time I had spoken to her like that. She sadly replied:

- If you don’t want to help, I won’t ask you again.

Though I knew I was wrong, I still stormed upstairs, locked myself in my room, and sat at my desk. I tried to focus on my schoolwork, but the image of my mother’s sad eyes kept haunting me. I had disrespected her.

At dinner that evening, my father asked why I had been rude to my mother, but I couldn’t answer. The guilt overwhelmed me, and I burst into tears. I knew the mistake I had made with my mother was unforgivable, and I wanted to apologize but didn’t have the courage.

That night, my mother had to go to the emergency room. The doctors said she had caught a severe cold and was exhausted. Seeing her pale and weak in the hospital bed, I was consumed with regret. If only I had helped her with the housework, maybe she wouldn’t have gotten so sick. I held her frail, bony hand and, with tears streaming down my face, I whispered: "Mom, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me!".

Two years have passed, but I still remember that day clearly. Now, as a sixth-grade student, I’ve grown and learned to help my mother more with household chores. I’ve promised myself that I’ll never make the same mistake again. You see, when we treat those closest to us poorly, it leaves us with a sense of guilt and regret.

Family plays a crucial role in life. Sometimes, we make mistakes that cause our parents disappointment. Yet, we always receive love and forgiveness from our loved ones. I was born into a family where love was lacking. My parents separated when I was very young, and my mother had to bear the responsibilities of both roles. I was a mischievous child, often causing her frustration.

Every Friday afternoon, I had an extra Math class at school. But that day, I skipped it to visit Lan, who had just received a new computer from her mother. We became so engrossed in playing that we lost track of time.

On my way home, I bumped into Hùng, a classmate, who told me that our teacher had noticed we were absent and had called both of our parents. I was filled with worry and pedaled my bike as fast as I could. When I arrived home, I called out but received no answer from my mother.

Entering the kitchen, I found a meal set neatly on the table, covered carefully. After I finished cleaning up and eating, I still didn’t hear any sign of her. I quietly entered her room and found her lying in bed. I softly called, "Mom!" but there was no reply. Concerned, I rushed to her side and felt her body burning with fever. I suddenly remembered the heavy rain earlier. Perhaps she had gotten soaked when she returned home.

A wave of fear and regret hit me. I felt guilty for spending time playing while my mother worked tirelessly and was now ill, still managing to cook for me. I quickly ran to fetch a cold towel to place on her forehead, then made some instant porridge and bought medicine for her. After a while, she seemed to feel better and woke up.

I encouraged her to eat the porridge and take the medicine. She smiled at me as she ate. When everything was settled, I embraced her and burst into tears, saying, "I’m so sorry, Mom!" She hugged me back and said, "It’s alright, dear. I just hope you learn from this and don’t make the same mistake again."

Fortunately, by the next morning, Mom was feeling better and could go back to work. This experience made me realize my mother’s unconditional love and patience. I promised myself that I would work harder, be more obedient, and always remember this lesson.

As humans, we are all imperfect. Who hasn't made a mistake in their long life? The important thing is to recognize our faults, correct them, and grow from those errors. I too have made mistakes, and what hurts the most is the pain I caused to my parents, the people who love and trust me the most. Though time has passed, I still feel guilty and regretful when I think about what happened.

Due to their busy work schedules, my parents had little time to keep a close eye on me. However, I was a shy and gentle child, always obedient and eager to help with household chores. My academic performance was good enough for my parents to trust that I would focus on my studies. But all the trust and pride they had in me collapsed when I was in the seventh grade.

I vividly remember that year when a few new internet cafes opened near my school. Being naturally shy and uninterested in joining the crowd, I rarely visited them. But one day, after receiving a low grade on a math test, I felt sad and disheartened. Math had been a subject I had worked hard on, hoping for a better result. In my confusion, a few friends invited me to an internet cafe to play games and take my mind off things. After some hesitation, I decided to join them. I never imagined how addictive the games would be. The excitement of virtual battles and building huge fortunes in the game made me forget everything else. One game led to another, and soon, I was visiting the internet cafe regularly. Every day, the money my parents gave me for breakfast went to fund my gaming habit. What’s worse, I began lying to my parents. I told them I was attending extra classes or study groups to avoid doing household chores, skipping self-study time to play games instead. I became rebellious and lost focus, even skipping school to play games. At one point, I lied to my parents again, asking for money to attend a tutoring class, all to fuel my wrongdoing. My academic performance deteriorated significantly, and I began to feel like a completely different person. My parents, who were often busy and came home late, didn’t notice my change. So, I continued to skip school and play games without consequences.

This continued for over three months until my teacher called my parents to inform them about my frequent absences. That’s when everything came to light. I was unaware of the meeting and continued to play games as usual. One afternoon, after leaving the internet cafe, I returned home right on time as if nothing had happened. But when I entered, I was surprised to find both my parents sitting in the living room. I greeted them and, feigning ignorance, asked, "Why are you home so early today?" My attempt to act normal failed as I saw my father’s stern face and my mother’s sad eyes. My father asked, "Where did you just come from?"

I tried to deny it, thinking they didn’t know the truth: "I just came back from school, Dad."

At that moment, I saw my father’s disappointed look, and I could feel his anger. He spoke sternly, trying to contain his rage, and said, "We just met with your teacher."

As soon as I heard that, I felt my legs weaken, my heart raced, and my lips trembled. I knew the storm had arrived. Although I had expected this day to come sooner or later, I still couldn’t control myself. I cried uncontrollably, apologizing to my parents. The apology I offered wasn’t just out of fear; I truly felt guilty and remorseful for my actions. I was ready to face any punishment, even harsh words or physical reprimands from my parents. But things went differently than I expected. My mother burst into tears, something I had never witnessed before. I was deeply hurt, and those tears pained me more than any punishment. I felt ashamed of myself, more than ever. My father calmly explained where I had gone wrong and offered me some advice. That was the moment I woke up to the gravity of my mistakes. I felt a deep sense of love and respect for my parents. From that day on, I focused on my studies, returned to my true self, and promised to work harder, behave better, and make up for my wrongs.

Now that I am older, I understand that mistakes are not the worst thing. What’s truly scary is not recognizing and correcting them. Since then, whenever I have to make a decision or take an action, I think of my parents, the ones who lovingly taught me to acknowledge my mistakes, correct them, and gain valuable life lessons from them.

The love and care from grandparents and parents towards their children and grandchildren are boundless. They are the ones who love, forgive, protect, and support me through my toughest times. And yet, I managed to cause a situation that made my parents sad. I deeply regret it, even though the incident happened a long time ago...

I am the youngest in my family, and as expected, I was spoiled and had the thought: “I was born to be loved and served.” One day, after coming back from school, I ran into an old lady sitting in the house talking to my parents. She looked very rural, old-fashioned, wearing worn clothes and carrying a basket full of fruits. I immediately dismissed her as someone from the countryside and felt contemptuous. But I was shocked when my parents introduced her as my grandmother. I hesitated and greeted her quietly, then went upstairs without looking back.

Since my grandmother moved in, everything at home felt disrupted. It was always about “you must give this to her, don’t play music so she can sleep, you must… you must…” every day. I felt trapped, like I was imprisoned in my own house. That made me dislike her very much.

One afternoon, a friend of mine called and invited me to go out for ice cream, telling me that she had found a great place. With nothing to do at home, I immediately agreed. However, I had no money because my parents weren’t home. I could not ask that “old woman” for money. No, I refused to do that. Suddenly, I had an idea: I could take money from my parents. Surely, they wouldn’t notice. Luckily, there was a fifty thousand note on the table, so I took it and went out. I had a great time with my friends.

When I came back home, I heard my mother ask, “Have you seen the fifty thousand note on the table?” I panicked, but acted as if nothing was wrong. When she asked, I said, “I don’t know, I didn’t take it. I’ve been out with my friends since this afternoon. Maybe it was grandmother or the maid.” But my parents scolded me, “Shut up! Don’t talk nonsense!”

My grandmother came out and said, “Don’t argue, it’s me who took it.” Then, the maid spoke up: “Since this afternoon, grandma was lying down in the room due to back pain, and I was massaging her. I only saw Thi coming out of the room.” I felt a chill run down my spine. My father coldly turned to me and asked, “Thi, today we were all out and didn’t give you any money. Where did you get the money to go out?” I froze, unable to speak. Then my mother said, “That’s it. I’m so disappointed in you, Thi. You took the money but wouldn’t admit it. I’m sad that you lied, and even worse, that you were disrespectful to your grandmother…”

My legs trembled, and I knelt down, tears streaming down my face. I wasn’t crying because I was caught, but because of my mother’s words. They pierced my heart like hundreds of needles. It was too late for me to realize that I had betrayed their trust over one moment of weakness.

Then, a gentle, warm hand wrapped around me, and my grandmother’s soft voice whispered, “Don’t cry, dear. It’s good that you know your mistake.” She turned to me and said, “Thi, although I’m poor in money, I am rich in self-respect. I love you dearly.” I burst into tears, truly. It was as if I had just found the sunlight after being lost in the forest. Oh, how kind and compassionate my grandmother was! I love her so much! I hugged her and cried, “Grandma, I’m so sorry.”

After that, I felt the warm embrace of my parents, and perhaps they had forgiven me. The love in the house was so abundant that even the maid couldn’t hold back her tears.

Looking back, I still feel deep regret. Never do foolish things to those you love, my friends!

Mỗi lần đi ngang qua quán game gần trường, là em lại nhớ về một kỉ niệm đã xảy ra cách đây khá lâu. Lần đó, em đã làm một việc khiến bố mẹ phải phiền lòng rất nhiều.

Hôm đó, vì quá mê trò chơi mới phát hành, mà em đã trốn học để ra chơi ở quán game gần trường. Suốt buổi sáng hôm đó, em đã chơi game trong sự sung sướng và hạnh phúc. Đến khi tiếng trống tan trường vang lên, thì em cũng cầm cặp sách và hòa vào dòng các học sinh tan học rồi đi về nhà. Về đến nhà, em giả vờ như mình vừa đi học về, và chào bố mẹ như hằng ngày rồi về phòng. Về đến phòng em cảm thấy rất vui khi thành công trốn học đi chơi mà không bị phát hiện.

Thế nhưng, một lát sau, bố mẹ vào phòng em với vẻ mặt rất nghiêm túc. Thì ra, lúc sáng, không thấy em đến trường nên cô giáo đã gọi về nhà cho bố mẹ để hỏi thăm. Vậy là, bố mẹ đã biết tất cả. Giây phút ấy, nhìn thấy sự thất vọng, chán chường trên khuôn mặt của bố mẹ mà em ân hận vô cùng. Em đã vừa khóc vừa xin lỗi bố mẹ liên tục. Khi nhìn thấy sự hối lỗi của em, bố mẹ đã ôm lấy em và dặn rằng: Lần này, bố mẹ sẽ bỏ qua. Nhưng từ nay về sau con không được bỏ học đi chơi và lừa dối người lớn như vậy nữa.

Nghe bố mẹ nói vậy, em rất cảm động và sâu sắc nhận được sai lầm của mình. Cũng từ hôm đó, em luôn tự nhủ lòng mình phải cố gắng học hành chăm chỉ, và luôn trung thực với mọi người. Để bố mẹ không phải phiền lòng như vậy nữa.