Arriving home with my father and brother after waiting in the snaking queue for the new Samsung Galaxy 12, I gulped one litre of iced water. With a headache just from waiting in the summer heat, I plopped down on the couch and exclaimed, “What an interesting day!”
My father raced out of the house soon after due to a last minute urgent matter at work, without saying a word and leaving the phone unattended. I could finally get my hands on my father’s new phone!
Despite many stern warnings from my father, I inspected the milky white box. A little voice inside me egged me on, telling me to open the box. I caved in to the pressure and lifted up the lid gingerly. There it was — the Samsung Galaxy 12! Sparkling in its brand new glory, it was just as glamorous as advertised. Scooping it out of the box, it felt so smooth! Ignoring every single warning my father issued, I turned the phone around and touched its screen, leaving my oily fingerprints on the screen, clear as day. Little did I know that, just around the corner, somebody had caught sight of me, red-handed, admiring the phone.
“Hey! Is that daddy’s new phone?” my brother asked curiously. Hearing that, I started waving my hand to shoo him away. However, he advanced, ignoring all my pleas just as I had ignored my father’s warnings. My brother was a volcano of trouble waiting to erupt. I could not let him get his hands on the phone! Using a single hand to obstruct him while holding the phone with the other, my brother stretched his hands like never before. Unexpectedly, he succeeded. One tiny finger poked me right in the eye, sending an excruciating pain up my eye and blinding me temporarily. In the pain and confusion, I lost my grip on the phone which slowly slid out of my once tight grasp. I turned my head slowly and… Bang!
The phone screen had cracked like glass. One hit and thousands of cracks appeared all the way throughout the phone, like an intricate and mesmerising spiderweb. My eyes widened with fear, guilt welling up in my chest. The punishment for this blatant disobedience was unthinkable. Panicking, I picked up the phone, inspecting its terrible condition. There was no going back now.
“Daddy is going to explode with anger!” my brother’s wails reverberated through the house. Trepidation gripped me like a chokehold. While my heart palpitated wildly, the guilt pervaded all my sense leaving me frozen and speechless. To make matters worse, I could hear the beeping of my father’s car as it reversed into the parking lot. Then, the lock turned anti-clockwise. The door handle was pushed downwards, and the door was pushed open. He was back. He greeted us with a warm smile. Unaware of what had happened. “How do I break the bad news?” I deliberated.
“Daddy! He broke your new phone!” my brother shrieked, pointing an accusatory finger at me.
My father took a while to digest it while I reeled in shock. He became very exasperated and questioned, “Is this true?”
Taking in a deep breath, filling my lungs with air and mustering all my courage, I shamefacedly confessed, “Yes… It’s true… I’m sorry.”
He took some time to take it in and asked, “Were you going to confess to me even if your brother had not said anything?” Filled with a deep sense of regret, I nodded my head slowly while keeping my head low.
When he heard that and saw a single tear trickled down my face, he walked over to me and patted me on my head and spoke assuringly, “It’s okay, as long as you know that you have done something wrong.” My eyebrows relaxed and the creases of my worry disappeared from my forehead. I nodded in contrition to my father who still punished me for my disobedience by reducing my pocket money and increasing the number of chores I had to do. However, this worrying incident had surprisingly given me a gift — a lesson.
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