"Why are you staring at me like that?" I asked curiously while having lunch.
Rim didn't answer. She simply smiled — that quiet, mysterious smile of hers — and continued eating.
I ignored it at first and finished my meal.
While clearing the dishes, I reminded her in my usual tone,
"Rim, please hurry up. Finish your lunch, take some rest, and then sit for your studies. Your exams are going on — no wasting time. I also need to finish my work quickly."
Very politely she replied, "Yes, Mom… I'm almost done."
Within a few minutes, she finished eating and walked toward me.
"Mom…"
"Yes, tell me," I said, expecting a request.
But again — that same smile. No words.
Now my curiosity grew stronger. "What is it? Don't just smile… say something!"
She gently said, "You finish your work first. Then I'll tell you."
I agreed, though my mind was already restless. As I hurried through my chores, countless thoughts crossed my mind. What does she want to say? Did something happen in school? Does she need anything?
The moment I finished, I called her.
She came quietly and sat beside me on the sofa.
Before I could ask anything, she suddenly hugged me tightly and whispered,
"Thank you, Mom."
I froze in surprise.
"Thank you? For what? Do you want something?" I asked playfully.
She looked at me with loving eyes and said softly,
"No, Mama… I don't need anything. I just wanted to say thank you because you are a great mom."
Her words touched my heart, yet I was puzzled.
"Oh really? But why today?"
Rim took a deep breath and began sharing what had happened during her exam.
"Today, one of my friends suddenly started crying in the examination hall. The teacher came and asked what happened. She said she couldn't remember anything. She was completely blank."
Rim paused for a moment.
"Later she somehow continued writing, but her exam didn't go well. After the exam, we asked her what was wrong. She told us that yesterday, after returning home, she discussed her question paper with her mother. Then she realized she had written one four-mark question completely wrong and even two other answers were incorrect. Her mother became very upset… and she felt so depressed that she couldn't prepare properly for today's exam."
I listened silently.
Rim held my hand and continued,
"And you know, Mom… I suddenly realized something. During exams, you never discuss the paper once I come home. Many times I insisted, but you always said, 'Leave it now. Focus on tomorrow's exam.' Sometimes I felt annoyed… but today I understood why."
Her voice softened.
"You didn't want my next exam to suffer because of my past mistakes. That's why I wanted to say thank you. Love you, Mom."
My heart filled with warmth. Smiling, I replied,
"I'm so happy that you understood, dear. Once an exam is over, nothing can be changed — whether answers are right or wrong. Discussing mistakes again and again only creates stress. Everyone makes mistakes. What matters is preparing calmly for the next challenge."
I gently stroked her hair.
"Exams already bring enough pressure. Why carry yesterday's worries into tomorrow?"
Rim nodded thoughtfully.
"Yes, Mom. From today onward, I'll never ask you to discuss a paper that's already done."
We hugged each other — a silent moment filled with understanding, love, and pride.
That day, I realized something beautiful.
Sometimes, motherhood isn't about teaching through lectures…
it's about being understood — even without explanation.
And the sweetest reward for a mother is the moment her child finally understands the love hidden behind her decisions.