I told Mom my best grade. She mentioned the neighbor's kid.

All semester he stayed up until 2-3am, skipped meals, turned down friends. A GPA of 8.2 — the highest he's ever had. He dials home, hands still shaking from the excitement.

He shares the grade, and the line goes quiet. Then his mom says it lightly: "Oh, you know the Tam family's daughter got a 9.0 at the engineering school." He doesn't cry. Something just deflates in his chest.

Those three seconds of silence felt longer than a whole semester of late nights. His ears ring, he hangs up, wipes his face once, and turns back to the laptop still open in front of him.

He keeps typing his assignment in the dorm, wondering when he'll ever be good enough for his mom to stop comparing. There's no answer yet. But his hands keep moving.

When will I be good enough for her? I'm already good enough for me.

Sometimes the best grade of your life is something the person you love most is the last to see. Are you waiting for a word of praise that never quite comes?