The first two turned me down. Flat rejections, the kind that sit in your chest for a while. The third said yes, and it happened to be a respected name, so my parents were over the moon.
They celebrated hard. Told relatives, took me out, the whole thing. And I just let them have the version where their kid got in on merit and ambition, not the version with two "we regret to inform you" letters buried underneath.
It's been ten years. It genuinely does not matter anymore - the college was great, my life turned out fine, nobody would even care.
And yet it still lives in me like a small secret worth guarding. Maybe because letting them be that proud, that uncomplicatedly, felt like a gift I didn't want to take back.