Servet walked down the familiar street, his schoolbag slung over one shoulder, feeling the weight of his recent math exam score. He reached his apartment, pressed the elevator button, and rode the lift to his floor.

Servet entered, taking off his shoes and placing them neatly in the cabinet. His mother sat on the couch, absorbed in the news, while his father's attention was fixed on his phone. His father looked up, displeasure etched on his face. "Servet, you're 12 years old and in the 6th grade. Is 60 the best you can do?" Servet replied defensively, "But the exam was difficult, Dad. Almost everyone struggled."

His mother intervened, "Stop comparing him to others. He's trying his best." His father dismissed her concerns, "The neighbor's daughter got 100 in science, and she's only two years older." Anger boiled over, and Servet dashed out of the apartment, his father close behind.

Servet ran down the street, with his father in pursuit. Stray dogs picked up on the chase, barking and joining the pursuit. A woman on a nearby balcony witnessed the chaos, rushed barefoot with her slippers in hand, ready to intervene.

Servet burst into the hospital, finding refuge in an operating room. To his surprise, a young patient lay on the table, waking up to the commotion. "What's happening?" the child asked. Servet explained everything, his voice a mix of excitement and fear.

Eventually, Servet was caught and brought back home, where he faced the consequences of his escapade. He sat quietly, grounded but relieved, knowing that the evening had been anything but ordinary.