A/N: I'm really sorry that some of these are shorter than others.
Harry: Your 13-year-old daughter, Darcy, has always been social. Whether it was offline, or on social media websites. She had everything, with tons of friends, followers, and contacts; whether it was Instagram, Twitter, Facebook, etc. It's probably because she's on each of these sights at least once an hour...
But lately, she's been avoiding everything. One day, you found some poorly cleaned-up blood in the bathroom, and a well-hidden razor. Besides that, you've also seen the cuts on her wrists. Your daughter was cutting. But there was no clear explanation in why.
The most possible one is that she's being cyber-bullied. Just the thought of it brought tears to your eyes. Sadly, your husband Harry can't take care of the problem - he's on a business trip, meeting up with important people in Japan as a representative for his company. You can't call him, of course. Time change doesn't really help. You decided just to confront her.
"Darcy..." you said, lightly tapping on her bedroom door. She didn't answer, and she wasn't in there. Then, you heard light sobs in the bathroom. You slowly walked over to find the door handle unlocked. You slowly turned the knob, and you couldn't believe what you saw, laying on the floor.
Zayn: At the start of preschool, your son had been diagnosed with dyslexia. No matter how hard he tries, his mind just doesn't function as well as all the other kids'.
Of course, that causes a stir with all the other kids, with him being so different and all.
No doubt that the problem grew worse when he started 3rd grade. One day, he came home with bloodshot eyes and a faint trail of tears running down his face.
"Hey, Hunter. How was school?" you asked, as you continued making dinner.
"Fine." You also hard a sniff coming from his nose.
"Are you okay?" you asked again, walking up to him this time.
You then put a hand on his shoulder. "If you want to talk about something that's bothering you, it's okay. You can also talk to dad; he's in his office right now."
A few more tears streamed down his bright cheeks. "School's really hard, mom."
"This dyslexia thing. Ever since first grade, we were divided into reading groups, right? Everyone knows whose in the dumb one and whose in the smart one." He paused. "And it kills me to know that I'm always going to be in the dumb one with this stupid disability!"
You sighed. "Hunter, don't doubt yourself. You're a smart kid, no matter what, okay? If you have any more, just come to me, okay?"
He nodded. "Okay. I love you, mom."