Every year, five gifts arrived for my birthday.
Always on time.
Always carefully packed.
Always from people I had never met.
There was no sender's address.
No message inside.
Only one name written on every parcel, in neat handwriting.
Han.
I never questioned it when I was younger.
Gifts were gifts. Love was love.
But this year felt different.
I was turning eighteen.
That morning, I got ready for college faster than usual. My bag was packed, my hair still slightly damp. I checked the time twice before stepping out.
"Papa," I said, walking toward him, "we have only fifteen minutes left. Let's go."
He looked at me calmly, as if time didn't matter.
"Sit," he said. "Eat first."
"We'll be late," I insisted.
"No tension," he replied. "I'll drop you on time."
I didn't argue after that. I never did.
We rode through the familiar roads in silence. The wind brushed against my face, but my mind was heavy. The same thought I had buried for years surfaced again.
"Papa…" I said softly.
He didn't answer, but he didn't stop the bike either.
"My birthday is coming," I continued. "You always say it's a surprise."
Still no reply.
I hesitated, then spoke the question that had lived inside me longer than I could remember.
"Every year, I receive five gifts," I said. "From unknown people."
His hands tightened slightly on the handle.
"I only know one name on the parcels," I added. "Han."
The bike slowed.
"Who are they, Papa?" I asked. "How do they know what I like?"
Silence.
"Why do they send me gifts every year?"
The bike stopped.
"Stop talking," he said suddenly.
His voice wasn't angry.
It was scared.
I froze.
It was the first time I felt afraid of my father.
I turned to look at him. His face wasn't tired. It wasn't strict. It was disturbed — like someone trying to hold a wall that was about to break.
"Don't talk about these things again," he said quickly. "And never say that name."
The college gate came into view.
"Okay," I whispered.
"Study well," he added, avoiding my eyes. "Go home by yourself in the evening. I won't come."
Before I could ask anything more, he left.
I stood there, watching him disappear into the traffic.
My chest felt tight.
Why did my questions scare him?
Who were those people?
And why did a name I had never known feel like it already belonged to my life?
I picked up my bag and walked toward the gate.
For the first time, my simple life didn't feel simple anymore.
End of Chapter 1