(no subject)
Dear Madam,
I met your daughter five years ago. There was a big group of us meeting together to queue up for the free Starbucks coffee that they were giving away. She was a friend’s friend in a green sweater and I was a scrawny kid in a white t-shirt with really bad skin. I was captivated by her laughter, enthralled by her wit, and taken in by her looks. All of us decided to go to Sentosa to while away our time. After all, it was just a stone’s throw away from Harbourfront.
Everybody was fawning over this one girl called Helena. You wouldn’t have liked her. Goth, uncouth, and showing too much skin that it bordered on the slutty side of class. But everyone wanted to impress her.
I wasn’t one of them.
I had a deck of cards with me and the only thing that would be considered attractive was my dexterity with fingers. I could morph cards with a wave of my hand, make cards disappear and appear at will, and transform the Ace of Spades into any card you wanted. I had no idea what she found attractive in me back then. But somehow, I managed to wrangle a date with her.
One date became two. Two dates became numerous and soon, as all teenage relationships we go, we became attached.
We ventured to the zoo, taking pictures with the lions and imitated the penguins. We took a trip down to the Science Centre, discovering the world beyond us in the Imax theatre. We laughed, we cried, and we shared. And soon, I began to fall in love with your daughter. I would wake up with that hope in my heart that only love can provide and the belief that she could make me a better man.
Then, I found out that you disapproved of me. Who wouldn’t. I was from a poor family. You’re relatively well-off. I was of Malay descent. She was a Chinese. I was from a polytechnic. She scaled the heights of Raffles Junior College. I was not good enough for your daughter.
I understood. But I strove to believe that if I demonstrated my sincerity, you would be moved.
Two years passed and soon, you regarded me as some sort of an annoyance. A pest who would go away the moment you close your eyes. But I continued to fight.
Three years. Same old story.
Four years.
And you realised I was here to stay. So, you stopped speaking to your daughter until she decided to break it off with me.
I could not bear to see that. I knew how much her family meant to her, how big of a role her parents played in her life. I had to let her go. And I did.
It was the hardest decision of my life.
But it had to be done.
I want your daughter to be happy. And I hope your daughter finds happiness, even if it’s not with me. Because it’s the least she deserves.
I bear no hatred against you, no deep-seated grudges. I would want the best for my daughter too. Please accept my sincerest apologies for not being well-off, for not becoming a doctor or lawyer, for not being born a Chinese.
But most of all, I’m sorry for falling in love with your daughter.
Regards,
Han
I met your daughter five years ago. There was a big group of us meeting together to queue up for the free Starbucks coffee that they were giving away. She was a friend’s friend in a green sweater and I was a scrawny kid in a white t-shirt with really bad skin. I was captivated by her laughter, enthralled by her wit, and taken in by her looks. All of us decided to go to Sentosa to while away our time. After all, it was just a stone’s throw away from Harbourfront.
Everybody was fawning over this one girl called Helena. You wouldn’t have liked her. Goth, uncouth, and showing too much skin that it bordered on the slutty side of class. But everyone wanted to impress her.
I wasn’t one of them.
I had a deck of cards with me and the only thing that would be considered attractive was my dexterity with fingers. I could morph cards with a wave of my hand, make cards disappear and appear at will, and transform the Ace of Spades into any card you wanted. I had no idea what she found attractive in me back then. But somehow, I managed to wrangle a date with her.
One date became two. Two dates became numerous and soon, as all teenage relationships we go, we became attached.
We ventured to the zoo, taking pictures with the lions and imitated the penguins. We took a trip down to the Science Centre, discovering the world beyond us in the Imax theatre. We laughed, we cried, and we shared. And soon, I began to fall in love with your daughter. I would wake up with that hope in my heart that only love can provide and the belief that she could make me a better man.
Then, I found out that you disapproved of me. Who wouldn’t. I was from a poor family. You’re relatively well-off. I was of Malay descent. She was a Chinese. I was from a polytechnic. She scaled the heights of Raffles Junior College. I was not good enough for your daughter.
I understood. But I strove to believe that if I demonstrated my sincerity, you would be moved.
Two years passed and soon, you regarded me as some sort of an annoyance. A pest who would go away the moment you close your eyes. But I continued to fight.
Three years. Same old story.
Four years.
And you realised I was here to stay. So, you stopped speaking to your daughter until she decided to break it off with me.
I could not bear to see that. I knew how much her family meant to her, how big of a role her parents played in her life. I had to let her go. And I did.
It was the hardest decision of my life.
But it had to be done.
I want your daughter to be happy. And I hope your daughter finds happiness, even if it’s not with me. Because it’s the least she deserves.
I bear no hatred against you, no deep-seated grudges. I would want the best for my daughter too. Please accept my sincerest apologies for not being well-off, for not becoming a doctor or lawyer, for not being born a Chinese.
But most of all, I’m sorry for falling in love with your daughter.
Regards,
Han