Hana was born into a simple family.
Not poor.
Not rich.
Just enough to survive, to smile, and to hope.
She was twenty-one, living in a quiet village somewhere in Asia, where mornings smelled of earth and evenings were filled with soft winds and unspoken dreams. The kind of place where everyone knew your name — and your story.
Hana lived with her parents and her younger sister, Nami.
Nami was everything Hana tried to protect.
Loud where Hana was quiet.
Carefree where Hana was careful.
Every morning began the same way.
Hana woke up before the sun fully rose. She tied her hair back, washed her face with cold water, and stepped outside. The yard was still wet from the night dew. Chickens moved slowly, the air calm and untouched.
She helped her mother prepare breakfast. Rice, vegetables, simple food — the kind that fills the stomach but not the heart. Yet Hana never complained. This life had shaped her. Made her patient. Gentle.
After breakfast, she cleaned the house, swept the yard, helped Nami get ready, and listened to her father's quiet voice as he spoke about the day's work.
This was Hana's world.
And she belonged to it.
People in the village often talked.
"She's grown beautifully," they said.
"Too beautiful for this village."
Hana heard those words and only smiled politely. Beauty, to her, was never power. It was a responsibility. A reason to lower her gaze, to stay humble.
But there was one person who looked at her differently.
Kai.
Kai lived not far from Hana's house. His family was also ordinary — just a little better off. A bigger house. Fewer worries. But he never acted superior.
He had known Hana since childhood.
They grew up on the same dusty roads, under the same sky, sharing quiet moments that slowly turned into something deeper.
They loved each other.
Not loudly.
Not boldly.
But honestly.
Kai was twenty-one, like Hana. Quiet. Observant. The kind of man who spoke little but felt deeply. When he looked at Hana, there was no judgment. No expectations.
Only understanding.
In the evenings, when the village slowed down, they sometimes walked together — not too close, not too far. Just enough.
Enough to feel safe.
Enough to dream.
Hana often wondered if this life was all she would ever know.
A small village.
Simple days.
A quiet love.
She didn't know yet…
That even the calmest places can hide storms.
And even the purest love can be tested.
This was only the beginning of Hana's story.
Soon....