Galit Ako sa Aking Ama Dahil Hindi Ko Nakuha ang Regalo sa Aking Ika-18 Kaarawan, Hanggang Isang Araw ay Nabuksan ang Lumang Aparador sa Bahay at Tuluyang Gumuho ang Aking Mundo/th

The Last Birthday Gift from My Father

On my 18th birthday, I once thought I would be the happiest girl in the world.
I had spent the whole year dreaming about a flowing white dress, just like the one I had seen through the glass of a shop window in the big city. The dress had a layer of voile as light as clouds, a small, delicate bow at the waist—just putting it on would make me look like a princess straight out of a fairy tale.

I imagined myself wearing it, standing in the middle of my birthday party, my friends gasping in admiration, and phones constantly snapping photos.
But everything shattered with just one sentence from my father:

“This year… I don’t have enough money. Just wear your old dress, you’ll still look beautiful.”

I froze. Not because of the dress itself, but because it felt like my dream for my 18th birthday had been crushed. I didn’t reply—just stood up, walked into my room, and slammed the door shut.

For the days that followed, I avoided him. There were only the two of us in the house—my mother had passed away when I was just six. My father played both roles of father and mother, working tirelessly at all kinds of jobs—construction laborer, delivery driver, night watchman at a building site. But back then, I didn’t think about any of that. I only felt hurt, convinced that he wasn’t trying hard enough for me.

I didn’t know… that on nights when I was asleep, he would quietly leave the house to work an extra night shift at a construction site. I also didn’t know that his calloused hands and tired, sleepless eyes were trading away every coin he could earn to make my dream of that white dress come true.

That afternoon, the sky poured with rain. I was at school when I got a call from an unfamiliar number. A man’s urgent voice came through:

“Are you Mr. Tuấn’s daughter? Your father… he’s had an accident at work. He’s in critical condition.”

I dropped my phone and ran through the heavy downpour like a madwoman.
The hospital was only three kilometers away, but each step felt unbearably heavy.
When I arrived, the doors to the emergency room were already closed.
The doctor walked out, eyes downcast.
I knew… my father had left me forever.

I collapsed, trying to cry out, “Dad!” between sobs. But he could no longer hear me.

After the funeral, the small house became so quiet I could hear the wind slipping through the cracks in the door. I began sorting through his belongings.
In his old wardrobe, I found a small box wrapped in floral paper, tied with a clumsy ribbon. On top was a hastily written but familiar line:

“For my beloved daughter, on her 18th birthday.”

My hands trembled as I peeled away the wrapping paper.
Inside… was the white dress I had dreamed of all year.
It still carried the scent of new fabric.
On top lay a small card:

“My daughter is the most beautiful girl in the world. Always smile, even if I’m not there with you.”

I broke down, my sobs tearing through the silence of the house.
I clutched the dress to my chest, feeling as though my father was still somewhere close, still watching over me.
And now I finally understood—the last extra shift he worked to buy me this dress… was also the shift that took him away from me forever.

On my 18th birthday, I no longer had a father to blow out the candles with.
But I know, somewhere out there, he is still smiling and believing:

“My daughter… is the most beautiful girl in the world.”