A Surprise in the Night

It was a bare winter night. A dark figure emerged from the steps of the train station, her breath forming clouds in the air. She was wearing a long, thickly padded winter coat that reached her calves, with the hood tightly secured around her face. Despite her cocoon-like protection, the occasional strong gusts of wind seemed to cut straight through, chilling her to the bones. Teeth chattering, she folded her arms and made short, quick steps, making a shuffling noise from the friction of her clothes. The rough cement street was wet from the slight snow from a few hours ago, already melted and having formed small puddles. Just half an hour ago, she had left the party quite tipsy, her face flushed pink, but the bitter cold forcefully yanked her mind from its state of grogginess to reality.

She found herself grumbling that maybe she should have just taken a cab and be comfortably delivered straight to her flat, instead of having to suffer so. But she knew why she made the trouble of leaving the gathering early and rushed to take the last train back home. Like any other college student, she was dead broke.

Nevertheless, she was thoroughly enjoying her life as an international student in Seoul. Too much in fact, that her grades dipped a new low, and she lost her scholarship. Her parents, already very disapproving of her choice of country when she had abruptly announced her decision to study abroad, made no hesitation in revealing their disappointment and threatened her to return home. In childish reciprocation, she applied for the winter programme and informed them that she was not returning home for the holidays. She knew she had overreacted, and regretted it afterwards, but her application was accepted and it was too late to do anything else about it. Though she refused to admit it, she had been harbouring a tiny childish grudge ever since she realised her parents refused to support or at least recognise her passion. It had gnawed its way from the corner of her heart, feeding on the frustration when she lost her scholarship, and finally exploded into a fit of anger from the phone call with her parents.

She knew she had to apologise. But she was terrible with apologies. She was bad at receiving them and even worse at saying it. She fiddled with her phone every day, looking at her parents' contact and struggling to muster up the courage. But a week had passed since her very one-sided notice and her still not contacting her parents. She knew her not being able to properly apologise tormented not only herself but also her surrounding people. Shamelessly enough, she was hoping a little that her parents would call her first, but even more shameless was the fact that she was more than a little disappointed when they did not. 

With the help of alcohol, which she had chugged quite a bit of at the gathering earlier, she had determined to call them tonight. She was going to call them, genuinely apologise, and reassure them that she was going to try hard to make them proud. And maybe she could also say that she missed them a lot, that she really loved them and hoped they would also support her in what she loved doing. That would need a lot more effort. She convinced herself that she was indeed still very tipsy while she carefully avoided the small puddle in front of her with deliberate steps.

The street was dark, the distance of the dim lamp posts being quite far apart. She was usually not afraid of the 15-minute walk back home from the train station. There was a 24-hour convenience store midway, its blinding white LED lighting leaking out and illuminating its immediate surroundings. The artificial glow was strangely comforting. And usually, she was drunk enough to be a happy-go-lucky girl who wasn't afraid of the dark.

But today, with her mind wide awake, she noticed the details that her tipsy self was not at all scared of. She stopped in front of the narrow street she had to turn into to reach her flat. It seemed to be engulfed by darkness. A little frightened but not enough to admit it, she swallowed hard and looked up for no reason, as if seeking the presence of at least something other than herself. Yet the winter sky of Seoul had not a single star, and the glow of the moon was blocked by thin clouds that painted across the dark sky like brush strokes. The street was curiously empty and eerily quiet. Am I the only one here? She looked back, forcing herself to gain some courage from the artificial brightness of the convenience store as if she could borrow some of the light her way home.

Her heart started beating lightly against her chest, but she took in a short breath and turned the corner, her steps hurried and brisk. She reassured herself that her neighbourhood was safe, as she sometimes saw a police car patrolling the area on her way home. She poked out her head to look back at the main street to hopefully catch a glimpse of the familiar car, but the same white glow of the convenience store was her only source of comfort. Her lips formed a hard, determined line as she shuffled her feet quickly.

By the time she reached her flat building, she was quite breathless. The colourless building towered over her, cold and unwelcome. Panting, she raised her finger to enter the passcode to unlock the main door of the building but quickly retracted it, recalling that it had been malfunctioning since the day before. A strange sort of dread and anxiety dawned over her. 'Darn it all,' she mumbled and looked about her surroundings hurriedly before pulling on the handle of the glass door.

The building of her one-room flat was old and had no elevator. She definitely could not protest against that, since it was the cheapest room she could find with the best option for her. Sure, moving in was a huge pain but she found herself a flat in a relatively safe neighbourhood located conveniently near the university.

There was no lighting but her eyes quickly got used to the dark silhouette of the staircase thanks to the windows in the building. She started walking up the stairs, her footsteps seeming to echo loudly. The stairs were made of cheap marble, making a hollow sound that suddenly stuck her as sounding particularly weird. She shook her head and pushed that thought aside.

Her mother had always said that she was full of worries, her imaginative brain concocting stories and torturing herself with all the what-ifs. As she climbed up the stairs, she forced herself to think of anything other than the urban horror stories starting to pop up in her brain. Her palpitating heart was thumping a little more heavily against her rib cage, to the point that she could hear her heartbeat over her footsteps as she started taking three steps each foot. The windows at the wall of the staircase brought in the dim moonlight that barely illuminated the dark silhouette of the stairs, producing a rather creepy effect.

Upon reaching her floor, she was huffing noticeably loudly, sweat starting to gather on her brows. Her legs shaking a little, she attempted to pull herself together and breathed a sigh of relief at finally reaching home safe.

When her eyes noticed the package placed outside her door, she flinched hard. "Wha-", she breathed. Knowing full well she was alone, she frantically looked around her despite herself. She did not recall ordering anything online, and there was absolutely no occasion for the unfamiliar package that seemed to be addressed to herself. She scrambled forward to read the receiver address, and in small printed letters found her full name as well as her address. Her mind started racing. Nobody here knew her full name in English. She was an international student with a foreign name that her Korean peers could not remember easily.  

Her mind was racing wild with questions but she knew the only answer was in its contents. She did not want to check the contents in her flat, so she squatted and started picking at the packing tape with her fingernails. In a satisfyingly single pull, she ripped off the tape and impatiently opened up the box.

She pulled aside the wrapping bubble and kneeled over the contents of the package. Upon realising what was inside, she loudly sighed out what she was unconsciously holding in. At the same time, a warm fuzzy feeling spread over her body and she felt herself melting down, partly due to relief and partly due to what she saw. It was a Christmas Advent Calendar and a letter placed on top of it, decorated with colourful red and green stickers. Immediately she knew who it was from. There was only one suspect. Or two, she corrected herself.

She recalled receiving something like this when she was little, a small girl with bright eyes and rosy cheeks. She was a constant chatterbox and was used to being doted on by the people around her. Amongst her childhood memories, the days spent at home with her parents during the Christmas season were the ones she was most fond of. Christmas had a magic effect - it seemed to make everyone a little more cheerful and the air had a sort of bubbly excitement to it. Every morning starting from December, she would clamour from the bed with her eyes half-open, excitedly unwrapping her gift. It was nothing too fancy - a small doll or a bar of chocolate, but her innocent young face would light up and she would run to hug her parents. They would smile and kiss her cheeks and have breakfast together. The sunlight would shine in through the window and white snow fell like flower petals from the sky. Her parents played their favourite Christmas jazz playlist that hummed lightly while they spoke and laughed together. The cold, harsh winter was unbelievably warm at home with her family.

Much had changed since then. She was now an adult, like her parents. They were separated by a 13-hour plane ride, a 14-hour time difference. When she was young she used to blindly look forward to being an adult and have "adult responsibilities". Who would have known how heavy and tiring reality could be. And yet her parents had shown no sign of weariness in front of her, raising her with all the love they had. She lowered her head in shame. What have I been doing. She brought her hands to her face, her cheeks having dried tear streaks that rolled and collected on her chin.

When she had finally managed to gather herself, she picked up the precious parcel and slowly straightened her legs. A sheepish smile started forming on her lips. She had long forgotten about the nervousness and anxiety from a few minutes ago, the tension having been entirely broken as if by a spell, and she was now engulfed by a strange giddy feeling - a mixture of relief, regret, remorse and happiness. She found herself already looking forward to opening the gifts though it was not yet December.

'They do spoil me,' she thought, failing to bring down the corners of her lips. 'I was going to say it first.' As she entered the flat, she was already grinning from ear to ear and humming a familiar carol song. 

The door shut behind her, and the clouds shifted a little. It seemed as if the marble steps were shimmering under the glow of the moon, seeming to remind one of the arrival of the magical festive season.