For my thirtieth birthday, my mother-in-law handed me a small box wrapped in thin paper. Inside was a simple teapot from a local market. I smiled and thanked her, though I quietly felt a touch of disappointment. It didn’t match my kitchen, and it wasn’t the kind of milestone gift I had imagined. Still, I appreciated the gesture, placed it in a cabinet, and let it fade into the background of everyday life.
Five years later, during a full kitchen renovation, I emptied cabinets and rediscovered forgotten items. The teapot appeared again, tucked behind stacks of plates. Before donating it, I decided to clean it. As I lifted the lid, something rattled inside. Curious, I tipped it gently and found a folded note sealed in plastic and a small velvet pouch hidden within.
