As a child, I was curious. One thing I enjoyed doing to satisfy my curiosity was to rummage through our house for hidden treasures. I was sure that there were secrets my parents kept away from me.

One day, home alone, I went treasure hunting again. This time my target was Father’s study, where I hoped to dig out something interesting. I was making a thorough search. Finally, I came upon a stack of papers wrapped in a plastic folder tucked away in a deep corner of a drawer. When I unwrapped the stuff, a lot of handwritten letters greeted my eye.

I could hardly wait to read. Heart pounding, I browsed through one letter after another. I was pretty sure that they were all love letters and that they were all addressed to a woman called Slender. The hand was without a doubt my father’s.

Some burning questions popped into my head. Why weren’t the letters written to Mum? Was Father having an affair? Oh, my God. I had hit upon gold.

No sooner had Mum come back from work than I went over and shared my discovery with her. Not only that, but also I showed her all the letters addressed to the woman called Slender. To my perplexity, Mum was not as furious as I had expected. Instead, she was amused. With a smile, she took over all the letters and put them away. I thought Father would have to face the music when he came back.

When Father was back, at dinner, Mum returned all the letters to Dad and asked him to take good care of them. Without a trace of shame, she betrayed me, saying I had been sneaking through Father’s personal stuff.

Father blushed instantly at Mother’s revelation. After dinner, he gave me a lengthy lecture on the importance of respecting others’ privacy.

By then, the puzzle on my mind had been building up to a point where I thought my head was about to burst. Although what Mum had done stunned me, I respected her for her extraordinary tolerance. However, it was still beyond me that Mother did not even feel a thing about Dad’s writing passionate letters to a woman called Slender. Why was that?

Years passed after the letter incident. One day, I was treasure hunting in the house again when I came across one of Mum’s notebooks, which dated back to her college days. Yes, Mum’s full name was on the cover, but inside I found out that Mum had a nickname. It was Slender. Her friends had all called her by that.

Oh Lord! All the vivid details of the letter incident sprang back to mind: Mum’s reaction to my discovery, Father’s red face, and more.

What a fool I had been!