Kuala Lumpur-born Tsen, then in his mid-twenties and working as an engineer, was in Chandler, Arizona in the US. Han was his girlfriend, living in Penang.
They first met in the Borsalino discotheque in Penang’s Parkroyal Hotel.
“He came up to me,” smiles Han, “with the usual line, would you like to dance?”
The following week, Han and her friends were at the same nightspot, and so was Tsen. “We started chatting, and I remember feeling very comfortable with him, and that’s how our relationship began,” she recalls.
As with all great love stories, there is always a bump or several to overcome.
Less than a year into their new romance, Tsen, in his mid-twenties and an engineer, was unexpectedly asked to relocate to the US for work, for a year.
Han, then just 20 years old and still in college, could not follow.
What kept the flame alive, across oceans and seas, was a regular stream of love-laden handwritten letters, because not only were trans-oceanic telephone calls expensive, but email was not as ubiquitous as it is now.
“He would call me occasionally,” remembers Han, “but they were short calls.”
The thought that their budding relationship would not survive the distance never once crossed Han’s mind. And rightly so.
As she generously shares anecdotes and excerpts from these private love letters, it is easy to see why a woman would wait faithfully for her man.
One excerpt reads: “Darling Mee Lan, everyday waking up, your sight comes into my mind, I always can’t wait till 5pm to call you. Today and right now I’m dying to hear your sweet voice. I don’t think I can face anymore separation, Mee Lan.
“When you do go to Australia and come back, I want us to be together, no more separation, it is killing me and torturing me. Let me be your perfect lover, I can’t stop loving you and I want to marry you, make your dreams come true, share my life together with you and only for you.”
The letter is dated July 16, 1995, and made its way from Arizona to Penang. Tsen was 28 and Han, who later went on to study in Australia, was 21.
Soon, the couple registered their marriage in Penang, and when Tsen was relocated for another short work assignment to the US, Han was able to follow him.
“Sometimes, I would find two to three letters in one envelope, because he would write and compile them, but I was always so happy and excited to receive the letters when I opened up the letterbox!”
The couple have two children aged 14 and 19. The eldest, their daughter, found – and read – the letters kept safely in a cabinet, without telling Han, but mum is totally cool about it.
“When my husband knew I was looking at these letters, he was amused, because he hasn’t revisited these letters for so long, but he was also amazed at what he wrote,” Han laughs.
“He said, ‘wow, did I write this?!’ because Tsen is a man who shows his love in his actions, as a steadfast provider,” says Han, and not the sort of overly-expressive romantic hero idealised in novels and film.
Nonetheless, that their marriage has survived and thrived for a quarter of a century is proof not just of wilful commitment, but also of certain universal truths.
“In the early years, there will be fights, but it will be okay,” Han shares.
“I wasn’t as matured then as I am now, and as the years pass and progress, when you mature, you understand your partner better,” she says; “How they carry themselves, their character – and you accommodate them better.”
When partners are more mature, she believes, they accept each other better because they understand each other better, even the differences between them.
“You must ask yourself the question if you are able to accept or tolerate aspects of your partner. But most importantly, you must be comfortable with the person you choose to spend your life with.”
And with today being Valentine’s Day, that is the timeless advice Han would give her daughter if and when she meets a person who will express his love for her in his own unique way.