The whole house soon filled with the smell of sweet saffron and honey. Her mother was busy in the kitchen, baking a tall cake decorated with pomegranate seeds that looked like rubies. Neighbors stopped by with bundles of wildflowers, calling out, "Nermin qızım, ad günün mübarək!"

As the stars came out, the music box played one last time. Nermin went to sleep knowing she was the luckiest girl in the world, not because of the cake or the wood carving, but because she was home.

Her father, a hardworking man with calloused hands, had spent months carving a small wooden music box. He hid it under her pillow while she slept. When Nermin woke up and found it, she turned the tiny silver crank. A melody played that sounded exactly like the lullabies her mother used to sing.

Nermin lived in a village where every flower bowed when she walked by. Her name meant "soft" and "gentle," and her heart was even softer. On the morning of her birthday, the sun rose with a special golden glow just for her.