LEADEN

THE SHARPEST SWORD

“Yusuf, don’t be ridiculous! By what right do you fire that man?” I shouted, as he dragged me across the marble steps of our mansion’s entrance.

“Should I kick you out, Naz? Should I kick you out instead? Get over here, don’t make me angrier.” He responded with anger, forcing me inside our home.

I couldn’t resist that insult. “Yusuf, will you let go of my arm now? You’re dragging me around like an object.”

“You still have the nerve to speak when you should know your fault and keep quiet?”

“YUSUF, ENOUGH!” I finally screamed, yanking my arm free from his grasp.

I didn’t know if it was out of anger or wounded pride, but my eyes welled up. It hadn’t even been a year since I married Yusuf, yet his actions had pushed me to my limit. He’d attacked my driver for no reason, simply because the man had held my hand while helping me out of the car, and I’d thanked him with a smile. Yusuf not only attacked the poor man but also fired him. That was nonsense; that guy had been my employee for years! I’d registered his social security; *I* was the one who paid his salary. Yusuf had attacked him and scared him so badly that the man couldn’t utter a single word of protest. If Yusuf weren’t my husband, he’d have seen what was coming to him, of course. Hüseyin wouldn’t tolerate nonsense from a man like Yusuf. But he probably didn’t want to retaliate against my husband. Yusuf not only fired my employee, but on top of that, he started dragging me by the arm from the garage into the house. The i***t was literally dragging me up the courtyard stairs. Finally, I snapped and started fighting back.

“ENOUGH!” I said. “I’m sick of you! The man was just doing his job! Of course, in your defense, some things are about family upbringing,” I added, my voice laced with insult. “How would you know about such manners? You’re a parvenu, a boor, who doesn’t even know how to open a car door for his wife.”

“I didn’t come into this world with a silver spoon in my mouth like you, madam.” He responded with my own tone. “We earned our way through hard work.”

“Hah! Hard work, indeed! Don’t even believe it! You had a small dive bar. By some chance, a celebrity happened to walk in and gambled illegally, and you threatened him and built this company with the money you extorted from him. As if I don’t know you, you scoundrel.”

We were both blinded by our anger, and it was difficult to curb our tongues. The ship had already sailed, and we were drowning.

“If I didn’t have this mind, could I have leveraged that money like this? I achieved this with my own strength, unlike you, a crooked princess who came from her daddy’s crystal palace.”

He knew perfectly well how sensitive I was about this. And what he said wasn’t true. Yet, when he was angry, he never feared hurting me. I stormed inside from the courtyard and hurled one of the antique Chinese vases, which added richness to the interior decor, against the wall in the foyer.

“I’ve been working since I was fourteen to train myself for my father’s businesses!” I screamed. “At fourteen,” I repeated, to emphasize. “I started working in a tea stall in one branch of my father’s clothing store chain! Gradually, as my work experience grew, I rose to become a sales clerk in his stores, then a waitress in his restaurant, a receptionist in his hotels, and a secretary in his start-up companies. I finished university and got an MBA in the States. I returned with honors and a degree. I was featured in all the newspapers in the USA. I was on primetime news here because of my academic achievements. My father had money, but I studied on scholarship. Not only that, I worked there too. While all my friends were off having fun, I worked like a dog, Yusuf! My father made my brothers, who are not even half as qualified as me, first managers and then shareholders in the groups. What was the job he deemed suitable for me?” My frustration surged again as I spoke.

I talked as if the i***t didn’t know the story. On top of my anger at Yusuf, my anger at my father piled up. I grabbed the meter-tall statue standing by the side and threw it against the other wall.

“Damn you, woman! Why are you throwing the valuables around to break? Do you have any idea how much I paid for them?”

“Of course, darling…” I said with a cheeky tone. “We give these as special gifts to our employees on certain occasions.”

“If you had considered the job your father offered you as your brother’s assistant, you could have had something like that too, you know…” he said mockingly.

They say, “The sharpest sword is often forged by a friend.” My husband, who should have been the closest to me, whom I expected to heal my wounds, was adding another blow to my existing injuries, wanting to make me bleed from the same spot again. Wasn’t he supposed to be my partner in this life? The man across from me was doing nothing but burdening me with new weight and opening new wounds.

“You’ve never been worth a damn thing, Yusuf,” I said in disappointment.