6
605 Words
Chapter 6
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Reyhan’s POV
I remained by the window in my home office, shoulders squared against the weight of the night. The moon, half-veiled by restless clouds, cast pale streaks across the courtyard below. It felt as though even the heavens watched my every misstep.
“How did it come to this?” I murmured to the darkness.
A familiar, measured tread approached. I did not turn. Only Kakek moved with such quiet certainty.
His hand settled on my shoulder—warm, firm, unjudging.
> “Zaki told me everything,” he said softly.
I closed my eyes, bracing for his disappointment. It came, gentle but unmistakable.
> “Revenge is a bitter teacher,” he continued. “And you married her for its lesson. That is not our way, nor is it Allah’s.”
My jaw clenched. Shame, anger, confusion collided inside me.
> “Then tell me the truth,” he urged, voice low. “What stirred you in that moment, Reyhan?”
I exhaled, voice barely a whisper.
> “I felt… something I’ve never felt before. When I first saw her—her silence, her sorrow—it ripped at me. But when I learned who she was, rage consumed me. I married her on that fury.”
My words shook in the quiet room.
> “Yet,” I admitted, “I believe Allah guided me. I feel… I did the right thing.”
Kakek’s lips curved in a faint, knowing smile.
> “Feelings are seeds. Nurture them well, or they bear thorns. Treat her kindly, for she is not a pawn—she is your wife.”
I turned to him, voice steadier.
> “I promise you, Kakek. I will care for her.”
His eyes softened.
> “One more thing—how old is she?”
“Seventeen,” I muttered, the number sounding harsh.
His eyebrows rose in gentle rebuke.
> “A child, then. You’ve taken responsibility for a lifetime. Choose your path wisely.”
He squeezed my shoulder and left, his steps fading like a blessing.
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I lingered in the hush before moving toward our room. Each step felt unfamiliar, as though I were traversing a land I did not belong to.
The door opened to a sanctuary scented with roses and fresh linen. Soft lights cast a honeyed glow over the bed where she sat—Alya—veiled no longer, her hair tumbling in loose waves around her pale face.
Her eyes met mine: wide, uncertain, pleading without words.
I closed the door softly behind me, unwilling to show the turmoil in my gaze. I walked to the en-suite and splashed cold water on my face, as though washing away the doubts lodged in my mind.
Returning, I found her still poised on the edge of the bed. The silence between us thrummed with all we had yet to say.
I cleared my throat, voice steadier than I felt.
> “Go freshen up. Change your clothes.”
Her shoulders stiffened. In that moment, I recognized my own cruelty.
But I did not retract the words.
She swallowed hard, eyes flicking down, then nodded. Without a sound, she rose and slipped into the bathroom.
The door clicked shut.
Alone, I stepped to the window once more. Kakek’s words echoed in my head: “Nurture the seeds of your heart.”
Outside, the moon shone through the clouds—half light, half shadow—just like the path I now walked.
And behind me, the silence of my bride filled the room with a question I could not answer.
- Writer
