Chapter Twenty-Two: A Sister’s Gentle Intervention
Fatma Hatun noticed it the way women often do not through declarations, but through absence. Seljuk lingered longer on the palace balcony at dusk. He trained harder in the courtyard, his sword striking wood with a force that felt less like discipline and more like restraint. He slept lighter, Spoke less,and thought more. Nothing dramatic. Just… weight. One evening after prayer, as the palace quieted and the last servants retreated to their quarters, Fatma found him standing beneath the open sky. The wind moved gently through the banners above them, brushing against the stone as if trying to soften it. She did not stand beside him. She sat in front of him on the low bench, forcing him to look at her. “You are carrying something,” she said softly. Seljuk did not deny it. “I waited
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