THE VERDICT

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VERDICT

After leaving my friends, I took a taxi home and immediately started preparing for the trip. Even though I tried to pack light, two suitcases were somehow ready within two hours. Mizgin and I were supposed to meet at the airport.

My phone vibrated in my hand. It was a message from Mizgin.

“I’m at the airport. Come on, hurry.”

I called a taxi without hesitation and headed straight there. As soon as I got out, I scanned the crowd. When I spotted Mizgin a short distance away, I walked toward her. After a brief greeting, we boarded the plane.

“Come on, Hicran, wake up already. You sleep way too much,” Mizgin said.

I forced my eyes open at the sound of her voice.

We had arrived in Mardin.

After getting off the plane together, we stepped outside the airport. Mizgin walked toward a black car, and I followed her. Once inside, she spoke in a serious tone.

“Listen, Hicran. We’re going straight to our place. My father belongs to a tribe, but he doesn’t have much authority. You already know I have four siblings—two older sisters who are married and one older brother who’s single. I’m telling you all this so you don’t feel like a stranger.”

I smiled lightly.

“Alright, sister,” I said, then turned my gaze to the streets of Mardin passing by the window.

After a short drive, the car stopped in front of a small mansion.

“We’re here,” Mizgin said.

I nodded and stepped out of the car. A strange exhaustion weighed heavily on me.

As we passed through a large gate, I found myself in what looked like a courtyard. The mansion seemed small from the outside, but it was enormous inside. As I scanned the courtyard, my eyes widened in horror.

Oh God… what was this?

A young woman and a young man were kneeling on the ground. Standing over them was a man holding a gun.

I stood frozen, unable to breathe, while Mizgin screamed,

“Brother!”

and ran toward them—only to be restrained by two men.

The man holding the gun spoke. His voice carried authority; everyone listened in absolute silence.

“Hasan Agha,” he said coldly, “your son kidnapped my sister. You know the punishment.”

Hasan Agha stood there without a single reaction.

I couldn’t understand it. His son was about to be executed, yet he stood motionless. My mind immediately went to my own parents—if something like this happened to my brother, they would burn the entire city down.

The armed man nodded when Hasan Agha said nothing and was about to pull the trigger.

I don’t know what possessed me—but I ran forward.

“STOP!” I screamed.

Every pair of eyes turned to me. I swallowed hard.

If I started something, I had to finish it. Principle.

I stepped in front of the gun before anyone could react.

“What are you doing?” I shouted. “Are you really going to kill them?”

The man sneered.

“Who do you think you are? This is none of your business.”

He was right.

But I spoke anyway.

“I think what matters right now isn’t who I am, but whether that gun fires.”

Fury flashed across his face.

“Get out of my way,” he snapped, shoving me aside.

I fell hard, twisting my ankle. The pain was sharp and unbearable.

When I lifted my head, the gun was once again pointed at the two youths.

Just as he was about to shoot, an elderly man stood up.

“That’s enough,” he said.

“The tribe has decided. There will be no bloodshed. There will be berdel.”

My heart stopped.

“Hasan Agha,” the man continued,

“prepare yourself. Tomorrow, we will come to ask for your daughter Mizgin for my eldest son, Hashim. Until the wedding, the girl will stay with us. Now everyone, disperse.”

People began to leave. The man who had shoved me shot me a cold glance before walking away.

Mizgin collapsed into her brother’s arms, sobbing. Then she turned to me, her face broken.

“Did you hear that, Hicran? Berdel. I’m being married into the Yılmaz family. Damn it—what about my school?” she cried uncontrollably.

I moved closer to her.

“Don’t be ridiculous. There’s law, there are rights—”

She cut me off.

“I told you back in Istanbul. Law doesn’t work here. Especially not with the Yılmaz family. I’m finished. My life is slipping through my fingers.”

My chest tightened.

How could someone simply take your life away while you stood powerless?

No.

I couldn’t allow this.

I took Mizgin by the arm and led her inside the mansion. Servants showed us her room. I laid her down on the bed—she was still crying. Our suitcases were already there. I didn’t know when they had been brought in.

A knock sounded. A dark-haired woman entered.

“You must be Hicran,” she said softly.

“Yes… and you are?” I asked.

“I’m Hatice. Mizgin’s mother.”

She took a deep breath.

“Talk to her. Convince her. Otherwise, blood will be spilled.”

I stared at her in disbelief.

How could a mother throw her daughter into the fire like this?

She waited for my response. I only nodded. What else could I say?

She left the room abruptly.

I took a shower, changed into my pajamas, and lay beside Mizgin. Sleep came quickly.

“Hanim… wake up. Breakfast is ready.”

I opened my eyes.

Mizgin wasn’t beside me.

I panicked—until I saw her coming out of the bathroom.

I hugged her tightly.

“You woke up early,” I said.

“I didn’t sleep at all,” she replied.

My eyes burned.

I was witnessing the collapse of a woman.

Her blue eyes no longer smiled. Her light brown hair looked as if it had aged overnight.

“Don’t think like this,” I said softly.

“You’re not getting married tomorrow. We’ll find a way. Come on—get ready. You’re taking me around Mardin today.”

She laughed bitterly.

“There is no way, Hicran. It’s over. Maybe not tomorrow, but within two weeks there’ll be a wedding. Then you’ll understand how serious this is.”

I said nothing. My eyes filled with tears as I left the room.

Downstairs, Hasan Agha sat at the head of the table, with his wife Hatice beside him and Mizgin’s brother Berzan next to her.

I couldn’t even look at Berzan. Because of him, his sister’s life was ruined.

As I headed toward the terrace, a voice called out.

“Come, my daughter. Have breakfast.”

Mizgin’s pleading gaze stopped me. I sat beside her.

No one spoke during breakfast.

When it ended, Hasan Agha said,

“You and your friend go shopping today. Prepare for tonight.”

Then he added gently,

“Don’t be angry with me. You know the rules here. The tradition. What choice did I have? Should I let them kill your brother?”

Mizgin broke down and hugged him.

Berzan spoke quietly,

“If you want, I’ll go stand against them right now.”

“No!” Mizgin cried. “They’ll kill you.”

She turned to her father.

“I know the tradition. I’ll marry Hashim Agha.”

And just like that…

another girl’s life was taken by tradition.

Was there truly no place for justice here?