THE VERDICT

3...

​"Ugh, Hicran! Hurry up already! Who are you getting all dolled up for?"

​I turned toward Mizgin at the sound of her voice. I had to support my friend during this difficult time, and I couldn't do that by just moping around. As usual, I tried to deflect the tension with a joke.

​"Be quiet, girl! This is my first time in Mardin," I said, a playful grin spreading across my face. "And who knows? Maybe I’ll actually find myself a tribal lord—an Agha—while I’m at it." I turned back to my reflection, smoothing out my white chiffon blouse tucked into dark, tight jeans and checking my freshly blown-out hair.

​"Good grief... You and your obsession with tribal lords. Can't you see the mess I'm in? I’m in this situation exactly because of that 'tradition' you love so much. Fine then, if you want one so bad, let's set you up with Hashim Agha’s younger brother, Ashir. We can be sisters-in-law," she said, her brow furrowed.

​"Ashir Agha? Who's that?" I asked naively.

​"You know, the one who held a gun to my brothers' heads. Yeah, him."

​My expression soured instantly. "Oh, no thanks. Keep that savage away from me."

​Mizgin let out a mocking laugh. "What kind of Agha were you expecting, Miss Hicran? Someone soft and pampered? Stop talking nonsense, seriously."

​Trying to shift the heavy mood, I interjected, "Anyway, enough about me. Tell me, Mizgin... how are you really feeling?"

​"Empty," she whispered, shaking her head. "Whatever. It doesn't matter. They're coming to ask for my hand tonight. If you’re done preening, let’s go, Hicran Miray Hanımağa."

​I laughed at the nickname and followed her out.

​Shadows of the Past

​We lost track of time wandering through the narrow streets of Mardin. After doing some shopping, we sat down at a small cafe.

​"So, tell me about these Yilmaz families," I said.

​Mizgin took a sip of her coffee. "They’re one of the major tribes here. The other big one is the Aksoy family. Remember that story I told you back in Istanbul?"

​I nodded. She was talking about that 25-30 year old blood feud.

​"Exactly. They’re still bitter enemies, but one thing is for sure: when the council of tribes gathers, they put their grudges aside to find a common path."

​Good Lord, I thought. I was getting curious. Who were these Aksoys?

​"Oh, look at the time! We need to get back. We have to get ready for tonight."

​We hurried back and reached the mansion half an hour later. We rushed to our room to change. While Mizgin put on a long, traditional dress, I opted for a black dress that hit just above the knee, paired with black stilettos.

​"Hicran, take that off and put on some pants. That dress won't work here; everyone will give you dirty looks," Mizgin warned.

​I turned to her defiantly. "No one is going to look at me sideways. I’m not even from here. I’m barely Turkish—I grew up abroad, for heaven's sake." Mizgin just shook her head and walked out. I followed right behind her.

​The Ceremony

​The house was already packed when I went downstairs. Mizgin headed straight to the kitchen to prepare the coffee. She set two trays: one for coffee, one for water. I stopped her just as she was leaving.

​"Wait, where are you going?"

​"Where do you think, Hicran? To serve the coffee. Grab the water and follow me."

​"Oh, really? You're actually serving coffee? From here, it looked like you were about to start a folk dance..." I rolled my eyes. "Seriously though, let’s put some salt in the coffee. It’s tradition!"

​"Hicran, stop acting like my grandmother. It’s not like I’m marrying him by choice."

​Before I could say a word, she hurried out of the kitchen. I had no choice but to follow with the tray of water. The room was crowded. There were two women, an elderly man, two younger men, and him—the man who had held Mizgin’s brother at gunpoint: Ashir Agha. Next to him was presumably Hashim. They all stared at me.

​I felt Ashir’s gaze scanning me from head to toe. Frowning, I began distributing the water, making sure not to look him in the eye when I reached him.

​"Who is this girl, Hasan Agha?" the elderly man asked.

​I looked up and realized he was staring at me. For some reason, I felt a flush of embarrassment.

​"That’s Hicran Miray. She’s Mizgin’s friend from school in Istanbul. She was curious about our lands, so she came to visit. We haven't had a chance to show her around yet."

​The old man nodded. "Well, since she is a guest, let Mizgin, Ashir, and Hashim take her out tomorrow. Let them show her Mardin."

​I didn't know what to say, but Hasan Agha nodded in agreement. I stayed quiet; maybe this trip would help Mizgin and Hashim get closer. Who knew?

​Everything happened in a blur after that. They asked for her hand, the rings were brought out, and they were about to cut the ribbon. The elderly man—Hamdi Agha, the grandfather of the brothers—offered his blessings and snipped the silk. Hands were kissed, jewelry was gifted.

​I couldn't stand the sight any longer and bolted to the kitchen. Damn it. My best friend was being forced into a marriage, and I was standing there doing nothing. And I’m supposed to be a law student, right?

​Oh, tradition... you think you've tied my hands. But just you wait. I haven't played my final card yet. As sure as my name is Hicran Miray, I will defeat this system. And I'll make sure you and all of Mardin see it happen.