A/N: ^^^Unrelated but he looks gorgeous ehe + I listened to this song whilst writing this chapter, I feel like it kinda suits idk
The group arrived together at the Dagun Omaev House Of Celebrations right on time as per their schedule, and were welcomed warmly by their host. There were a few rounds of hugs and shaking hands which Ayedah did not participate in- though she did address them politely by pressing her palm to her chest in a traditional, contactless greeting. They were invited in immediately, from the cold of the Russian night into the warm theatre to watch a concert arranged just for their entertainment before dinner. It was quite enjoyable and interesting, as they watched lively dancers dancing and beautiful-voiced singers sing, all in a way that was lawful and traditional to their region.
Afterwards they were all interviewed- not something Ayedah had been looking forward to. There were not only journalists and interviewers that had gathered around, but actual cameramen to record the event. Ayedah knew that perhaps the rest were comfortable, as- from what she knew- they have all been interviewed on camera before, plus their jobs were literally to act in front of one. But when she herself was interviewed, she was surprised with how easy it all seemed to go. They all had asked her in turn if she would speak in a chosen language, and had not asked her anything about her personal life, much to her relief; they mostly interviewed her with questions about her job, how much she knew about the Ottoman Empire, how she found writing for the show and if she herself personally enjoyed watching it, and other very much work-related inquiries.
Ayedah managed to answer every question without stumbling or getting stuck, and was very relieved and quite pleased with herself in the end, and even participated in taking a few pictures with whoever wanted them, whether grouped up with the others or just her by herself. She also noticed that everyone else seemed agreeable with what they were asked, and there were no inappropriate or discomforting questions asked- though that seemed to be the case, until Burak Celik went into a flustered little fit at one of the questions he was being asked. Ayedah was taking a photo with Yigit, Ayberk and a young fan at the time and could not hear what the question was, but hoped that it was not anything to do with his ex or his past before becoming an actor; in simpler words, anything overstepping personal boundaries. Thankfully, he along with the rest were all rescued when their host finally began to lead them to the dining room to have their meal, though before they started they still had to participate in another short round of photographing and selfie-taking before they could start.
It was safe to say that the group thoroughly enjoyed their Chechnyan meal, whilst being entertained by a group of boys performing a traditional dance along with Yigit Ucan himself being invited to sing the 'Osman Bey Marşi(Osman Bey's March)' for them. Ayedah had heard Yigit sing a couple of times on screen and off too, and had always been impressed by how well he sang. She grinned and enjoyed watching the men sing along enthusiastically and clap to the beat, and would join in when she felt like it.
Conversations began as food was shared, and Ayedah took to chatting with Yigit, who was sitting closest to her as one of their co-hosts walked over from another table to talk to them. Ayedah took Burak's advice and when the topic fell upon her work and writing, she spoke of her ambitions and goals with her original work. The host was impressed, and encouraged Ayedah to continue writing- it turned out that he was enthusiastic when it came to literature as well, and enjoyed reading as well as writing; though he admitted that he himself was not exactly on the creative side. However, he told her that he knew many big names in the industry and if anyone seemed interested, he would find a way to let her know. Ayedah couldn't help but feel slightly excited at the idea of someone actually being interested in her own work, and was very smiley and enthusiastic for the rest of the conversations she participated in.
Finally, time began to slow down and it was getting late; Ayedah took a quick peek at her watch- they were to leave in another hour. She inhaled sharply, wishing that the sleep she had gotten earlier was enough- though evidently, it wasn't, and she found herself longing to allow her body to sink back into the mattress and hide under the covers. She took another swig of the blue-colored juicy drink they served- which looked oddly like gatorade, though it tasted different; she swallowed half a glass down deeply to clear and dampen her drying throat.
"Already tired, are you?" asked Burak, leaning closer to her. Ayedah had not even noticed that he'd scooted a little closer to her to make conversation, and swapped chairs with Yigit for a while. "How would you know?" she asked haughtily. "You checked your watch," he said casually, making her give him a weird look. "What a Creep," she muttered almost under her breath, making him smirk slightly as she answered back in an undertone; "You know I'm not used to all of this...of course I'd get tired easily." "You're honestly doing a very good job of hiding it though, Yazar Hanim," said Burak earnestly. "I admire your courtesy and manners." "I'm glad I am, if that's true," chuckled Ayedah. "Yet you noticed." "Well, that's because maybe I pay more attention to you than others do," said Burak in such a solemn yet matter-of-factly voice, making Ayedah blink at him, not knowing what to say to it. "Well...erh-"
Burak suddenly yawned himself, and it was Ayedah's turn to laugh. "Look who's the sleepy one now," she whispered teasingly, making him groan. "Oh come on- it was one yawn, one yawn," he hissed, making her grin wider. "It's okay, Sleepy Baby-Celik, you do need your rest after all," she said in a baby-talk voice, chuckling before taking another sip of her drink. "Big boys still need to snuggle up and tuck in to save their energy." It was then Burak's turn to glare at her, making her smile. "Well I-"
"Ayedah Harraz?" asked their main host, and Ayedah hurriedly turned her attention away from Burak. "Yes?" she asked, slightly wary deep down- she had already been interviewed multiple times that evening, and found herself a little exhausted from it. Nevertheless, she was willing to answer whatever questions they asked her. "Do you believe that you are as good a reader as you are a writer, as we have discovered that you are mid-conversation?" he asked. Ayedah was stunned to be asked such a question directly from the host. "Well...I believe I can read," she said with an awkward chuckle. She noticed the lack of confidence in her tone, and quickly changed it; "I mean, yes, I can. I love to read, and to be honest, it is more than a pastime to me- in fact it is something I cannot live without." The host smiled at her answer; "That is a beautiful thing to say about something that is encouraged, especially in our religion," he said wholeheartedly. "So if you are willing- would you read a short poem for us, just as Yigit had sung for us?" Ayedah's blood ran cold for a moment; to read in front of all of them? What if she tripped over her sentences? Forgot how to even speak? What if her voice was too quiet-
"Yes," she answered, surprising herself. "Of course. I would be honored." Mehmet smiled at her as the host thanked her, and passed over a sheet of paper. "This is one of my personal favorites," he said enthusiastically. "By Nazim Hikmet- a Turkish poet, in fact." Ayedah felt slightly intimidated; she was not familiar with this poet, and hoped that it wasn't a long one as she scanned the paper hastily- it wasn't long, just one stanza in fact.
"Alright," said Ayedah, plastering a smile on her face and began to read:
The most beautiful sea hasn't been crossed yet.
The most beautiful child hasn't grown up yet.
The most beautiful days we haven't seen yet.
And the most beautiful words I wanted to tell you,
Haven't been said yet.
Ayedah was surprised with how beautiful she found the poem- and how much it affected her. There was silence as the verses made their effect, and then applause from those who had listened to her. "MashaAllah, thank you, Miss Harraz," said their host, a smile on his face. "Well done, Ayedah," said Mehmet. "Thank you. That was beautifully read. I think I can speak for all of us when I say I hope we will hear you reading again." The others nodded and smiled in agreement, making Ayedah feel bashful as she thanked them in turn quietly. And then she noticed the way Burak Celik looked at her after her little reading- his large blue eyes looked mesmerized, his expression thoughtful; it was difficult to read it, but deep down Ayedah found herself hoping that he was impressed with how she read- though of course, he had heard her read before. He then noticed her looking at him and immediately straightened himself up and fixed his expression, returning the smile she gave him.
There was something about the way Burak looked at her that she couldn't quite put her finger on- she had never seen anyone look at her in that way before. Never, with the same gentleness and care she saw in his eyes when they fell upon her, as if she was a priceless belonging he held dear, or perhaps a precious flower he would do anything to look after, or maybe even the sea that he felt so connected to. But whatever it was, when he looked at her-
Ayedah had never felt so special.
Not from anyone else, not her aunt, not Ozge, not Aarif or anyone from her family...it was only him. No human being ever looked upon her with that much love in their eyes-
No, she told herself firmly, as the word 'love' caused her mind to blur and her stomach to fill with butterflies. Not possible. Not for him. She took a peek at him; he was in deep conversation with Mehmet and Burak Ozcivit, and let her eyes rest upon him for a while before she broke her gaze. You can't, Ayedah, she scolded herself. You can't. You mustn't. He mustn't. You know you're only going to break his heart and ruin his life, probably worse than whoever had come before has.
She took a look at Burak again, who gave her a quick smile before continuing on whatever he was talking about, and she turned away again. But it's a possibility, a part of her was saying. You've never fallen in love; it can't be that bad to try, could it? Besides...with the way he looks at you...there's a chance.
A chance?
I don't have a chance, Ayedah said to herself. Not with someone like him. Never could someone like me be with someone like him. She averted her eyes from him desperately, though she found them wanting to continue to look at him. He has a good heart, said that hopeful, optimistic part of her. As Ozge said...he may accept you for who you are, flaws and all. Ayedah almost scoffed aloud, and just stopped herself in time; My flaws? There are too many, she heard her own voice snap at her in her mind. Too many, too damaged, and too damaging- he's a strong man. A good man. A good person.
And I'm weak.
Broken. Damaged. My heart is nowhere near pure. I cannot love. My imperfections are too many to count, Burak doesn't deserve someone so tainted, someone so lost...he deserves someone whole, not just fragments of a destroyed and disheartened soul...
"Are you okay?" Burak's voice snapped Ayedah out of the debate her mind was having with herself, and she suddenly realized that a tear had fallen onto her cheek. She hastily wiped it away and plastered a smile on her face to ease his worried gaze; "I'm fine, just sleepy," she fibbed with a forced giggle. Burak nodded and gave her a small smile before Mehmet turned to her. "How did you feel about the poem you read, Ayedah?" he asked. "We were all discussing its message- perhaps we could hear it from the one who read it to us." "Well..." Ayedah thought for a while, before giving her answer. "I think that it means we need to cherish what we have, despite its flaws and imperfections," she said slowly. "Because nothing will ever be 'the most beautiful' until we begin to allow ourselves to be happy and satisfied with it instead of looking for what's not there."
"That's a good interpretation," said Burak Ozcivit with an impressed look in his eyes. "I think so too- though my original first thought was that nothing will ever be enough until we've said what we've needed to say to someone we love." "That could be an additional meaning, connected to Miss Harraz's interpretation," said their host. "It is important to say what needs to be said to someone you love, before it is too late perhaps." "It doesn't necessarily have to mean romance," said Yigit thoughtfully. "It could mean family too...parents, perhaps. They deserve to hear beautiful words that need to be said to them from their children before they leave."
Ayedah's heart clenched at Yigit's words, realizing how connected her past with her family was to that poem. She could not remember if she even said any beautiful, kind or sincere words to her mother or father, for in all the years of resentment and anger toward them she doubted that she was capable of it. In fact she had said things she believed a part of her regretted; words that hurt, words that maimed, words that injured them...to the point where her father himself lost his health and even his life due to her actions.
It took her everything to stop herself from digging her nails into her palms and making them bleed again, and instead she found herself looking desperately at Celik- as if expecting him to save her from needing to listen to the conversation by changing the subject, for he alone of the group knew the depth of her pain caused by her family. But all was at loss for her- Burak himself was very involved in the conversation. "It's a real pity, see," said Ozcivit. "I know families separated and torn apart by the abandonment of their children, and parents left broken-hearted and scarred for life. I sincerely hope that I as a father, along with Fehriye, will never experience such a thing with Karan."
"Well honestly, in my opinion, I doubt that children who completely leave their families for any reason at all have a sense of gratefulness or loyalty," said Burak solemnly. "It's a pity more and more of it is seen nowadays in more and more people...I believe families need to stick together to keep this world standing. I can and may sympathize, but I also am very strong against the action of disowning family members, legally or religiously or both." The others agreed with him, though one of the members of their group had gone completely silent.
Ayedah didn't know what to say at Burak's words, never once in her life had she felt so stung, targeted and affected- neither had she ever felt like such a horrible person in her life. So this is Burak's opinion of those who leave their families? she thought, her heart clenching. How low he must really think of me...though it was kind of him to act sympathetic. She swallowed and pushed her phone deep down into her purse, and bit her lip- a little too hard that it bled. She tasted the blood in her mouth and hastily licked her lips and wiped her face. Burak turned to look at her automatically, and he noticed the look on her face before she could wipe it off and replace it with a fake smile and nod of agreement; his own expression fell into that of a look of horror and regret, realizing what he had said and how it affected her. Due to the petrifying stare he was giving her, Ayedah cleared her throat and politely asked to go to the bathroom. "Of course, it's just outside and a little way down the hall," said the host with a smile. "I'll accompany you," said Burak, but Ayedah cut him off. "It's alright," she said firmly. "I can go by myself." She excused herself and immediately left, wiping her forehead as she did so.
Burak sunk into his seat and squeezed his eyes shut, irritated at himself. It was a wonder no one else noticed the tension- for they all continued to talk casually and make conversation. However, Yigit did notice the look on Burak's face, and immediately scooted over to him. "What happened?" he whispered. "Berbat ettim," Burak hissed back, so quiet so only Yigit could hear him. "I screwed up. Spoke too much." "What do you mean?" his tawny-haired friend asked. Burak sighed; "I can't explain much because it's her story to tell, but I said something that hurt her feelings," he said miserably. "I bet she's upset with me now." Yigit sighed too, and patted his friend's arm. "Just apologize to her when you can," he said. "She'll be okay." "When she's pissed at me?" Burak asked skeptically. "Don't assume things like that," said Yigit gently. "She may understand, she may not. But either way just tell her you're sorry."
As Burak and Yigit talked at the dinner table away from the others' attention, Ayedah spent quite a while in the bathroom to catch her breath.
See, this is what you get for believing such false hopes, her mind scolded. You really think he could love you? When you're a family-disowning, ungrateful daughter who left because she lost her patience? He's a filial and dutiful son who values those of his own flesh and blood, so how can you even compare yourself to him? Shame.
Ayedah sucked in hard to keep any tears from falling, mentally slapping herself for even allowing herself to think such things. "What an idiot I am," she muttered. "For even wanting to be loved. I've got to earn it by being better. But I'm just not. That's the way things are, and I have to accept it." She stood herself up and straightened her dress, before wiping off any look of discomfort on her face. She left the bathroom after a few minutes, to see the group gathered outside to take another round of photos with a number of fans and performers that had come to see them off. She joined in with some of them to hide any stiffness, though she excluded herself from the main group photos, where only the men were grouped together. After a quarter of an hour- which seemed like a quarter of an eternity- their transport had arrived and they were to leave.
Ayedah went in a car with Mehmet, Ozcivit and Ayberk, separate from Burak Celik, Yigit Ucan, Zabit Samedov and Ragip Savas. It wasn't long before they reached their hotel again, where Mehmet had a quick discussion with them about the next day's events- they were to leave at noon to visit the Russian Special Forces University, where marked and distinct military units studied and were trained for specialized operations.
Ayedah immediately took off toward the lift after saying "Good-night", but was held back by Burak Celik, who had evidently been looking for an opportunity to speak to her before they settled in for the night.
"Ayedah, I'm sorry," said Burak, and Ayedah shook her head. "It's alright," she said quietly. "You have your own opinions. They're respected." "I said something insensitive, I got lost in the conversation," said Burak. "It's no excuse- please forgive me." "You are forgiven," said Ayedah with a melancholic smile and chuckle. "Don't worry about it- I'm fine. Really. Your opinions won't hurt me." The lie brought a lump to her throat, and she knew that Burak would be able to see through her when she said it. So she patted his arm reassuringly before he could say anything else to hide her true discomfort; then excused herself up the lift and to her room, leaving him in the lobby as he watched her walk away from him...again.
But Burak wasn't going to let that be left standing for long- he wouldn't. He immediately turned to Mehmet for a few words, before he himself left for his room.
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A/N: Well that was eventful
Sorry this is later than usual guys, I've taken sick again haha- nearly slept the whole day yesterday
Hope you guys enjoyed this, don't forget to vote+comment your thoughts.
Love you,
Ayesha <3