I'm awoken to the feel of Ferit stroking my hair. I snuggle further into him as I come to consciousness, not wanting to have to face the day ahead of me, as always. He chuckles, hugging me closer to him. "Good morning, askim."
"Morning." I grumble. I lean up to get my good morning kiss. He obliges, placing a soft peck on my lips, the small touch sending a charge through my body.
There is something new this morning, a deeper intimacy than ever before. I feel like I can see his heart now, and I am so touched that he shared his story with me. The stoic, ever steady Ferit Aslan feels comfortable breaking down in my arms, seeks comfort in me. The woman he loves.
I'll never tire of this.
But, I force myself out of bed, knowing I don't have the luxury to dwaddle today. Opening day is only three weeks away and it is time to make some decisions.
All week I work late into the night, spending my days handling logistics with Emre, and my evenings experimenting with my ever stubborn menu. Ferit brings Bulut by the restaurant so that I can still spend some time with him in this craze and I transform him into my assistant, delighting him.
Ferit and I barely have time together, until one night I return to find him still awake, sitting outside on the patio couch, clutching what looks like a pink shawl. A bottle of whiskey lies on the table in front of him.
The scene reminds me so vividly of his destroyed state after the temporary custody hearing and I nearly run to him. A pang shoots through my heart as I get close enough to see his face and take in his clear distress. "Ferit?" I ask, alerting him to my presence.
I seem to startle him out of his thoughts. He turns to me and I can see the tears in his eyes. "What happened, love?" I ask.
He closes his eyes and lets out a deep breath. I take a seat next to him and lean my head on his shoulder, wrapping my arms around one of his. "This was Zeynep's." He says, his voice wavering as he says her name. "She left it here the last time she was here. It was her favorite shawl, but she wasn't concerned. She just told me she'd pick it up next time she was here."
I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling his pain. That was the cruelty of the sudden death, the abrupt end of all the things you hadn't even realized you took for granted.
"Hakan forged that will, Sejal. We can prove it." He whispers after a long pause. "I thought all this time that she changed her mind. That she didn't trust me to care for Bulut without a wife. But, she did. They trusted only me. It was all a lie."
Tears stream down his face as he allows himself to grieve. My heart seizes as I realize that this whole time he has been feeling guilty for failing her somehow, for doing something to cause her to change her mind. Now that he had confirmation she had never doubted him, it seemed as though the sadness was all that was left. I knew it would be a relief in some ways to be able to mourn without complication. He was free to remember the relationship with his sister fondly, instead of trying to piece together answers he would never get.
I sit next to him and cry my own silent tears with him, not bothering with words. What he needs is someone to feel his pain with him. I kiss him on the cheek and hug him close as he finally lets loose. It kills to realize that Bulut and I are his only real family. His father and sister are gone, and his mother had already abandoned him.
When he calms down, he fills me in on the investigation. I'm taken aback by the lengths Hakan went to in order to take control of Bulut's inheritance. That his first move after finding out about the accident was to plant a forged will seems monstrous.
But the real question is, does Demet know?
Ferit turns to look at me, gratitude in his eyes. "Thank you for being next to me, Sejal." He has this way of looking at me that makes me feel like the most special woman on the planet, as if he is in awe of me. It makes me a little nervous, wondering if there will come a day when he realizes that I'm fallible, that I might not be worthy of his bottomless respect and faith in me.
But at least this part I can do right. I have turned out to be a damned good parent to Bulut and a woman that Ferit can lean on. So, I smile and squeeze his arm, relieved that I can at least comfort the man I love. "Of course, Ferit. Where else would I be?"
--------------
Ferit's lawyers file a petition to contest the will the next morning leaving Ferit and I with nothing to do but wait patiently, an absolutely excruciating way to live. I jump every time my phone makes a sound, conjuring up phantom buzzes every few seconds.
But, the restaurant needs my attention so I focus my nervous energy on being productive and find that releasing the idea of making all the perfect choices has freed me up to making some decent ones. "Good enough" becomes my new refrain, and soon we've purchased most of the décor for the floor. In keeping with the theme, we've mixed traditional elements of European fine dining with Indian textiles and patterns, creating a colorful, warm, and sophisticated atmosphere.
That voice of doubt doesn't disappear, whispering in my ear that the décor looks gaudy and fake, an attempt to appeal to people looking for a bit of culture, instead of a representation of my family and my heart. But, with so little time until opening day, I have no time to entertain that voice. What is done, is done.
Laila visits the restaurant with a little over a week before the soft open, stopping in to see me briefly on her way to meet her advisor. With my new family and my never-ending work, it's been harder to find time to talk properly.
She sits on the kitchen counter, munching on some carrots I pull out for her, updating me on her latest trials with her dissertation. I do my best to follow along while I experiment with a classic lamb dish from my father's side of the family.
I want to ask her what she thinks our parents would say about my restaurant, but it's rare that I allow her to see me struggle so I don't even know how to broach the subject.
I don't even realize her story is over until she changes topics. "It looks nice out there."
I nod noncommittedly, not prepared to pretend like I love it.
"What? You don't think so?" She asks, picking up on my hesitation.
"No, I mean—" I struggle to find the right words, waving my knife around, "—I don't know. I'm not sure about it."
She lets out a shocked laugh. "You? Not sure?"
"I know, I hate it." I grumble, taking out some of my frustration on my onions.
"Well, I think mom would have liked it." She says with a firm nod. I glance at her, wondering whether she knows that that is my exact crisis.
"You think?" I prod, trying to get her to expand.
"Definitely." She says with another nod. "Didn't we have tablecloths like that?" She asks, tilting her head, trying to remember. "And the draperies definitely remind me of fabrics mom loved."
I put my knife down and turn to her. "Laila, I've been just second guessing everything." I confess, not caring anymore whether I will seem weak. "I keep wondering if mom would have been happy with my choices or ashamed of how I'm—I don't know, pretending to be Indian."
It's a conversation we've had many times before. As more years go by without our mother, our ties to her culture seem to fade. Attempts to keep her traditions and values within us can feel shallow, especially as our memory of the rituals diminish. But, this place I want to build is in a lot of ways a monument to her and my father. I want to represent them well.
"It's like we have always said. Do what feels natural and don't overanalyze. Right?" She says in her wise way.
I take a deep breath. "I'm trying." I say, returning back to my cooking. I do feel better that I at least have her approval of my choices. Maybe if I stop thinking about how others will react to my restaurant, I might feel more confident in my decisions. They do reflect my tastes. I just have to trust myself and not try to be somebody different.
I don't have to represent all of India and I can't. I just have to represent myself.
--------------
Every few days there's a new update from Ferit's lawyers: they've found a forgery expert, the woman is nearly done with her report, the judge is going to review the report, and on and on.
Finally, Ferit gets the call: the will has been thrown out.
Hakan and Demet's home is raided as the extent of his fraud becomes evident. After gaining access to the company through Bulut's inheritance, it appears Hakan began conducting all kinds of nefarious business and paying people off to keep it quiet. It is unclear yet how much Demet knows, but Hakan is immediately arrested.
Now that the true character of that man has been revealed, I am even more grateful Ferit and I were able to save Bulut. Even one more day in that house with that greedy, selfish man would have been too many.
Ferit is in such a good mood after the ruling that he decides to throw a party, a very uncharacteristic move for the usually reserved man. I agree, happy to see him so relieved. Not only is there no threat to our custody of Bulut, Hakan will no longer be at his company every day, wielding those shares like a weapon. Of course, he feels like partying.
Ozan and I handle the food, splitting barbequing between us. Bulut is overjoyed to have so many playmates at his house and darts between all of us, incapable of choosing who to settle on. Eventually he targets Yasmin to be his companion and she does her best to keep up with the energetic boy for as long as possible.
I spy Laila and Ferit conspiring off to the side and can only imagine the amount of money being spent in their imaginations on the wedding of the century. I try not to think about it too much.
"So you are free from the game now." Ozan remarks, flipping the kebabs.
"Hm?" My attention is still on my sister and Ferit's bonding. I wonder if she has shown him The Dress.
"With the will gone. The fake marriage isn't necessary anymore, right?" I turn to Ozan, shocked that this thought hadn't already occurred to me. I turn back to Ferit and catch him smiling at me. He winks at me when I meet his eyes, seeming a little too pleased with himself. Laila looks at me as well and rubs her hands together wickedly. It looks like Ferit has granted her every demand.
"Do you want it to be over?" Ozan asks nonchalantly, causing my attention to return.
"Uh." I respond, buying some time. Oh, God. Do I want it to be over? What would that even mean? "I don't know." I say finally, my eyes wide. Ozan eyes me warily, seemingly realizing that his question has caused my thoughts to spiral.
I look down, running my fingers through my hair. I need time to think about this. Ferit hasn't said anything, but he has made it clear our marriage is real for him. So the decision was probably left to me. But, am I really ready to commit to a marriage so soon?
And then there is Bulut. I can't just leave him. But what if things don't work out? Wouldn't it better to take some space to be sure now, while he was still young, while living with us both was still new?
I glance over at Ferit, wishing we could talk about this. I hope my confusion won't hurt him because he's the only one I want to discuss this with. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my anxious thoughts.
I'm always waiting for my life to feel like it's in my control.
Bulut tires of Yasmin and rushes over to me, shaking me out of my thoughts. "Sejal Yenge! Do you want to race?"
I smirk at my sweet baby boy. "You think you're faster than me?" I ask, raising an eyebrow in challenge.
"I bet...I bet I'm twice as fast as you!" He boasts, holding up two fingers.
"Oh really?" I ask, putting my hands on my hips.
"Really!" Bulut shrieks, running away.
"Um, you can't just start whenever you want!" I accuse, running after him. We've drawn the attention of Ferit and Laila who laugh at our antics.
I catch up to Bulut and grab him, pulling him into my arms and laying kisses all over him. He tries to dodge my attack, giggling at my show of affection. "Sejal Yenge, you cheated."
"I cheated!" I am indignant. "You just took off!"
Ferit approaches us to mediate our argument. Bulut reaches for him so I hand him over. "Sejal Yenge and I are racing." Bulut tells his uncle to get him up to speed.
"Ah. And who won?"
"Me!" Bulut declares throwing his hands in the air. I huff in feigned irritation and Ferit laughs at my poor sportsmanship.
"I think it's time to eat, aslan benim. Come, let's go ask Ozan Uncle for some food." Bulut agrees, chattering away about how much faster he is than me.
Laila joins my side as they walk away. She looks too smug for my liking.
"Got him hoodwinked, huh." I accuse, crossing my arms over my chest.
She smirks. "I think it's you that has him hoodwinked." She says with a wink.
I roll my eyes, but flush with pleasure. Ferit turns to glance back at me, smiling as he sees I'm already looking at him. "Maybe." I say to Laila, coyly, earning a laugh from her. "That doesn't mean he's paying for this, though." I tell her sternly. "There are some limits at least."
"Uh huh." She placates me, knowing that my stubbornness is unlikely to hold up much longer. I throw my hands up in the air and march away. Both Bulut and Laila are testing my authority today.
I spot Yasmin sitting on the pool's edge, dipping her feet and decide to join her, walking over to take a seat beside her. It does not escape my attention that she has attended this party alone.
"Where's Ibo?" I ask, pulling my shoes off so I can dip my feet as well.
She splashes her feet a little as I settle in, but doesn't respond. Her silence worries me. "Yasmin?" I prompt gently.
"Girl," she sighs heavily, turning to look at me. Concern pierces through me as I see the tears shimmering in her eyes.
"What happened?" I ask, guilty for how wrapped up I have been in my own happiness.
She throws her head back, swallowing, before looking at me again. "Nothing happened." She shrugs helplessly. "I just don't think I want this."
I reach over to rub her hand, trying to calm her inner turmoil as much as I can. I know she's scared for the certain judgement ahead, but it seems like she's realized it's her only option. "You'll be okay." I assure her. It felt like such a weak attempt to ease her burden, but she smiles at me gratefully.
Suddenly, I am alerted to some commotion on the other side of the lawn. I look up to find that we have a party crasher: Demet.
-----------------------
Ferit has halted her entry and they are engaged in a very tense conversation that I cannot hear from by the pool. I hop up quickly, trying to intervene before Ferit completely loses it.
"Ferit, I didn't know." I can hear her insisting and track her hand as it moves to take his. I try to control the jealousy that flares inside of me at her audacity to touch him. Of course, Ferit immediately pulls his hand away. "Ferit, please." She's begging him, eyes wide and helpless.
"Get out of here Demet." Ferit bites out, not entertaining her regret for a second.
I finally reach them and place a hand on Ferit's back to calm him. I feel some of the tension seep out of him as he realizes I am near. "Ferit? Can we move this inside?"
"No. She's leaving."
Demet turns to me, realizing I might be a softer target. "Please, Sejal. I'm still his aunt. I just want to explain."
She seems sincere to me. I feel like it's only fair to let her defend herself, but I'm not convinced I can make Ferit see it this way. I turn to look at him and I can feel him avoid my gaze. "Let's hear her out." I whisper, rubbing his back. He finally meets my gaze and we have a silent conversation as he transmits his anger and frustration through his eyes.
But, in the end he folds and I am filled with a surge of love for him. I gesture for Demet to walk ahead into the house, Ferit and I following a few feet behind.
"I'm entertaining this because you're asking me to, Sejal. There's nothing she can say to earn my forgiveness." Ferit says into my ear as I steer him into the house. I give him a quick kiss on the cheek to show my gratitude and try to soften him. It seems to have the intended effect.
Demet and I take a seat, but Ferit is too agitated to sit down. He paces the living room, waiting for Demet to begin her explanation.
"Why are you here, Demet?" I ask, prompting her.
She has been watching Ferit with an anguished expression, but turns to me to respond to my question. "Sejal, you have to believe me. I didn't know about any of this."
I nod so that she will continue, but I have no idea what to make of her claim. It seems impossible that she wouldn't know what her husband was doing, but I want to give her the benefit of the doubt.
"When we went to their house after the accident to check for documents like you had suggested Ferit –" he scoffs at the implication that he had assigned them this task, "—Hakan told me would check the safe in the office while I checked their bedroom. I didn't even question it when he said he had found the will in there."
She puts her face in her hands and continues, her voice laced in pain. "I was so happy when I read it. I thought it meant my brother had forgiven me." She looks up to meet Ferit's eyes, looking desperate. Ferit holds her gaze, but doesn't reveal any sympathy.
"Hakan pushed me to agree to contest your custody. I didn't want to; I just wanted to be part of the family again. But, he told me you would never accept us and I would be outside forever, even though Amir had made this gesture."
Tears spill from her eyes as she explains and my heart lurches with sympathy. I have learned my lesson the hard way that I can't hope to understand the full story, but I hate when siblings fight. It's my weak spot. I look up to see how Ferit is reacting, but he continues pacing, revealing nothing.
"That night you took Bulut away, we were fighting about his plans for the company. He was trying to turn the board members against you, as maybe you know. Painting you to be erratic with grief and really anything he thought would stick.
I mean, really, we were fighting all the time. We were in no state to care for Bulut, you were right. But he scared me, Ferit. I was too scared to go against him. Please, believe me, I didn't want any of this to happen."
I feel sick to my gut at the confirmation of her fear. Ferit and I had been so focused on getting Bulut out of there, I had ignored what had felt like a clear threat of domestic abuse. The regret must be clear on my face because Demet turns her plea to me. "He wasn't the man I married, Sejal. He's been so obsessed with revenge." She's crying in earnest now and I can't help myself. I move to comfort her handing her a Kleenex from the coffee table.
"Always the victim, Demet." Ferit says coldly and I am shocked by his cruelty. He looks slightly contrite when he sees the reprimand in my eyes, but isn't swayed enough to apologize.
She closes her eyes in defeat. "It was silly of me to expect forgiveness." She whispers so lost and alone that I am immediately on her side.
"Ferit, what is going on here." I ask angrily, so tired of being the only one out of the loop. I know he would prefer to have this conversation in private, but I'm out of patience.
He considers not answering, but seems to realize how frustrated I am. "Hakan thinks my father framed his and she tried to help him prove it." He says quickly, pointing at Demet, emotionless.
"Ferit, he did. I know you don't want to believe it—"
"He didn't." Ferit interjects, spitting his words out with so much venom I'm at a loss of words for a moment. But his anger no longer scares me off.
"How do you know?" I ask Demet, gently, ignoring the murderous look Ferit sends my way. I know I am likely being disloyal – his least favorite trait – but I am trying to pursue the truth.
She looks up at Ferit as if debating whether to answer me so I squeeze her hand in encouragement. "I found evidence that the transfers Hakan's father was accused of were actually going to an account owned by Mr. Aslan....I went to my father about this, so naïve, thinking once he saw it he would do something, but instead" – a sob escapes her – "instead, he kicked his only daughter out of his family and buried the evidence trail."
"She's lying." Ferit growls.
"I married Hakan after that, both of us sharing a hatred for those families. But after all this time, Sejal, I'm exhausted. I just want to come home." She's sobbing in earnest now and I comfort her.
Ferit holds my gaze, both of us locked in a silent standoff. He's doing his best to intimidate me into taking his side, but I don't back down. I don't work like that. I make my own judgement.
And nothing about her story seems false.
--------------
Demet composes herself and stands to leave, ready to escape the tense environment. I usher her to the door and find our guests trying to appear as if they haven't been watching us with curiosity through the window.
I smile politely and try to slip into the mold of happy hostess. But, my friends know me well enough to know it's time to disperse. Ferit and I maintain the façade while Bulut is still awake, but as soon as we put him to bed, the tension between us bursts.
I decide we should have this fight in the kitchen so I can at least drink some soothing tea. I make a cup for Ferit as well as he lobs the first attack. "So you're going to trust her over me. Again."
I sigh in frustration. "I see you're still throwing that hearing back at me."
"When you start behaving differently, I'll stop mentioning it."
I roll my eyes dramatically, taking a sip of my tea. It's not as soothing as whiskey would be, but sobriety is probably key here. "Ferit, this is who I am. I love you, but if I think you are wrong, I'm going to tell you."
"So a few waterworks and you're convinced?"
I am outraged. "I don't believe you are this cold, Ferit." He turns away from me. "In fact, I know you are not. She was telling the truth. Why would she lie? She's not asking for money or anything! She's just wants to be part of the family."
"She lies. That's all she does." He growls, not looking at me. I run my fingers through my hair, frustrated. But, I decide to try a more gentle strategy. I approach him slowly and reach out to touch his shoulder. He doesn't shy away which I take as a good sign.
Instead, he turns to face me, our faces inches apart. "Are you sure she's lying about your father?" I ask softly, moving my hand from his shoulder to cup his face. He can't resist leaning against my hand, warming my heart. As mad as he is, I can still make him melt at my touch.
His eyes are anguished, tugging at my heart. Nothing is simple with this family. It was only a few days ago that Ferit had shared his grief with me. To learn now that his father might have done something horrible was heartbreaking.
"My father couldn't be capable of framing another man." He breathes, as if trying to convince himself. I don't contradict him, moving my arms around his neck to stroke his hair. I wait for him to continue, knowing that he will.
He sighs, closing his eyes. "But, he had a lot of debt." I wait patiently for him to say more, doing my best to soothe him with my touch.
"Gambling debt. He had a lot of gambling debt. So, I can see how maybe...maybe he could have done this. But, Sejal. He's my father. He was a good man." A tear escapes his eye and I wipe it away.
"It's okay, Ferit. We don't have to deal with that right now." I say gently.
He pulls me closer, burying his head in my neck. We stay like that for a while until he recomposes himself. He takes a step back and takes a deep breath. "You want me to forgive Demet."
I regard him carefully, trying to choose my words wisely. "She's made questionable choices, you're right." He scoffs at my use of "questionable," but doesn't interrupt. "But, she's here now. She wants to make it right. She's Bulut's family, Ferit. I think she deserves the chance to try."
He narrows his eyes at me, but doesn't react as emotionally as before. "I'll think about it." He promises softly. I accept his response, knowing I can only push him so far in one conversation. I trust that he will actually give the idea the consideration it deserves.
I move back around the counter to pick up my forgotten tea. Leaning against the counter, I take a sip. Ferit joins me on the other side of the counter, picking up his own glass. "I keep waiting for you to run away." He says lightly, revealing what seems to be like a real fear under the thin guise of a joke.
I give him a tight smile. "I wouldn't make it very far. Bulut is twice as fast as me." I say, holding two fingers up, just as Bulut had.
He nods, a half smile on his face that doesn't quite reach his eyes. He's still more serious than I had expected after my hilarious joke. "Bulut's cuteness has really worked out in my favor, then."
"Come on, Ferit. You know I'm not going anywhere." I say, reaching for his hands across the counter. He looks up at me his expression so soft and vulnerable.
"I've been waiting for you to ask me whether we have to stay married." He confesses, quiet.
Suddenly his insecurity makes more sense. "It actually hadn't occurred to me until Ozan pointed it out today."
It seems to make him happy that my first thought was not to leave. But he still seems nervous. "And now that it has?" He holds my gaze, doing his best not to push me, but unable to hide the hope in his eyes.
"I don't know." I admit, hating that my honesty causes his face to fall. I grip his hands tighter. "I just feel like we need to be sure. I mean there's Bulut to consider." This isn't the answer he wants, but we have to consider this rationally.
"Okay." He brings my hands up to his lips to kiss them, letting me know he's not angry. "Tomorrow. Let's talk." I nod in agreement.
----------------
The next evening, after Bulut has been put to bed, Ferit and I have a picnic date in his yard. While Ferit does his best to convince the kid to fall asleep, I cook us a simple meal – his favorite pasta – and set up the yard.
The restaurant's soft opening is at the end of the week, but I feel more confident now that things are going to go smoothly. Laila gave me the support I needed to trust myself and I am finally convinced I have the perfect menu. There is, of course, still much more to do and Emre was not happy to find that I was leaving early tonight, but Emre is never happy. Family is more important. And I'm the boss.
I'm sitting outside on the blanket, opening the bottle of wine when Ferit appears. "Four stories, Sejal." He groans, settling down. I smile, pouring him a glass. I suppose Bulut was extra demanding today.
"Oh, you made my pasta." He looks at me like an excited child, making me chuckle at his expression. He leans over to kiss me, lingering over my lips. "Thank you." He whispers. It pleases me to see him so grateful for this simple gesture.
I pour a glass for myself and we do a silent toast, holding eye contact a moment too long. I clear my throat and scoot back a little, creating some space. If we are going to have a serious conversation, some distance is probably necessary.
He looks amused at my retreat, but doesn't comment on it. He twirls his fork in his pasta, expertly maneuvering the spaghetti into this mouth. "Mmm." He moans after swallowing the first bite. "Can you blame me for wanting to stay married to you?" He asks, gesturing to his food.
I roll my eyes, but fail to hide my smile. "You'll have to purchase your next meal from me." I say haughtily to his great amusement.
He chuckles and reaches for some garlic bread. "So." He says, getting more serious. "Let's address your concerns."
"Are they really only my concerns? You are fully on board?" I'm incredulous, but he looks at me steadily, his eyes filled with so much love.
"Yes." He says simply, not bothering to expand.
I hate that he is always so sure and I am always struggling to understand my emotions. My inexperience with relationships has left me feeling as if I am constantly behind. And I hate doing things I'm not good at.
But, I did feel as though I had legitimate concerns, whether he was willing to admit that or not. He was so used to getting what he wanted it was as if he thought he could will his desired reality into existence.
I start with the obvious issue. "Okay, first. We have only been together for two weeks."
He has clearly anticipated this line of questioning. "You know as well as I do that we have had feelings for each other for much longer and have been through a lifetime of problems together. We could have dated for years under normal circumstances and not known each other as well as we do now."
I can't argue with him. I've always said that grief bonds people in ways that nothing else can. We have both revealed so many sides of ourselves to each other in so little time, to argue that our relationship has been too short is rather ludicrous.
Still. The test of time is not one that can be replicated by other storms. "It's still early though, Ferit. We're still enamored with each other."
"That's the risk that any couple takes, Sejal. We are going to be no more prepared months from now than we are in this moment."
I take a sip, considering his argument. But, what did that risk look like when there was a child involved?
"Bulut heightens that risk for me, Ferit. We can't afford to get this wrong. He's already lost a family." I whisper, anxious at even the thought of disappointing him and by extension, Zeynep.
"Hey." He says softly, pushing my jaw up so I will meet his eyes. "Okay, let's say we get divorced in the future. Worst case scenario. You and I are still going to be committed co-parents to him, won't we? I know you won't abandon him, even if you leave me. No matter what happens between us, we won't ever let it impact him."
"I know." I reach out to scratch his beard and I earn a small smile at my gesture. He takes hold of my palm and kisses it before bringing it down to our side. I watch as he intertwines his fingers with mine.
His touch makes me feel stronger, more willing to share my fears. "It's just so fast Ferit." I say, looking into his beautiful eyes. "Once this restaurant opens, I'm going to be working late nights. We'll barely get time for ourselves between caring for Bulut. I'm not – I don't know how to be this person...a wife, a mother. You want different things out of life than I do. Don't you think—"
"Sejal," he begins slowly, interrupting my anxiety fueled speech. "Can we just leave everything else aside for a moment?"
I nod warily.
He squeezes my hand. "I want you to tell me what you feel. Do you want to break up?"
"No." I respond quickly. He smiles at my lack of hesitation.
"Do you want to move out?"
I take a few more seconds to think about this one, but it's still an easy answer. "No, but Ferit –"
"Then, right now, what you want is to stay married to me?"
It's easy when he frames it like this. This is the way I've always made my decisions: does it work right now? I'm afraid I'm about to have my own argument used against me. "Yes."
"Sejal, didn't you tell me that there's no use trying to plan for the future since it's completely unpredictable anyway?"
"I cannot believe I fell into this trap."
"Didn't you?" He's pretty pleased with himself, thinking he's found the airtight argument. And in a sense he has – its my argument. I'm not likely to argue with myself; I'm usually right.
"Ferit..." I'm slightly exasperated. The problems I mentioned still feel like legitimate problems to me.
He takes hold of my hands, realizing I need more assurance. "Everything you're saying is something I think we can work through. If you don't want more kids, we won't have more kids. If you need space from us every so often, take it. We can manage our busy schedules, together. You and Bulut – that's all I need. Everything else can be solved."
I want to believe him. It would be so easy to believe him. He's right that nobody can guarantee a marriage, that any normal relationship would require adapting to and working through each person's flaws. The added pressure I feel to Zeynep and Bulut is perhaps valid, but ultimately unfair to myself. All I can do is my best.
"I told you once that I was more afraid to lose you than I was to need you. Maybe that's not true for you; maybe you could leave here and live a perfectly happy life, seeing Bulut occasionally and running your restaurant. But for me, making this work is worth the fight. Is it worth it for you?"
He's clarified the choice in the way that I needed. Of course, he is worth the fight. I think both of us could part ways and find ways to be happy on our own. But, that's not what I want.
"Okay." I say, deciding to stop overthinking. If I was in this, I was in this. I didn't like to do things halfway.
"Okay?" He's face is cracking into his full smile, but I can tell he's trying to hold back in case he somehow misinterpreted my agreement.
I nod, smiling wide and am rewarded with my favorite, full-faced smile. He tackles me onto the ground in his happiness and I laugh up at him, caged in between his arms. He leans down to kiss me, at first softly and then with intense need. I arch my back, trying to get closer, desperate for his touch. He pulls himself away too soon, denying me what I want. I groan at the loss, trying to drag him back down, but he holds himself firm.
"To be clear, you're agreeing to be my wife. My real wife."
"What's not clear about this." I ask, pointing between our lips.
He chuckles, leaning down to bump my nose with his. "Can you just say the words please."
"You would think you would enjoy the actions more than the words." He huffs at my continued stalling. I can't help but be amused by his frustration. "Yes, I will be your real...wife."
He grins widely at how clearly strange I find saying the word "wife."
"I'm going to call you my wife at every opportunity." He declares joyfully. I roll my eyes at his excitement, but my heart sings. "And myself your husband." I resist the urge to face palm. "I know you don't care about any of this, but I am very happy I don't have to show restraint anymore." He leans his forehead on mine and breathes me in, eventually planting another quick kiss on my lips.
"It's pushing it to ask you to have a real wedding, right."
"Ferit, we had a real wedding. I had haldi all over me, it's done." He laughs and kisses me again. I suppose I win that battle which is a relief. I would have done it again if he really wanted, but what a waste of money and time if he had.
"Fine, then instead, we pay for Laila's wedding."
I laugh at his audacity. "That's what you want?"
"Letting me take care of you and your sister is all I want."
I'm caught off guard by his sweetness as I often am. Tears spring to my eyes. I'm so touched that he understands how much Laila is a part of me. Just as Yasmin and Ozan have adopted Laila as their own, Ferit seems to want that as well. I'm trapped in his gaze, so tender, vulnerable, and loving. He leans his forehead on mine. "You take care of Bulut and I. It's only fair."
A small smile escapes. I never thought letting someone be next to me would feel like this. Like a burden lifting off of my shoulders instead of a heavier one being placed on them.
"Fine. Let's give the spoiled brat what she wants."
Ferit laughs, knowing how much it's going to hurt me to see this much money wasted on a wedding. He lays himself down next to me and begins playing with my hair. "See? We are working through problems already."
I roll my eyes, but lift my head onto his chest. "I guess." I say disgruntled, to his amusement. I close my eyes enjoying the peace that comes with being close to him. I realize I am slipping in and out of sleep, the days of working too many hours catching up to me, but I am too comfortable to change positions.
Eventually, Ferit tries to wake me so that we can go to bed, but I protest and cling tighter to him, refusing to wake up. I've seen Bulut use this tactic enough to know what's coming next. Sure enough, Ferit lets out an amused huff and reaches over to pick me up, carrying me upstairs.
I place a kiss to his neck in gratitude and then snuggle into his chest. I peek discretely at his face to find him exasperated at my obvious show of laziness, but his expression is so warm that I am certain he is secretly loving it.
He had said he wanted to take care of me.
He places me gently on my side of the bed and dodges my attempts to keep him next to me with a laugh as he gets ready for bed. When he finally returns, I scoot closer to him and bury myself back into his arms, not caring that I have become a clingy girlfriend. He smells too good to deny myself this.
"I love you, karim." He says with a kiss as he gathers me into his arms. I hum in agreement and fall promptly asleep.