Veiled Desires of the Crown

Chapter Seventeen

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Also this chapter is dedicated to @badhguyx. Thank you so for the lovely note you left on my previous chapter. Being a new writer, it really made my day <3

"I have always liked quiet people:

You never know if they're dancing in a daydream

Or if they're carrying the weight of the world."

-John Green

I observed the palace rejoicing in the union of the sultan and his malika. I couldn't help but wonder if they knew I didn't want this. I pondered if they could see the heavy weight of hollowness my eyes carried. If they could perceive or feel it, it seemed inconsequential to them. Seated detached on the elevated stage, women approached me, offering respect and addressing me as their Malika. I didn't force a smile; my lips simply wouldn't stretch. I cared little about pleasing them, and it seemed my silence was taken as a blessing.

Some younger girls, vivid with disdain and hostility, didn't bother concealing their feelings. I almost felt like laughing at their faces, secretly wishing one of them could assume my place. Some even whispered that I became the sultan's bride due to my father's influence on the Sultan, insinuating manipulation.

"It's such a long night; I feel exhausted. Sayidi, I know you must be tired too. Don't worry; it's going to end soon, and then you will be taken to the Sultan's chamber." One of the girls, whose name I didn't know, spoke to me as others laughed shyly.

It's humorous how I think I was the only one who found the night short and prayed for it to prolong, to delay entering the hell that awaited me. I seriously didn't know if I could bear my husband. I didn't know if I could suppress my bitter feelings toward this marriage. It was still shocking to me that the Sultan had chosen me as his wife. I didn't know what he had seen in me or when he even saw me to decide to make me his wife.

I could see Baba approaching the stage, making his way toward me. "Noor, habibti, you have made me so happy. You look ethereal like always. I know your mother must have been so proud seeing you sitting here as the Sultan's bride, if she was here." This sudden breach of the topic surprised me a little. Baba and I had never really talked about my mother. It was always difficult for him to talk about her. The little I had heard about my mother was from my grandmother.

For some reason, my emotionless state suddenly felt heavier as I saw tears in Baba's eyes. I couldn't help but cry again when he hugged me. I cried for many unknown reasons—for my mother, for Baba, for Burhan. I cried for all the good times I had spent till now, cried for my future with the Sultan. Baba didn't stop me; he just kept patting my back as I cried, holding him tight. After the tears stopped flowing, he gently cleared my face and kissed my head.

How could I ever hate him just for getting me married? Baba was my pride. He had played the role of a father as well as a mother in my life. He had always fulfilled each and every wish of mine. Even though he didn't want me to go to the city, he still sent me when I insisted. But that didn't stop him from fulfilling his duties as a father toward me. He always visited the city to see me and grandmother whenever he could. I suddenly felt so ashamed for showing him the cold shoulder.