Constantinople's Cherry

II - 11. Anlat bana

2nd March 1921, Constantinople.

Eda Yıldız walked throught the busy streets of Constantinople, her veil carefully pulled over her head. She had left her classes midway, again, but some things were more important.

She pretended to look at things through the Bazar, slowing her pace and stopping at stalls, her large embroided bag closely held to her shoulder. Her eyes caught the sight of a vase and she stopped infront of the stall. The stall wasn't Armenian, but the vase was, probably stolen during the many raffles at Armenians'.

Its sight pulled the strings of her heart, a familiar memory flashing through her mind. Warm hands craddling hers. Serkan Baltayan.

Her heart wondered where he was, and specially, if he was alright. Eda hadn't received a single letter from him in all these years. She thought she'd wait the end of the war, and she did, so patiently. Three years ago, when the war ended, at twenty of age, Eda waited desperately for a letter to come from Serkan. She thought that, the war over, they could meet again. But she received nothing, sometimes doubting if she had written her address correctly.

At twenty three, her heart still ached for the young boy she had lost her heart to all these years ago. But he had probably forgotten her.

She was a summer fling, just a young woman he passed time with, she probably wasn't worth any more of a thought to Serkan Baltayan's mind than that. He had so many gorgeous French women at hand in Paris, why would he keep a sixteen years old that wasn't even that special in his heart ?

Or, he grew to hate her because she was Turk. And because of what her people did to his. A genocide of over a million of people had came in between their relationship, and that, was probably more of an obstacle to them than this separation would ever be. Ofcourse he would hate her and not ever want to see her face again, it was only normal.

Both these options, him forgetting her as insignifiant or him hating her because she was Turk, hurt her heart a lot. But they were the only she prayed to be true, even as they pierced her heart.

Because if they weren't, then the reason behind Serkan Baltayan not writing to her was something else. Something had happened to him during the war. And that possibility, made it hard for her to breath. She prayed not. She prayed for Serkan Baltayan to have forgotten her existence rather than have had any kind of harm come his way.

She'd live in peace with the thought of him away from her, but safe and sound. She'd trade their love for his safety anyday.

Eda looked away from the stall, focussing on her task, she shouldn't let herself be distracted this way. She stopped at a few meters away, and looked at agrumes, then took a paper bag and selected some lemons. She was examining one, bringing it to her nose to smell it when she felt hands on her shoulders. "Got you!"

She startled, lemons falling from her hands, her attention on alert and sharply turned, ready to defend herself but froze at who she saw. Serkan Baltayan, her lips parted in astonishement.

Eda Yıldız felt electrified by shock at Serkan Baltayan's touch and sight. She almost wondered for a second, if she wasn't hallucinating or had been abducted by someone and got knocked out and was dreaming.

Breath left her and time stilled around her, the buzz of the Bazar fading into oblivion at his sight. In flesh and below her eyes.

She blinked, almost glad for how stunned she was, if she hadn't been, she'd have jumped to his arms and forgotten the risks. She took a breath and coldened her gaze, raising her hand and slapping him, not too hard for it to hurt, but enough to make a loud sound and shock Serkan.