The Wedding Night...

Like a first date...

Dilan gasped and turned to her husband. "Baran!" Then, her eyes returned to explore the place unfolding with each step she took. She could not believe something like this was under a house. The further down they went, the colder it got. Although illuminated, there were not enough lights to take in the beautiful structure before her. "This is a cistern like the one in Istanbul. It is smaller in size but taller. Its beauty outshines the Basilic Cistern, in my opinion." Dilan could not agree more with Baran's comment. She felt she was suddenly in a fantasy book. Columns around them seemed infinite—the ceiling adorned with arches of different dimensions. Like everything in the Mardin province, the yellow light made the atmosphere feel special. Once down, Dilan walked to the furthest wall to take in the view. Baran continued. "It was used during the Bezantym period to secure the water supply for soldiers and people living in Dara—approximately forty thousand souls at the time. Like many things here, over the years, it was forgotten until relatively recently when it was excavated. There are several cisterns of various proportions around Dara, but this is my favorite." Dilan was taking in everything she saw and heard. "I don't need to see the rest to know why this would be your favorite. It is so beautiful." Baran hugged her from behind. She rested her head on his shoulder. His arms around her felt like the columns of the cistern. Warm, despite the cold exterior. Solid, but delicate. Vital for life, a shelter. Everything that Baran was for her. Dilan got lost in thought and didn't know how long it had been when Baran asked. "Should we go, Ms. Dilan?" She could have stayed longer with no complaints. She felt at peace there, but she agreed, and they both began the journey up the stairs to the surface.

Dilan's eyes struggled to adapt to the light when they reached ground level. Baran pulled at her hand and stated. "There is somewhere else I want us to visit." They went to the car and took off. It was a couple of minutes-long ride. Dilan laughed internally cause it would have taken less time to walk there. Busses of tourists were on both sides of the streets, making moving and parking an issue; somehow, Baran found a spot, and they exited the car. Dilan didn't know where exactly Baran was taking her. They walked by an ordinary street with restaurants and stores of local artisans. They walked a little longer when they stopped in front of a gate—the appearance more like a construction site. Examining further, Dilan saw a large mountain of sand color, with door-like circles carved into the rock, on various levels. "Was this a city?" She inquired. Baran nodded. "It was a fortress city called Anastasiopolis. Its location protected it from Persian invaders during the war. Dilan's eyes wandered to the very end of the rock formation. There was something there. She walked in that direction. "That is the necropolis. Various types of tombs can be found here. People were buried in the rock because they believed they would be reborn if they did." Her curiosity awakened. As if reading her thoughts, he asked. "Do you want to go inside?" She did, but there was a long line. He took her hand. "Don't worry. The line moves fast, and it is a reduced space. People can't linger inside for long." They stood in the line. Baran moved her in front of him in a protective gesture. His expression became severe and predatorial. He ensured no one could be close enough to touch her. At one point, she thought he would fight a man going in the opposite direction without regard for the people around him. The man almost made a little boy fall. Baran's glare made him look down and continue with caution.

"Baran!" Dilan's voice caught his attention. "Someone needs to remind him of manners. There is something called respecting other's personal spaces." Dilan rolled her eyes at him. "Do that again, Ms. Dilan, and there will be consequences." She shrugged. "Do what? This?" She proceeded to roll her eyes again at him. She dared to challenge him. 'Good!' He thought. "We are surrounded by people, Mr. Baran. There is nothing you can do about it. So deal with it." She rolled her eyes at him a third time and turned her back to him. His wife was rebelling, and he could not allow that. He got close to her and, under the pretext of fixing her hair, made sure the tip of his finger brushed her skin with every attempt to collect her hair. After looking around and realizing no one was paying attention to them. He got closer, letting his breathing fall on her skin. He watched as goosebumps appeared, traveling the length of her body. "What are you doing?" Dilan asked with a breathing voice. He smirked. He had succeeded, but he didn't stop. He moved to her side and placed his hand on her back. Her hair provided cover from prying eyes. He began to caress her back with his fingers up and down, intensifying the waves of shivers spreading in her body. He whispered in her ear. "Are you cold, Ms. Dilan? Or is it something else?" Her lips parted, but no words came of her. She closed her eyes, and he enjoyed the moment. Watching Dilan lose her will under his touch was the most exhilarating experience for Baran. He knew that his proximity affected her even before they knew about their feelings for each other. But that effect was physical. And although he did want her body, he wanted to be in her heart even more.