Threads of love

The cost of connection

Chapter three

The next morning, the sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow on my room. I awoke with a sense of unease, the weight of my thoughts from the night before pressing heavily on my chest. I could still hear Abdullah's words echoing in my mind, and they clung to me like a persistent shadow.

"I want you to be my wife."

I hurriedly got dressed, choosing a soft, cream-coloured tunic that made me feel comfortable and light. I tied my hijab securely, letting the fabric frame my face softly, and applied a touch of mascara to brighten my eyes. Looking in the mirror, I reminded myself that no matter how conflicted I felt, I had to face the day with strength.

After breakfast, I decided to seek solace in the familiar streets of our neighbourhood. I needed to clear my mind and perhaps find some clarity in the gentle rhythm of my daily life. I slipped my quran into a lightweight bag, with the intention to read.

"I'm just going to sit by the sea and read" i muttered

Ibrahim glared at me, I glared back at him and left the house quickly.

I stepped outside, the crisp morning air filling my lungs, and began walking toward the park where I often went to think. As I wandered, the chatter of children playing and the chirping of birds created a soothing backdrop. I settled onto a bench beneath a sprawling tree, its branches swaying gently in the breeze. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath, allowing myself a moment of peace. But soon enough, my thoughts returned to Abdullah. The way his eyes sparkled when he smiled at me, the kindness in his voice—it was a stark contrast to the weight of expectation that came with my relationship with Farid. Was I being foolish for even considering these feelings?

I wandered through the bustling streets of the market, the familiar sights and sounds enveloping me in a comforting embrace. The smell of spices filled the air, mingling with the laughter and chatter of vendors calling out to potential customers. My thoughts were still clouded with uncertainty about my feelings for Abdullah, and I found myself lost in contemplation as I walked.

How had I ended up here?

I hadn't planned to come this way; I was just looking for a moment of clarity. Yet somehow, my feet had led me directly to Abdullah's stall.

I was about to turn away when I heard a familiar voice call out,

"Aalya.."

I turned around to see Abdullah standing there, a friendly smile on his face, gesturing for me to come back.

I felt a flutter of anticipation in my chest as I walked back toward his stall.

"I'm sorry, I was going on a walk. I always get lost trying to get to the sea," I explained, trying to sound casual, though my heart raced at the thought of being near him again.

He smiled warmly and held up a teapot.

"Afghan tea, try some." Carefully, he poured me a cup of the steaming beverage into a dainty glass tea cup, leaving it on the counter making sure our hands didn't touch.

As I took a sip, the strong scent of cardamom and cinnamon wafted up to me, wrapping me in a fragrant embrace. I couldn't help but smile at him, and he returned the gesture, his eyes lighting up.

"It's my mother's recipe," he said quietly, a hint of pride in his voice.

"It's so nice! Is your mother here with you... in Turkey?" I asked, genuinely curious.

His facial expression changed slightly, a flicker of something deeper crossing his features.

"Uh, yeah, she's here with me," he replied, quickly turning back to prep his ingredients.