The Mafia's Bride

Chapter 24

Hayat’s POV

The sunlight peeked through the light curtains, painting soft patterns on the carpeted floor. I blinked my eyes open slowly, realizing I was still curled into the side of the bed where Hazar had sat last night. His scent lingered in the sheets — fresh coffee and sandalwood.

He was already gone.

I stretched lazily, a smile pulling at my lips. Something had shifted between us. I felt it. It wasn’t just the words or the way he’d bandaged my hand… it was the silence that followed — comfortable, not awkward.

As I scrolled through my phone, my ringtone buzzed. Dua.

“Finally!” she said as soon as I answered. “I’ve been waiting for your update like it’s breaking news.”

I laughed. “Well, it kinda is.”

“And?! Don’t leave me hanging.”

I rolled to my side, pulling the blanket with me. “He stayed up with me last night. We talked. Real talk. Not just small polite conversations. He told me about his grandfather… I told him about my parents. And… I think He likes me, Dua.”

There was a pause, and then a loud gasp. “YOU WHAT!?”

“Lower your voice! Someone might hear,” I whispered.

“Oh please,” she teased. “He probably fell first.”

I blushed hard.

“Well… today’s been different. He asked me to join everyone downstairs. His cousin wives invited me to help with brunch, and I think they actually like me.”

“Of course they do, you’re Hayat,” she said, as if it were obvious. “Also, can we talk about how he defended you in front of the entire family last night?”

“That,” I said, smiling to myself, “felt… unreal.”

Before I could say more, a knock came on the door.

“Hayat?” Hazar’s voice called gently. “Everyone’s waiting in the garden.”

“Coming!” I replied quickly and hung up the phone.

_________

The backyard was alive with laughter.

Cousins sprawled across picnic blankets, coffee cups and half-eaten pastries scattered between them. The uncles lounged in cushioned chairs, bickering about who cheated in the last card game. The women had gathered under the shade of the fig tree, their chatter blending with the clinking of teacups and children’s squeals.

For once, no one was in a hurry. No one was tense. No shadows of business or burdens. Just peace.

The sun poured honey across the yard, and in that glow, everything felt softer.

Someone — probably Leyla — suggested a game of dumb charades, and it didn’t take long for the cousins to rally together and split into teams.

I didn’t even realize when Hazar stood behind me, until I felt the subtle brush of his arm as he crossed it over mine.

“We’re on the same team,” he murmured, leaning down just a little too close to my ear.

I tilted my head back to look at him, lifting an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

He smirked. “You better not make me lose, Mrs. Mafia.”

I smirked back. “Only if you behave, Mr. Mafia.”

The round started.

We stood together, trying to guess Elif’s over-the-top actions — which honestly looked more like interpretive dance than anything logical. Hazar and I exchanged one glance and somehow — telepathically — knew the answer.