Nazım

Mehmet// a cold empty shell

Alright, so here it is! In this chapter we meet Mehmet [a character of his own kind] and get more about Nazım's forbidden high school history through flashbacks. Ooooh XP

Vote if you liked it in sha Allah, and comment your thoughts too, isA!

M E H M E T
{a cold empty shell of his former being, apparently.}

Nazım's feet were aching from standing so long with only a ten minute break to give him some relief. The sky was dark when he came into work a little after dawn, and it was dark when he came out before the late evening.

With each step he took, it was like a hammer pounded on the bottom of his feet. But again, he had to remind himself, this was for his family. Soon enough, Nazım hoped Nesrin's ankle would heal, but didn't expect her to work.

Nesrin was a very scholarly person, only caring about her academics more so than scoring a job at a young age. Well, young age for her, being fifteen. It was comforting to know how well she was doing in her studies at least, compared to him when he was her age.

He arrived at Teyze Fatma's house that night with the mail in one hand and his bandaged hand on his forehead for wiping off any leftover sweat. Deniz was helping Nesrin set the table, all while bombarding her with questions, along with Teyze and Büyükanne who were making last minute preparations. His uncle was on the phone.

"I've got the mail," he said, holding it up.

"Oh, good. Just come here with that," Teyze Fatma said, sitting down at the table of food. Nesrin, Deniz and Büyükanne joined her and Nazım and his uncle were the last to take a seat.

"Is it from school?" Deniz was the first to ask as he took a plate. The clinking of silverware was the only audible thing until the sound of a special looking envelope was being ripped open. Nazım broke the seal on the paper and unfolded it.

"Whoa."

"What?" Nesrin had asked.

"It's an invitation to this social gathering at the Çelik mansion. I've heard of this!" he explained, and curiosity peaked on Nesrin's face. "I have to cater their party for my job, but I don't know why we were invited."

"Is there gonna be food?" Deniz asked through a mouthful of chicken.

He shrugged in response. "I'm sure if my job is catering, there'll be food."

Then, Teyze Fatma spoke up. "Nazım, you go if you want to. I have no interest in associating with people like them. Their lives are enhanced practically only by wealth." she stabbed at the vegetables and made constant clinking noises against the plate. As if the sudden mention of this party had inspired anger in her.

Nazım then picked up his own fork and began to eat.

"Bismillah."

☏-☏-☏

On the way to the bakery, Nazım passed his school, nestled in between clumps of trees behind a wide open gate. Cars were parked outside as students went through the university's wide doors.

"I understand you love building things. I know you love airplanes, so this school is my gift to you."

He kept a tight grip on her soft, but still boney hands. Veins had stuck up on the back of her hands after one of her coughing fits. His mother was getting more and more sick, that even thorough bed rest wouldn't help.

He felt tears picking at his eyes after realizing that money she spent on his dream university, was for paying for the medications. Guilt surged through him, and a small drop splashed onto her hands. "Don't cry, dear," his mother said warmly. Nazım lowered his head to her hands, touching his forehead to her knuckles.