MINE

Chapter 1

Assalamu Alaikum. Hey guys! This is my first book on wattpad. I need your love and support on this! I can't do it without you, ya know? I hope you'll enjoy the book.

Here are some words that I'll be using in the book!

Gelin (bride)
Kız (girl)
Anne (mom)
Evet (yes)
Hayır (no)
Abla (sister)
Ağabey (elder brother)
Bacım (sister)
Canım (my dear)
Nolur/ lütfen (please)
Kuzum (my little lamb or my dear)
Aşkım (my love)
Damat (groom)
Sağol (thanks)
Teşekkürler (thank you)
Güzel (beautiful)

Thankyouu 💕💕

I was sitting by the window, sunlight filtering through the curtains, casting soft shadows across my room. My favorite spot. Wrapped in the warm cocoon of my blanket, I was lost in the pages of a novel, the words carrying me far away from the reality of my life. Every so often, I'd glance up at the world outside—a world that seemed so far removed from the complexities of my own.

But then, my peace was shattered.

"Leyla! Anne is calling you!" Norah, my pesky younger sister, shouted through the door, her voice high-pitched and full of urgency.

I groaned, rolling my eyes. Peace, disrupted.

"I'm coming!" I called back, but I could feel the irritation rising within me. Why did they always call me at the most inconvenient moments? I had been reading a particularly thrilling part of the book, and now it was lost to me.

With a dramatic sigh, I pushed the covers off and swung my legs out of bed. I grabbed my hijab from the ottoman and trudged downstairs, dreading the interruption. If there was one thing I hated more than being disturbed during my personal time, it was my mother's relentless questions.

"Mammy, gani," I greeted as I entered the living room, sitting next to her on the two-seater couch.

Her eyes, dark with concern and irritation, looked me over, shaking her head slowly. "Yanzu, Ke Layla, har 3 kina bacci?" she asked, her Hausa a little rough around the edges but clear enough for me to understand. "Are you still sleeping at 3 in the afternoon?"

I stiffened, my guilt crawling up my spine like an unwelcome guest. She was disappointed, and I hated that feeling more than anything.

I mumbled something incoherent, my eyes darting to the floor, avoiding her gaze. I knew she'd already scolded me countless times for my late nights and lazy mornings. But at 19, who was really ready to be tied down by the responsibilities of adulthood?

Norah, ever the cheerful little devil, popped into the room with a plate in her hand, dropping it on the kitchen counter as she left. "Anne, allow her," she called out to Mammy, her voice mocking but sweet. "Let's see how she'll handle herself when she gets married."

I shot her a glare, but she just giggled, unaffected. I couldn't decide whether to be annoyed or impressed by her ability to be so unbothered.

Mammy sighed deeply, turning back to me. "Leyla'm, I'm just saying... When I was your age, I was already married and had Muhammed when I was 20. You're not too young for marriage, you know. What's so wrong with getting married early?"

I stared at her, shocked. "Mammy, I'm only 19! Are you trying to get rid of me already?" I tried to joke, but the words tasted bitter in my mouth. I wasn't ready for this. Not yet.

Mammy wasn't laughing, though. "What's wrong with it?" she repeated, her gaze unwavering. "You have no idea how much easier it was for me when I married early. You'll understand when you're older."