MINE

chapter 6

Gelin (bride)
Kız (girl)
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)
Teyze( Aunt)
Teşekkürler (thank you)
Güzel (beautiful)

🌻🌻🌻

I had just sunk into the deepest part of my sleep when I was jolted awake by the sound of my name being called.

"Leyla!" Mammy's voice echoed from downstairs, carrying with it that familiar blend of affection and authority.

I groaned, wishing I could ignore her summons and slip back into the comfort of my bed. But Mammy, with her sharp sense of responsibility, would never let that happen. With a sigh, I reluctantly pulled the soft fabric of my long hijab over my head and forced myself to leave the warmth of my bed.

"Uyanmayacak mısın?" (Aren't you going to wake up?) she called, a familiar tone of impatience creeping into her words. As is often the case in our house, Mammy had no tolerance for laziness. Being Turkish, Mammy frequently spoke to us in her native language, a language she held dear and wanted us to learn so we could appreciate her culture more fully. She insisted we speak to her in Turkish at all times, no matter how much we resisted.

What does she want this early in the morning? I thought, already feeling irritated at the disruption of my peaceful slumber. Mammy and her never-ending wahala.

I made my way to her room, still half-dazed from sleep.

"Günaydın Annecim." (Good morning, Mom) I greeted her, trying to mask my frustration with a smile.

"How are you?" she asked, her voice soft but searching, as if she could see the exhaustion in my eyes. Mammy always had a way of reading me, even when I didn't want to be read.

"I'm fine, but you, my dear Mammy, just interrupted my beauty sleep." I said, half-joking, half-complaining. As expected, Mammy wasn't fazed. She simply looked at me, her face softening in that typical way of hers, and went on with her morning routine as if I hadn't spoken.

Today marked exactly two weeks since Muhammad's family had come to our house for the gaisuwa—the traditional visit to ask for my hand in marriage. Since then, everything in my life seemed to shift in subtle but undeniable ways. The thought of marrying Muhammad was still a blur to me, one I had not fully come to terms with. But today, it seemed Mammy had already made up her mind about the future. There was no turning back now.

"You're escorting me somewhere today," Mammy announced, as if she were giving me an order, and I was too tired to protest.

"Neresi?" (Where to?) I asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

"To the tailor and to my friend's house. And wear something nice, please." she added, her voice firm but gentle.

"Tamam." (Alright) I mumbled, unable to muster more energy than that as I trudged back to my room.

I closed the door behind me, finally allowing myself a moment of quiet. The weight of the morning's events started to press in on me, and I briefly considered how I felt about the marriage. Would I be ready? Was I truly okay with all of this? I pushed the thoughts aside and focused instead on getting dressed for the day ahead.

I removed my hijab and straightened up my bed before stepping into the bathroom to take a long, much-needed shower. The warm water hit my skin, waking me up fully as I lathered up with my favorite Victoria's Secret Lemon shower gel. The scent of the lemon soap was invigorating, a pleasant and calming contrast to the chaotic thoughts running through my mind. I closed my eyes for a moment, lost in the smell, before stepping out and wrapping myself in a towel.