In the brides room. Esma, her maid of honor helped get an overly anxious Meryem. She stared at her self, at her very own married self. Her eyes flickered down to the ring on finger. The symbol of their reunion.
Esma watched her now sister in law. "Ah Meryem"... she looks up. "remember it is your wedding night"... The raven haired girl's face turned a shade of red. Esma giggles at her reaction, "Good Gosh... do not just stare at each other till the morning" she says.
Gazing at her newly wed sister in law in the mirror, "Although... I do not think he will stop at just staring at you"...
Esmaaa... her voice drags as she let out a soft chuckle. "I am sorry that truth hurts"... Meryem glances at her self. She looked impeccable. From the long curls of her hair that cascaded her nimble face, her cherry tinted lips and her alluring, siren eyes. She looked like a temptress.
Her hands then tugged at the scarlet robe she wore. "What about you Esma...? how would you act in my place?" Meryem asks, knowing her exactly what she will say.
Well... Esma leans in, "its best to let everything happen slowly" she smiles, You know"... Meryem's eyes widened, she looks to the ground. Fidgeting with her
Esma... a beat then--"Will it...hurt?" as soon as the words left her lips, she looks away as if she committed a sin. Esma though leaned in, she clasped her hands,
"Meryem... truth be told, yes" She continued, "I heard that a woman's first time is...painful yet some do exaggerate" To that, her sister in law nods slowly*
She then rose up, "Its time"...
----
The bride & her maid of honor made their way down the Yildiz's manor. The hall way stretched long--long enough for her mind to swirl. To keep clasping both her hands. They soon reached his quarter. Esma ushered her in with a smile and closed the door.
As soon as she entered. Burak's eyes flickered to hers. He stood there wearing a loose office shirt that reached to his kneecap. Running a hair through his tousled hair.
"Meryem"... a breath. Her honey orbs flickering at his. "B-Burak"... She clasped her hands tighter as he inched in closer. He then finally stood in front of her. Hands reaching for her face in a trembling manner.
It was obvious that he himself was anxious as her. He then touched her velvety face--the pad of his thumb grazing her jaw as if getting used to it. To her. "Meryem"... his deep voice send a sort of shiver down her spine as he tilted his head.
"I swear to you... He grazes her plump lips, which then parted without command. "I will cherish every inch of you"... Meryem smiles, looking to the ground then at him, "I have no doubt"... they both watched each other. He then ushers for her to come in closer. Meryem did. His hands found the back of her head, he then gently pressed her against his chest.
She--heard the low yet quickening rate of his pulse. Her palms skimmed over the crisp cotton. Acting as a quiet barrier to the journey of their intimacy.
Burak...?
Evet... ya Tatlim? (Yes, sweetie?) Meryem chuckles at the name he made for her. He plants his jaw on top of her silky locks, fingers making slow circles on her back. 'If I ask you this... her voice drags. "You know, you can ask me anything" Meryem's lips curled, then, "I know you said we do not have to rush things"...
His brows shot up. "Yeah...?" "Well... His breathing labored, eyes darkening with unspoken desires as they then parted. She gazed at him, delicate fingers entangling her own strands.
"when we have children... I want them to have a marriage like us" she continued. "You know... "I want them to actually love the person they are to marry" Burak nods, his lips carving into a smirk, "Of course... whatever (My love) sevgilim wants"
Meryem smiles yet--"Promise?"... His eyes fell to her palm. He then clasps it, bringing it up to his lips, "I promise"... he then gives her knuckles a tender smooch. "This is Burak Dogan's promise to you"...
She smiles, her face fading away.
Burak now clutches a hand full of soil in his hands.
I promised...
To you...
He inches in closer with heavy breaths. Hands grazing the marking. The cold stone kissing his skin like a reminder.
Hah... a shuddering sigh left his lips. He gazed on to the name that was engraved in it. After what felt like an eternity--he rose up to his feet with a grunt.
Burak began to walk--his assistant followed him behind. He then without turning, murmured in a hoarse voice, "Husein"... He inched in closer, "Yes...? Mr. Yildiz?" glancing at him, "Let's return to home"... Husein nods to that. He clasped his hands, backing away as Burak made it to the car.
Later in the study--Husein stood by, few feet away from the desk. Burak sat on the chair, his fingers clutching on a pen as he wrote away. The blue of his eyes skimming through the fine print as he sighs and takes his glasses off.
He glances up at Husein, "My eyes have degraded over time...what a shame"... Husein tilts his head, "Well Mr. Yildiz... it is still better than mine" he says adjusting the glass that he wore. A rare smile formed on Burak's lips, he gazed at the amber-haired boy. "You exaggerate...Husein" he says. His eyes then flickered to the lamp on his right, "Old age had hit me... he looks at it with a sort of longing* "And ... I too have accepted it, long ago"
Husein says nothing, he glances at him then down. "May God give you a long life" Burak shakes his head, "Husein... what I yearn for isn't life, absolutely not"... He shot him a look. "All I want is to meet my love in the after life... by God's will" his jaw softens. "Alas, that is all I pray for, every single day and night" Husein's eyes fell, he then drags it up with a quick question, "But...what about your daughter? your son?"
"And... what about them? Husein? his eyes locking with his. "By God's permission, my Ayse have married into a good family and... my son, he is in the army, he has more trouble than caring for a frail man"
Husein lowers his head. "My time in here is soon going to finish, I have done my share" Burak then ends. The young assistant's mind swirl, he was rather shocked by his boss's openness. It was just like what he said.
He had nothing to worry about anymore.
Nothing other than preparing for the grave... as that is where even the most mightiest of rulers dwell. Be it a saint or a wicked, young or old, having abundance in wealth or...poverty stricken. However formidable or feeble.
"Every soul gets its taste of death"
-Every... `