Next day
At Sarah's apartment
"Sarah! I'm leaving for the store," Aniya called from the doorway.
"Okay, bring my cookies!" Sarah yelled back.
Aniya left, and later Sarah stepped out of her room—hair in a messy bun, hoodie and trousers. She watered the flower pots and paused at the tulips.
"Mehmet…" she whispered.
A knock came at the door.
"Aniya, you always forget something at home," she muttered, opening it.
But it wasn't Aniya.
It was Mehmet, standing in a casual black outfit, one hand in his pocket, the other carrying a bouquet of purple tulips.
"Mehmet…" Sarah's voice faltered.
"You here?" she was surprised. It had been only a day since they returned from Cappadocia.
She directed him inside.
"Where's Aniya?" he asked as he entered.
"At the store," Sarah replied, running her hands through her hair.
"You know when guests come, you should offer something," Mehmet smirked.
"Um… coffee?" she asked nervously.
"No, I came to invite you." He smiled.
"Invite me? Where?"
"You can sit," Sarah added, and he settled on the couch.
"The Bosphorus," he replied, placing the bouquet on the table, his eyes catching on the photo frame.
"For what?" Sarah frowned.
"For an art business meeting," he said, glancing at her.
"At the Bosphorus?"
"Yes."
"You're hiding something."
"Yes. But you'll find out."
"Who—" Sarah began, but Mehmet cut her off.
"You and me," he said calmly. His composure was unnerving. Sarah inhaled sharply.
"Mehmet, I won't," she whispered, looking at her hands.
"Why?" he straightened.
"Because I… I can't."
"Then I should tell you things here," he leaned in.
"What?" she asked nervously.
His voice lowered, intimate.
"You think you can keep saying no to me forever?"
Her chest tightened.
"Mehmet…"
He lifted his hand slightly, silencing her but not touching.
"Don't worry. I don't force," his voice was soft, steady. "But when I want something… I don't let it slip away so easily."
The silence in the room deepened. His nearness was a storm barely restrained. Then, he leaned back, giving her space, though his eyes never wavered.
"I'll give you space, Sarah. As much as you need. But know this—your refusals won't change what I want."
"And what do you want?" she whispered nervously.
"I'll tell you at the Bosphorus. Don't worry—you can throw me in the water if you feel anything wrong." Mehmet smirked.
Sarah's breath was uneven. The tulips on the table glowed in the dim light, mocking the tension between them. She couldn't answer.
Just then, Aniya stepped in.
"Ah, Mehmet Bey, nice to see you," she smiled.
Mehmet nodded, then stood.
"I have to go now. See you, Miss Sarah."
He left, and Sarah stayed frozen on the couch, staring at the tulips.
"Why did he come?" Aniya asked, sipping water.
"He wants me to go to the Bosphorus with him tonight at 8," Sarah managed.
"Oh my God! Is he going to—" Aniya squealed.
"Aniya…" Sarah interrupted. "Baba called me. Someone came asking for my hand. They found him nice. And they said if I like someone, I can tell them."
"Sarah! Then tell them!" Aniya snapped.
"I… I like him. But the differences…" Sarah touched the bouquet.
"Oh shut up, Sarah. Forget that. Have you ever felt he thinks you're from a different
culture? Or country?" Aniya cut her off.
"Aniya…" Sarah tried to protest.
"Come with me. You should look lethal."
Evening, around 7
Sarah wore a light pastel wrap midi dress, its folds catching the light with every step. The soft collar framed her neckline with quiet grace, while the flowing fabric moved like a whisper around her. With a chic handbag and delicate jewelry, she looked timeless, breathtaking.
"If I were a man, I'd marry you. You look lethal. Killer. Lover…" Aniya commented dramatically, making Sarah laugh.
"Shut up, I'm nervous. I know what he's going to ask," Sarah whispered.
"And I know the answer," Aniya teased.
"Come with me, I'll throw you in the water," Sarah retorted, blushing.