The Bosphorus breathed in silver and gold as Sarah reached the dock. Lanterns swayed in the cool night air, their reflections trembling on the water. Mehmet's boat waited, lit with soft amber lights strung along the deck, simple yet captivating.
He stood at the edge, dressed in black again, tall and composed. The bouquet of tulips she had left on her table felt as if they had followed her here. His eyes found her immediately, scanning her from head to toe, though his face revealed nothing except the faintest curve of approval.
She hesitated. "You didn't tell me it was going to be this formal."
"If the Bosphorus had eyes, Sarah, it would envy you tonight," Mehmet replied calmly, extending a hand to help her onto the boat.
Her breath caught, and she accepted his hand, stepping carefully onto the deck. His grip was steady, warm, grounding.
A small table was set at the center, dressed with white linen, two flickering candles, and silver cutlery. Turkish music drifted faintly from somewhere below, mingling with the soft sound of the waves brushing against the hull.
"This… this is not an art meeting," she whispered, suspicion and awe warring inside her.
"No," Mehmet said simply, pulling out a chair for her. "It's just us." Her hair flew in the breeze, and Mehmet inhaled it slightly without even realizing.
The boat glided forward, Istanbul's skyline glittering on both sides, minarets and palaces glowing in the dusk. Sarah sat stiffly at first, eyes darting everywhere but him. Mehmet poured water into her glass, his silence pressing against her nerves.
Finally, she broke it. "You do things… you always do things like this to impress girls?"
He raised a brow, smirking slightly. "Only one girl."
Her cheeks burned, but she looked away, trying to steady herself. The food arrived—meze, fresh fish, warm bread—but Sarah could hardly taste anything. Her mind was restless, caught between his nearness and her parents' voices echoing from Pakistan.
"You didn't like the food?" Mehmet asked, cleaning his hands with a napkin.
"No, it's good," she managed to say.
They sat there for a few moments, looking at the waves. Then Mehmet stood and extended his hand, which Sarah took. They moved to the railing.
"Istanbul is breathtaking," Sarah whispered.
"So are you," he said in a very low voice that Sarah didn't hear.
"Don't you get tired of being serious the whole day?" Sarah asked him without looking at him.
"I don't waste my emotions on everyone," he shrugged.
"But a gentle smile on your face won't affect your aura," Sarah teased him. And he smiled, a genuine smile lingering on his face.
"Look, here you go. It doesn't affect you," she laughed softly.
"It's just for you. As I said, I don't waste my emotions on everyone," he smirked, and Sarah blushed a little but hid it.
"Is this your boat?" Sarah asked, facing him.
He nodded.
"So you're this rich," Sarah tried to sound playful to ease the tension.
Mehmet smiled.
"You can say," he shrugged. "I can buy everything but not the one thing I wanted for years."
"Why?" she asked, and their eyes met.
"Because I couldn't buy it. I had to earn it," he replied, still looking at her.
"What did you want?" Sarah asked curiously.
He leaned in a little, not to touch her but to feel her presence.
"Someone whose eyes can speak to me. Someone whose smile can undo me. Someone whose words are more important than half of this world. Someone whose one glance is enough to make a man like me smile. Someone whose silence speaks more than any literary work. Someone who made my house a home. Who made me a different person. The one who's standing with me here. You, Miss Sarah…"
He said it gently, but his eyes held a storm in them.
"Mehmet…" she tried to breathe.
"I won't force you, Sarah. You have the choice. You always had," he cut in gently and held her hand in his.
Sarah heard her mother's words again: If you like someone, you can tell us.
"My parents…"
"You have to ask my parents," Sarah finally let the words out.
Mehmet smiled and brushed a hair strand from her face.
"I already did, Sarah," he dropped the bomb. "Before Cappadocia. I went to your parents with Anne in Pakistan."
Sarah's eyes widened. "You… what?"
"They said they'd ask you first," Mehmet brushed his hand on her cheek and then held her hands.
"You… what… you went to Pakistan? With Anne?" Sarah was shocked. Mehmet nodded gently.
"So Baba was talking about you? And Mama?" Sarah was connecting the dots. Mehmet smiled softly.
"What was their reaction? Did Mama know you're Mehmet from my office? I. Murat? Did Daud ask you about me—like how you know me?" Sarah lowered her face and mumbled.
"Too many questions," Mehmet smirked.
He let go of her hands and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Sarah looked up at him.
"I told them I'm an author from Turkey. That I know Sarah through literary work. I told them about my businesses. They were impressed by my fluent Urdu—thanks to my Baba who taught me." He smiled meaningfully.
"Daud asked me if you also wanted this, and I told him I never asked you. Your Anne recognized me quickly when I said we knew each other from literature. Your mother smiled at me constantly, Daud asked me many questions because he was worried about your future, and your Baba was invested in how I could be the best match for you. Anne assured him.
Your Baba called me later, saying they don't have any issue with me, but they'll ask you first. Your Anne is sweet," Mehmet finished softly.
"Mama didn't tell me you're the one. I was worried for three days," Sarah protested. "You could've told me in Cappadocia. And why didn't you ask me before going?"
"You wouldn't allow me to be this quick, and I couldn't wait anymore," he replied.
"Any other questions, Miss Sarah?" he asked, lowering his head to look straight into her eyes. Sarah leaned back.
"Who helped you?"
"I didn't need any help but for your surprise—Aniya and Tayyep," he said calmly, folding his arms.
"You already asked my parents… so what do you want from me now?" she asked in a low voice.
"I don't want you to marry me just because your parents decided.
I want you to live with me by your own will. If you don't want it, just tell me… I'll talk to your parents and apologize."
" I know you need space, freedom, and I will give it to you. I'll protect you. I want to be your home. I respect you, your parents, your culture, your country, your boundaries. I'll always respect them."
"I want to live with you, to be the one you trust, to love you, Sarah.
Still, it's your choice, Miss Sarah," he bowed his head.
Her breathe tightened and her hands trembled.
"Mehmet… I… I don't know what to say," Sarah lowered her head.
Mehmet laughed softly. "Don't worry. I'm not rushing you. Take your time," he said and extended his hand. Sarah hesitated.
"Mehmet… I have to call Mama," she said, and Mehmet nodded.
She went to a corner and called her mother.
"Mama… the man you mentioned the other day… who came for my hand…" she spoke in breaks.
Her mother interrupted. "It was Mehmet Ibrahim, Sarah."
Sarah felt the smile in her mother's voice. "And you didn't tell me this!" she said, half-angry, half in disbelief.
"I wanted you to know on your own," her mother replied warmly.
"Baba? Daud?"
"We all don't have any issue. He's a nice man. His business, his background, his Anne—Daud checked more and said he's good for you," her mother assured.
"So now?" Sarah asked softly.
"Now it's your choice, bacha," her mother smiled.
"I… I know him. And his mother too. He's nice and I… I want to marry him, Mama. I want to live with Mehmet," Sarah confessed.
"He makes me feel safe, valued. He respects me and the things that belong to me."
"I knew it. I knew you liked him. Stay blessed. I'll tell your Baba," her mother said.
Sarah hung up and turned back to him. He was smiling.
"As I'm openhearted, okay…
I'll marry you, Mr. Mehmet Ibrahim," Sarah smiled nervously.
Mehmet's face lit up in a big smile. She saw his dimple for only the second time in her life.
"I'm blessed," he bowed his head.
"After graduation, I'll go back to Pakistan, and then—" Sarah began.
"Then you'll be mine forever," he completed.
"Not this early," Sarah smirked.
"Huh? Then?" Mehmet leaned in.
She shrugged. He held her hands. "I'll ask your Baba," he smirked.
" I have some conditions." Sarah said, looking at the sky.
"I'll visit my parents every two months," she proposed.
"As you say, Sarah," he brushed a strand from her cheek.
"I want a bookshop with a flower shop in Istanbul. And I'll buy it on my own," another condition.
"As you wish, I'll work there as your helper," he smiled.
"You'll never say Turkish kahwa is better than Pakistani chai," she challenged.
"If you order, I won't drink kahwa again," he agreed.
"On my birthday, I want tulips. Always tulips."
"As you say," he smiled.
"When we fight, you'll say sorry first, even if it's my fault."
"Always," he shrugged.
"On rainy days, we'll drink coffee together. No phones."
He nodded, smiling.
"Every Friday night, no matter how busy, you'll give me your time."
"Not every Friday. My whole time belongs to you, Sarah," he replied gently.
"No secrets. Even if it's hard, we tell each other everything."
"I promise. Unless it's a matter of your safety," he smiled.
"If you're angry, you'll tell me in words, not silence."
"I won't ever be angry with you. But still, for your assurance, I agree," he said softly.
"You won't compare me to anyone. Not even in your heart."
"No one is like you or better than you, so I won't. I promise," he assured.
"If one day I break, you'll hold me instead of fixing me with words."
"I won't let you break," he replied.
"Sometimes I'll need space. Don't ask why, just let me have it. If I want to sit by the sea alone, you'll let me."
"I promise," he bowed.
"I won't stop working. Even if my work is small compared to yours, it's mine."
"Okay. But hire me," he smirked.
"On Eids, we'll spend one of the days with my family."
"With our family," he corrected with a smile.
"No matter what… Mehmet… you won't do a second marriage," Sarah hesitated.
"I'll never think about it, Sarah. I just want you. You're enough for me—in this world and in heaven too," he replied seriously.
"Okay," Sarah finally said.
"It's the bare minimum. Anything else?" he asked.
Sarah shook her head.
"I won't let you settle for bare minimum. I promise I'll never let you regret choosing me," he said, holding her hand.
"And for Aniya, I'll sign a stamp paper agreeing to all your conditions," he added.
Sarah laughed softly.
Sarah kept looking at waves, the Bosphorus lights glimmering on her face. She was silent for a while, lost in her own thoughts. Then she suddenly turned to him.
"One more thing…" she said softly.
Mehmet glanced at her with a calm smile. "Hm?"
"Do you think I should cut my hair short?" she blurted out, almost like a child testing something forbidden.
For a moment he didn't answer, just let his eyes rest on her long strands falling over her shoulders. Then he shook his head slightly, his voice quiet but steady.
"No. Don't."
Sarah blinked. "Why not? Maybe it will suit me…"
"It already suits you," he said, eyes back on the waves, his tone leaving no space for doubt. "Short or long, you'll still look like Sarah. But this…" his gaze flicked back to her hair, "…this is how I first saw you. And I don't want that image to change."
Her lips curved into a shy smile, her heart skipping in that soft, unexpected way.
"So…" she tilted her head, pretending to tease, "you're saying you'd never let me change my hairstyle? Very strict of you, Mehmet."
He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth tugging into a smile. "Not strict. Just honest."
"Hmm, possessive honesty then," she teased again, trying to hide how much his words had warmed her.
Mehmet chuckled under his breath, eyes still on her. "If it means keeping you exactly the way you are… maybe yes."
Her laughter rang softly in his ear, but deep down she felt her cheeks flush.
"Your conditions?" she asked him.
"Be mine and let me be yours," he said, inhaling deeply with a smile.
Sarah blushed and lowered her head.
"If you do this, I'll fall for you again and harder this time," he whispered.
"Will you come to my graduation?" she asked.
"Only if you allow me to," he replied, still looking at her.
Sarah nodded. "You can come."
"Teşekkür, Miss Sarah," he smiled.
"Bosphorus is worth witnessing at night," Sarah shifted her gaze to the waves.
"Not more than you," Mehmet didn't shift his gaze.
"Mehmet…" Sarah sounded serious and playful.
"What? I promise you are. Your eyes… huh, I'll tell you some other day," he stopped himself.
"Which day?" Sarah asked, still looking at the waves.
"After our nikah," he whispered. Sarah's stomach fluttered.
"Shouldn't we go back now?" Sarah asked.
"Can we stay more?" he asked softly.
"I'm… I want to sleep," she answered.
Mehmet laughed softly. "You didn't eat anything. Let's eat something first, then we'll leave. What do you want?"
"I don't know," she shrugged.
"Kebab?" he asked, and Sarah nodded.
"I didn't give you a ring now because I know what you'd say," Mehmet said.
Sarah smiled.
They stood at the Bosphorus railing for a while, then they were in his car.
"Mehmet," she called.
"Mm?"
"You still like to drive silently?" she teased.
"Not with you. Never with you. Your voice is the only sound I crave," he replied calmly.
They ate kebab in the car and talked about Mehmet's new book and Sarah's family.
When they reached her apartment, Sarah looked at him.
"Goodnight, Mehmet," Sarah smiled.
"Goodnight, Sarah. Thanks for trusting me with your life. I'll never break your trust," he held her hand and brushed his thumb over it gently.
"You're the air I breathe, Sarah. Don't leave me ever," he said, his tone like a dangerous spell.
Sarah's hands trembled, and she managed a smile.
"I love you, Sarah," he said softly.
"Teşekkür, Mr. Mehmet Ibrahim," she teased him and got out of the car.
"Always at your service, Miss," he bowed his head, and they both laughed. His eyes followed her until she disappeared into the building.
_______________________________________
Aniya opened the door and hugged her.
"Show me the ring!" she screamed in joy.
"On our nikah, obviously," Sarah replied and lay on her bed, burying her face in the mattress.
"You're blushing," Aniya teased.
"And You!! give me something to throw at you. You helped him. You knew he went to my parents and you didn't tell me…" Sarah grabbed a cushion, eyeing her mischievously.
"Because I love you. I knew if he asked you, you'd drag it," Aniya shrugged and hugged her again.
"I'm your first love. Don't forget it," Aniya reminded.
"Okay, tell me your whole time with him. Did he…??"
"Shut up, you dumb brain," Sarah threw the cushion and laughed.
"He was looking so handsome, Aniya. When he asked me, I just got lost in his eyes. When he smiled… his dimple, oh my God, Aniya! He's Mehmet Ibrahim—I'm gonna marry him!" Sarah held Aniya's hands and screamed in joy.
They both did a happy dance, and the whole night they discussed countless things.
Istanbul was witnessing a true love coming true.