After two months
The Fahim house lawn was transformed into a garden of light. Golden fairy lights wrapped around the trees, tulips and roses lined every path.
A floral curtain, woven with jasmine and sky tulips, divided the stage into two halves—one side for the groom, one for the bride—until the Nikah was complete.
Sarah sat quietly, her sky colored dress shimmering under the evening lights, dupatta cascading like liquid rubies. Aniya fussed with her veil while Abdullah teased, trying to lighten the air. Her hands trembled, but her smile was soft, hidden. Eric, with his camera and a gentle—not jealous—smile, ran from one corner to another making sure the arrangements were perfect.
Her parents sat quietly, their eyes shining with gratitude. For them, it wasn't just their daughter's Nikah, but the moment they entrusted her to a man who had already proved with every glance, every word, that he would honor her for a lifetime.
On the other side of the curtain, Mehmet sat tall in his sky colored sherwani, which was light in shade than Sarah's dress. His calm was unshaken, but his gaze was restless, drawn again and again toward the curtain that hid her from him. Daud kept glancing at him, reading every expression for what it meant for his sister's future.
His anne sat beside him, tears shining in her eyes as she whispered du'as under her breath. Every so often, she placed her hand over Mehmet's, her smile proud yet emotional.
"Mehmet," she whispered in Turkish, "today you complete me too."
The imam's voice filled the lawn, steady and sacred.
"Mehmet Ibrahim, son of Ibrahim Ahmet, do you accept Sarah Fahim, daughter of Fahim Raza, as your wife?"
Mehmet's voice, deep and unwavering, carried across the curtain.
"Qabool hai." (Accepted)
The second time, firmer, almost reverent.
"Qabool hai." (Accepted)
The third, his hand tightening slightly, his heart finally at rest.
"Qabool hai." (Accepted)
Anne closed her eyes, tears sliding freely now, lips moving in prayer.
The imam turned.
"Sarah Fahim, daughter of Fahim Raza, do you accept Mehmet Ibrahim as your husband?"
Sarah's lips trembled. She felt her mother's hand on her shoulder, grounding her. She whispered, then spoke louder, her voice finding its strength.
"Qabool hai."
"Qabool hai."
"Qabool hai."
The words sealed the moment. And for the first time: no walls, no veils, only them.
When the curtain was drawn and the applause swelled, Mehmet didn't notice the crowd—only her. Yet, just at the edge of the stage, two pairs of eyes watched with unshaken loyalty.
Kerman, his silver hair glinting under the fairy lights, stood tall with his cane, lips curved in a rare smile. For decades he had seen empires rise and fall, but tonight his eyes softened like a father's. He leaned toward Tayyep and murmured, "Ibrahim's son has found his swan at last. And swans… they never fly alone. They stay."
Tayyep grinned, elbowing him lightly. "Then let's hope this swan has patience for Mehmet's moods, eh? Poor Sarah, she has no idea what she signed up for. I have seen his mood swings more than anyone could." His chuckle carried affection, not mockery, the kind of teasing only a brother could give.
Kerman's gaze never left the couple, his voice low but firm. "She knows enough. And the rest—he will learn from her."
Kerman whispered under his breath, like a vow only the night could hear:
"As long as I breathe, they will glide untouched. This empire will protect them."
Mehmet stood, crossed the small distance, and stopped before her. He bent slightly, extended his hand. She placed her henna-stained fingers into his, shy but steady—their first touch as husband and wife. Anne pressed her hands together in gratitude, her face lit with a mother's pride.
Mehmet whispered, brushing his thumb against her hand, his eyes locked only on her.
"You're mine, Sarah. Forever."
Sarah lowered her gaze, her lips curving faintly.
"You're pretty," he murmured.
Then they both exchanged rings in front of the guests. A slim platinum band with an emerald-cut diamond at its center, flanked by two tiny baguettes, glittered on Sarah's hand—evidence of their love.
Mehmet's anne hugged them and blessed them with her prayers.
"In Turkey, we also tie the rings with a red ribbon, to remind that two hearts are bound together by fate. When you come to Istanbul, we'll do that too, so both our traditions live in your hands." Anne smiled and Sarah nodded.
"Don't forget Mehmet bey, I'm your first love." Tayyep cleared his throat and shouted in joy and Mehmet ignored him with a big smile.
After the prayers and congratulations, Sarah's parents embraced her tightly, her mother's dupatta brushing against her cheek as she whispered blessings, while her father's proud silence said everything his words could not. Daud shook Mehmet's hand firmly, his protective stare softening just enough to accept him as brother now. Aniya nearly crushed Sarah in a hug, whispering a hundred words at once, while Eric captured the moment with his ever-persistent camera, smiling behind the lens.
Eric lowered his camera after capturing her smile, and for the first time in years, he didn't wish for her to turn toward him. Instead, he whispered in his heart, May she always laugh like this, even if it's never for me.
Abdullah clapped Mehmet on the back with a grin, his teasing slipping through even in the sacred air, "Now she's officially your problem, bey." Laughter broke the formality for a moment, weaving love into the night.
Later, Sarah was still in her bridal dress when she heard a gentle knock. Before she could answer, the door opened and Mehmet stepped in, smiling softly, his sherwani lending him a quiet nobility that made her heart flutter.
She straightened, startled yet unable to hide her smile. "Mehmet…"
His eyes softened at her voice. "I thought I should see my wife properly before the night ends."
Her lips curved faintly, and she gestured for him to come in. The air felt charged, heavy and sweet, as he closed the door behind him and crossed the room. For a moment neither spoke, their eyes just finding each other like they'd been waiting a lifetime for this.
"You look…" Mehmet began, his voice low, "breathtaking. Just as I imagined you."
Sarah lowered her gaze, her hands clutching the fabric of her dress.
He reached for her hand, brushing his thumb over her ring, his touch reverent. "You'll never lose me." Then he pressed her hand to his lips, not rushing, just a gentle touch. He slips his other hand into his pocket and pulls out a small velvet box.
A silver chain, delicate, with a swan pendant catching the candlelight—its wings curved protectively, a tiny sapphire glinting at its eye.
Sarah blinked, surprised. "What's this?"
"A promise," Mehmet said softly, holding it out to her. "Swans choose one mate for life. They don't leave. Just like I won't."
Her throat tightened, the weight of his words far heavier than the silver. She touched the pendant gently, her fingers trembling.
"May I?" he asked, lifting the chain slightly.
She turned slowly, brushing her hair aside, and he fastened it around her neck with steady hands. His fingers grazed the skin at the nape of her neck, warm and reverent, making her shiver.
When she turned back to him, the swan rested against her chest, glowing softly.
"It suits you," Mehmet whispered, his gaze fixed on her as though nothing else existed. "Now even if you take off your ring… you'll still carry me here."
Her breath hitched when he stepped closer, his other hand lifting to graze her cheek. The warmth of his palm made her lean into it without thinking.
"You're mine, Sarah. Forever," he whispered, his gaze unwavering.
Her lips parted, but no words came—only a small, fragile smile that betrayed how much she'd longed to hear it. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingering as though memorizing the feel of her, and when he pulled back she whispered, "You'll ruin my makeup…"
"Then let me," he teased softly, his thumb brushing her cheek..
She laughed nervously, and he caught that sound like a treasure, smiling at her glow.
"I've waited a long time for this," he admitted, his voice suddenly thick.
He bent lower and looked in her eyes with love, the very eyes she once told him she disliked.
"Your eyes… they have the power to undo me, Sarah. I lose myself in them."
When he finally turned to leave, he leaned down, whispering against her ear,
"Sleep with peace tonight. You'll wake tomorrow as mine—just the same."
She watched him go, her hand clutching her ring as though it held his heartbeat inside it.