The plane shuddered lightly as it touched the runway.Isabella gripped the edge of her seat so tightly that her nails turned white; but the shake brought her relief more than fear.She had left Sicily behind and was taking her first steps in Istanbul.
The cabin announcement came:"Turkish Airlines TK1376, Palermo to Istanbul, preparing for landing. Please fasten your seatbelts."
Looking out the window, the city's silhouette shimmered under the sun in soft, gray tones.Buildings, bridges, and the harbor seemed like a small chaos from afar—but Isabella found a strange charm in the disorder.
Collecting her luggage, a cold breeze hit her face.The airport was modern and orderly, offering her the first hints of Istanbul's bustle.
She raised her hand to stop a taxi."Pera Palace, please," she said as she closed the door.
The driver glanced at her through the rearview mirror, smiling faintly."First time in Istanbul?"
Isabella nodded, smiling lightly:"Yes, first time."
The taxi slowly made its way through Taksim's crowded streets toward Meşrutiyet Avenue.Isabella watched the city pass by—old buildings, cobblestone streets, cafés, and boutique shops…There was a delicate balance between chaos and calm.
When they arrived at Pera Palace, the driver handed her the payment device.Isabella raised an eyebrow at the fare:"That seems a bit much," she said softly.
The driver shrugged and smiled faintly:"First class… Istanbul prices, miss."
She handed over her card and took a deep breath as she stepped out.The white stone facade, golden balconies, the grand doorway, and the old European light spilling inside…Pera Palace offered a taste of Istanbul's history and luxury.
After a short tour of the lobby, she headed to the open-air bar right next door to escape the chill and the crowd.Stone floors, soft yellow lighting, and faint jazz playing in the background.The cool air was warmed by the glow of candles, creating a cozy aura.
As Isabella stepped inside, her slightly wavy hair shimmered in coppery sunlight, cascading over her shoulders.Her olive-toned skin and faint freckles glowed softly in the light.Her large, inquisitive brown eyes scanned the room.The golden bracelet on her wrist was a silent emblem of her Sicilian heritage.
As she ordered her coffee, her gaze landed on a man at the corner of the bar.He sipped his drink while studying her carefully.Calm but striking, with eyes that hinted at depth and curiosity.
Her heart quickened, a mix of anticipation and a shiver of intrigue.Yet she felt drawn toward him.
The man rose, draped his jacket over his arm, and walked slowly toward her."Are you a tourist?" he asked, his voice deep and measured.It was both a test and an invitation.
Isabella held her breath and nodded slightly."A little… yes."
He leaned slightly, extending his hand:"I'm Aras."
She hesitated, then shook his hand:"Isabella."
Aras's gaze never wavered.The delicate golden bracelet on her wrist caught his attention; a quiet emblem of one of Sicily's oldest families.
A single thought echoed in her mind:"This girl didn't come to Istanbul just for vacation."