After changing, I put on the clothes Süreyya Hanım had brought me. Even in that moment, I could feel how strange they looked on me, but I didn't have the strength to dwell on it. Taking a deep breath, I stepped out of the room.
As I walked down the stairs, my eyes suddenly caught the telephone in the hallway. In that instant, my heart began to pound with a fragile sense of hope. I hurried toward it, my hands trembling as I picked it up. I quickly dialed the number of our house, clinging to the thought that maybe Berra would answer. I wanted to talk to my mother, to tell them what had happened—at least to understand what was waiting for me.
When I heard a voice on the other end, my eyes filled with tears. Had I really missed them this much?
"Hello?" Berra's voice.
I couldn't hold back anymore. Tears spilled down my cheeks as I struggled to steady my voice.
"Berra…" I whispered.
"Abla? Are you okay?" she asked, her voice already shaking. I could hear the fear in it. "I was so scared something happened to you…"
She was crying too.
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to sound calm.
"I'm fine. Don't worry about me. I'm really fine."
It was a lie. A heavy, suffocating lie.
"Are they treating you badly?" she asked.
I hesitated for a second.
"No… of course not," I said. "No one is hurting me. I'm just helping take care of Fırat Agha's child… and… there will be a marriage ceremony today."
The words felt foreign in my mouth.
"But listen to me," I added softly, my voice trembling despite my effort to stay strong. "You have to study. Build your own life. Stand on your own feet, okay? Don't rush into love, don't rush into marriage. Promise me. Otherwise… everything I'm doing will mean nothing."
Her sobs broke me.
"Okay, abla… I promise," she said through tears. "I'll study. I'll make you proud. I'll never forget what you did for me. I love you so much."
"I love you too," I whispered, wiping my tears. But I knew I had to hang up.
"They're waiting for me. I have to go."
"Please—" she started, but I gently cut her off.
"I'm sorry… I have to."
And I ended the call.
---
After wiping my tears, I steadied myself and slowly made my way downstairs. When I reached the first floor, I saw that the women were already gathered in the living room. Fırat's mother, Mevan Hanım, was there, along with many others.
For a moment, I felt exposed—not physically, but emotionally. As if everything inside me had been laid bare. A hollow kind of nakedness wrapped around me.
"Since the bride has arrived, let's go to the bath," Mevan Hanım said, standing up.
I followed them.
I had expected us to leave the house, but instead we went down one floor. When the door opened, the warm, humid air of the bath surrounded me instantly.
The women were already seated on the heated marble floor, the scent of traditional dishes filling the air. I walked carefully among them, growing more uneasy with each step. In that warm Mardin evening, these traditions felt unfamiliar, almost overwhelming.
I hadn't eaten anything all day—not even a glass of water. The food laid out—stuffed vegetables, rice, kebabs, olive oil dishes—looked inviting, but I couldn't bring myself to relax.
Laughter, chatter, movement… everyone seemed so comfortable. I tried to blend in, but something inside me resisted.
Then a dancer appeared in the middle of the bath. Her movements were graceful, almost hypnotic. One by one, the women stood up, laughing, clapping, joining the rhythm.
They tried to pull me in too.
But their joy only made the weight in my chest heavier.
I wasn't just a bride—I felt like I was losing myself in something that didn't belong to me.
---
If it were only about me, maybe I would have refused.
But it wasn't.
Kemal… and Berra.
They were the reason I was here.
Still, my eyes searched the crowd for my mother, for my sister—knowing they weren't there.
I was a stranger here.
To this place… to these people… to this life.
---
At some point, I noticed one of the attendants approaching me with a traditional scrubbing cloth. My heart tightened.
I wasn't ready.
But I had no choice.
Wrapping the towel Süreyya Hanım had given me around my body, I changed beneath it and lay down on the warm marble.
As the sounds around me faded into the background, I closed my eyes.
And a single thought echoed in my mind—
They were preparing me… for a life I had never chosen.
---
The heat of the bath pressed down on me. As the attendant's hands moved over my skin, I couldn't tell whether she was trying to cleanse my body or erase something deeper.
Around me, the women laughed, danced, lived in the moment.
But I felt stuck.
Trapped somewhere between who I was… and what I was being forced to become.
In Mardin, dreams like mine felt distant—almost unreachable.
A life of freedom. Education. Independence.
All of it slipping further away.
And yet, somewhere deep inside me, a quiet voice refused to give up.
"This isn't the end," it whispered.
But for now… I had to endure.
---
When the bath was over, I changed into clean clothes. As I went upstairs, Mevan Hanım stopped me, holding a white bundle in her arms.
"Take this," she said, placing it into my hands.
"A bridal bundle."
"Go to Fırat's room."
I hesitated.
Was that where I had stayed before?
I didn't know.
Süreyya quickly came to my side and guided me upstairs to the third floor.
Everything there was more organized, more controlled.
It felt… like him.
"This is his room," she said, opening the door.
I stepped inside.
And in that moment, I knew—
Nothing would ever be the same again.
---
The room was large, elegant, carefully arranged in dark and deep red tones. A wide bed stood at the center, facing a massive window that stretched almost from floor to ceiling.
Everything was in perfect order.
Too perfect.
My gaze lingered on the bed… and my chest tightened.
Swallowing hard, I tried to steady myself.
"Be strong," I whispered under my breath.
For Berra.
For myself.
Slowly, I opened the bundle.
Inside were clothes… a headscarf… and a delicate red veil.
I dressed in silence.
The gown was long, modest, flowing. When I covered my head and placed the veil over it, I turned toward the mirror.
For a moment, I didn't recognize the girl staring back at me.
This wasn't a bride.
This felt like… a farewell.
As if something inside me had already been buried.